Chapter Six
Seth Clinkinbeard shifteduneasily on the wooden pew, his gaze darting between the preacher and the exit. As soon as the service ended, he made a beeline for David Dailey, who was shaking hands with fellow parishioners outside the church.
“David,” Seth called out.
“Morning, Seth. Something on your mind?” David asked.
Seth ran a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of frustration. “It’s Brenda,” he began. “She thinks I ought to be doting on her every hour of every day.”
David shielded his eyes from the bright Texas sun. “A woman needs to feel connected to her man, Seth. More than just...in the bedroom.”
Seth’s brow creased. “But we’re together every night. Thought that’d be enough.”
“Intimacy is more than what happens after dark, my friend,” David said, a knowing look crossing his weathered face. “Why don’t you take a day off? Sundays are good for resting and courting your wife.”
“Court Brenda?” Seth snorted at the thought. “I don’t have time for courting. There’s work to be done. Besides, she’s already my wife. Why would I need to court her?”
“Take a day, Seth. Take her for a drive, talk to her, listen. It’ll do you both some good,” David suggested with a gentle firmness.
Seth pondered for a moment. “All right,” he conceded with a reluctant nod. “I suppose a drive after lunch wouldn’t hurt.”
“Good man,” David clapped Seth on the shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. “You might find you enjoy it more than you think.”
The church bells had long stopped ringing by the time Seth and Brenda headed out for a drive that afternoon. “Thought you could use some fresh air,” Seth said, feeling a bit out of place trying to court his wife.
“I sure could.” A drive was the last thing she expected. “Well, I suppose I could do with a change of scenery.” He’d promised to talk with her the night before, but they’d exchanged a few words before he was dragging her to the bedroom, and as always, he fell asleep right after.
“Nice day for it,” Seth remarked, his hands firm on the leads.
“Sure is,” Brenda said.
Seth cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. “Been thinking about the ranch,” he said, squinting into the horizon. “Got plans, big ones. More cattle, maybe some more land. Our neighbors to the north have too much land for them. Husband’s getting older, and they don’t have children.”
“Sounds ambitious,” she said, watching a hawk circle lazily above them.
“Yep. And there’s the matter of inheritance. Ranch needs a son, someone to carry on the Clinkinbeard name.” He glanced at her sideways, a seriousness creasing his brow.
