“When will you be leaving?” she asked.
“What makes you think—” He stopped because she was shaking her head.
“Don’t pretend you don’t already have plans to go,” said Laurel. “I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long. What has it been? Almost a month now?”
It had been twenty-six days exactly, but Call did not tell her that. “I have to visit the other stations on the line, make some inquiries. My last stop will be Denver. I’ll be there for a few days, maybe a week, then I’ll be back.”
“You’re coming back?”
He frowned because the question was unexpected. “Of course. I thought you understood. I thought I made that clear from the first.”
After a moment’s reflection, she said quietly, “You did.”
“Oh, I see. You didn’t believe me.”
“I didn’tknowyou. I still don’t, not really.”
“Morrison Station is myhomestation, Laurel. And you’re the reason I decided that. I haven’t changed my mind. If anything, I’m firmer on it.” He paused a beat, then, “In fact, I might just be courting you.”
A slip of a smile lifted the corners of Laurel’s mouth. She’d heard the thread of humor in his voice. It would not do to take him more seriously than he took himself. She asked again, “So when are you leaving?”
“I’m waiting for Digger Leary to return. I figure he’ll make an exchange here, spend a night, and be riding shotgun the following day. I’m leaving when he does. I’ll take Artemis and ride alongside or follow. I’m not riding in the coach.”
He said this last with such vehemence that Laurel had to laugh. “I’m recalling that you looked rather sickly at our introduction.”
“Sickly? That was earlier. I slept the last leg to keep from being sick. I was just waking up when I met you.”
“That’s what you look like waking up?”
Call immediately saw a problem with that assessment. He was quick to defend himself. “Not always. Not usually. Not when—”
Laurel laughed. “I get the idea,” she said. “And I was teasing. I can do that, you know.”
“I’m learning. Maybe if you did it more often.”
His forearm was still resting on the top rail. She nudged his elbow with her thigh. “Maybe I will.”
Call looked down at where her leg brushed his arm and then looked up at her. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Why? Does it seem as if I might be?”
“It does.”
“I figure lots of women have flirted with you. You’re probably better than a fair judge. I must not be doing something right since you’re raising the question.”
“Oh, no. You’re holding your own. I was just trying to clarify your intent. With very little provocation I could be moved to kiss you breathless out here in front of God and everybody.”
Laurel knew God was there, but she’d forgotten about everybody else. She looked around. Dillon and Hank were walking toward the station from town, where they’d been visiting their mother, Rooster was whittling something on the back stoop, and the driver and shotgun boarding in the bunkhouse for the night were occupying the rockers on the front porch. Mrs. Lancaster was the only one she couldn’t see, but the reverse was probably not true.
Laurel drew herself up and pulled her leg away. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head? You’re facing the wrong direction. You can’t possibly see that—”
“Doesn’t matter if I can see them or not,” he said. “Better to act as if someone’s always watching.”
He was right. She had forgotten herself. “It’s good of you to protect me from myself.”
“You think that’s what I was doing?”
“Weren’t you?”
