Call led Artemis directly to the barn, where he removed her saddle and rubbed her down. He led the mare to her stall, closed the door, and stroked her nose before he bade her good night. Some of the other mares nickered softly as he passed their stalls on his way out. All was quiet again by the time he slid the barn door closed.
Call had every intention of heading for his bunk, but lamps burning inside the farmhouse caught his eye. Was Laurel still awake, reading perhaps? He was not going to disturb her so he didn’t know why he turned toward the house, but he felt an unmistakable draw and answered it. He veered toward the front porch, which was familiar territory, and thought he might take to the swing for what remained of the night and leave his bunkmates undisturbed.
It was only as he approached from the side that he saw the swing was already occupied. Laurel’s head lolled to one side, but her back was to him and he couldn’t see if she was sleeping. It was a good guess that she was because she’d have seen or at least heard his approach when he and Artemis returned. He couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t have made herself known. The way she’d left things, he had no doubt that she still had words for him.
He stepped lightly onto the porch, set his saddlebag down, and eased into a rocker. Call set his boots flat on the floor to keep the rocker from creaking. He removed his hat and let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He could sleep here. Next to her. It would be all right if he could just sleep.
It might have been the movement of the swing that wokehim or the soft metallic shifting of the chains as Laurel rose. He watched from under heavily lidded eyes as she disappeared into the house. In the darkness she was mostly a slender wraith, compliments of her white shift and her grace. She moved so silently that it was easy to imagine that she floated above the floor rather than stepped on it.
He didn’t expect to see her again, but he was too tired to move so he stayed where he was. His concession to fatigue and her absence was to stretch his legs and let the rocker groan noisily as he shifted his weight. He was about to nod off when Laurel suddenly appeared with a blanket.
“No,” she said. “Don’t get up unless you want to. You don’t look as if you want to.”
“I don’t.”
Nodding, she unfolded the blanket and covered him with it but stopped short of tucking him in. That, she judged, was a step too close to mothering and not at all how she wanted to be thought of. “Good night, Call.”
“Mm.”
Laurel smiled and started to leave. She stopped when he caught her hand. “Yes?”
“Don’t go.”
She eased her fingers out of his and let her hand fall to her side. “You’re all but asleep.”
“Stay anyway. I’ll sleep better. You can have the blanket.” He started to raise it, but she gently pushed it back. “Keep it. I’ll get another.”
Call wasn’t sure he trusted her to return and almost said so. Some inkling of good sense kept him from saying it aloud, and he willed himself to stay awake while she was in the house. During his time away, he’d thought a lot about falling asleep lying next to her. This wasn’t exactly as he had imagined, but it was a good beginning.
It wasn’t long before she was back, more difficult to see now because she was wrapped in a dark wool blanket similar to the one she’d laid over him. She curled up in the same corner of the swing she had vacated earlier.
Call closed his eyes. “What were you doing out here?”
“You should be sleeping, not speaking.”
“I might fall asleep before I hear your answer. Humor me.”
“It was stuffy in my room. I couldn’t open a window because of the rain so I came out on the porch.” It was true, just not all of the truth. “I wasn’t expecting you to arrive at night.”
“But you were expecting me. That’s nice.” He smiled sleepily. “It’s nice to be expected.”
“Were you successful?” she asked.
Call required a moment to understand that she was asking what had happened during his absence. “Yes,” he said. “And no.”
“Do you want to tell me more?”
“Later.”
Laurel didn’t press. It started to rain again, lightly at first and then harder. Hearing it reminded her of the falls, and she was gently lulled to sleep by sound and memory.
***
Call woke when there was just a sliver of sunlight breaking through the overcast sky. It looked to be a long day of rain, and as though to confirm his suspicion, thunder rolled from somewhere beyond the mountains.
He groaned softly, stretching, and sat up. He started to throw back the blanket and realized he was covered by two. He looked sideways to where Laurel had been sitting. She was gone but she’d left him with her blanket. He snapped them open one at a time and neatly folded them. Rising to his feet, he dropped them on the swing, picked up his hat and saddlebag, and headed for the bunkhouse.
When Call entered, Rooster stirred but didn’t speak. Dillon and Hank were deep under their covers. Call thought it was doubtful they even heard him. Three bodies occupied other bunks. Call recognized a driver and shotgun rider from previous trips. The third fellow was a mere stripling, younger than the Bookers and with even lessmeat on his bones. He looked vaguely familiar, but Call couldn’t place where he’d seen him before and couldn’t fathom why he was sleeping in the bunkhouse.
