Cora stood in front of the beveled dresser mirror in her room. Her hair was a mess. She quickly plucked out the pins and ran a brush through it. This morning, she’d been too focused on tiptoeing out of the parlor to do it up proper. Then, with the housework on top of her wrestling with the chicken and all of that preparation, she’d hardly taken a moment to check her appearance.
Steps on the front porch. Ben and Charlie would be in soon from locking up the stables and checking the gate. She slipped her hand inside her apron pocket and fingered the fine teeth on the wooden comb Ben had given her yesterday. How could it only be yesterday that he’d returned from rounding up her cattle to give to Goodnight?
The way she’d clung to him last night in the hallway… And here she was practically insisting he spend another night in the house. His embrace had very little to do with it. It was just that after the attack, she didn’t feel quite safe without his presence now that darkness was falling around them. But would he understand that, or would he read more into it?
She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror—a mirror that had traveled from Tennessee with her mother and should have been sold a year or two ago for supplies. But better to savor her mother’s memory than to put cash in her father’s hands.
Her throat tightened. No. She would not, could not define Ben by her father’s actions. Ben McKenzie had more strength of character than her father could even fathom. If only she could scrub the last few years with her father from her brain.
The front door opened.
Charlie’s voice carried down the hall. “I should start wearing moccasins. They’re quieter. I could sneak up on prey more easily. Maybe shoot me a big buck. Plus, they wouldn’t hurt my feet as much.”
Cora lowered her brush to the dresser.
Part of Ben’s reply drifted her way. “We’ll talk to your sister. You need a hide to make moccasins...”
Charlie needed to learn ranching, not raiding and fighting. Ben was clear on that, wasn’t he? Otherwise, the boy would be asking to wear a breechclout and painting his face before she knew it. Charlie was the only family she had left. She had no intention of losing him to the Comanche or anyone else.
Ben had given his word to Wolf Heart that he’d raise the boy. Exactly what did that mean for her and Ben? Would Ben someday sleep in the bed beside her as her husband? Her cheeks flushed. My goodness, she was getting ahead of herself. She’d go back to clerking or take on a position at the new schoolhouse in Weatherford before she’d allow any man to marry her out of obligation.
But what if it was out of…love?There’s no other place I’d rather be. No other girl I’d rather court. Even now, Ben’s words made her legs wobble. But did he mean them? He might have whispered the same thing once upon a time to the lady awaiting him back in Philadelphia.
Cora strode into the parlor with Ben’s comb still in her pocket and her sewing basket on her arm. Best keep her hands busy and her eyes on her thread. Time and distance to think straight, that’s what she needed.
Ben’s face lit up as he stood, his injured eye half open now in its circle of purplish-blue. “You look mighty fine.”
She flipped a few strands and the end of the black velvet ribbon over her shoulder, where her hair cascaded down her back. “It was too hot to leave my hair up.”
He cocked his eyebrows.
She stuttered to a halt. Had she really just said that? Too hot to leave it up? My goodness. The man would think she was daft. “I meant, it was too hot to go to the trouble of styling it.” The lie didn’t sound any better.
The left side of his mouth curved upward in a crooked smile. “That’s why I think we should step out on the porch a bit and enjoy the cool air.”
She tensed. “Outside?”
“It’s not dark yet. And I’ve got my Colt just in case.” He tapped his fingers to the holster that swung from his gun belt.
“I want to come too.” Charlie hopped off the stool by the hearth, knife and a slender piece of wood in hand. His dark bangs fell across his forehead.
“No, you stay put, young man.” Ben pointed at him. “Your sister and I need to have some grownup time. You can work on whittling your stick.”
Her insides jiggled. What if she wasn’t ready for grownup time, or whatever that entailed?
Charlie puffed out his chest. “It’s an arrow, not a stick.”
“Very good. I’ll inspect it when we get back.”
“You’re not going far, are you? It’s almost dark.”
“We’ll be close by.” Ben snagged his slouch hat from the parlor table. “Just around the porch.”
Charlie nudged a suspender back over his shoulder. “I’ll come find you when I finish my arrow.”
“No, I’ll look at it when I get back in. If you finish early, you can pick a book off the shelf.”
“But I need you or Cora to read it to me.”
