Winning Over the Wrangler. Linda Ford

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      Mercy paused. “That bronc buster is a fine-looking man.” She gave Sybil a glance that demanded a response.

      “Can’t say I really noticed.”

      Mercy laughed. “Hard to see much with your face smashed against his shirtfront.”

      “He was fast enough and brave enough to rescue me. I thank God for that.” Except she’d forgotten to thank Him and she made up for it on the spot, uttering silent thanks.

      “I join in thanking God,” Linette said as she poured water from the boiled potatoes, saving it in a jar to use later, when she made bread.

      Sybil watched everything Linette did. She’d found so much satisfaction in learning to cook meals, bake bread and cookies, and even preserve garden produce for the approaching winter months. She’d only meant the trip to western Canada as a chance to start over, to rebuild her heart and strengthen the barriers around it, but she’d found so much more. She’d found purpose in doing useful things.

      “I regret Mr. Brand refused to come for supper,” Linette said. “But I’ve decided to send supper to him. Eddie said he’d be an hour yet. Would you two take a meal to Mr. Brand?”

      “Of course,” Mercy said.

      Sybil wanted to refuse, because her heart still beat a little too fast as she remembered being held so firmly. But it provided a chance to meet him in a less emotionally packed way and learn about him, so she could write a fine story. “Certainly we’ll take a meal to him.” No need for her silly reaction to repeat itself. She knew how to control her emotions.

      Linette piled a plate high with what looked to Sybil like enough food to feed a family. She couldn’t get used to the amount a working cowboy ate. Linette must have noticed her surprise. She chuckled. “I’m guessing a man who makes his own meals around a campfire would enjoy a home-cooked meal.” She wrapped the plate in a cloth and handed the bundle to Sybil.

      Sybil and Mercy left the house. They paused at the corrals, where the gate had been repaired and the wild horses had settled down. They asked where they could find Brand, and Eddie directed them to the east. They crossed the yard, the grass beaten down and brown after a summer of wear. What must it be like for Brand to eat and sleep outside as the nights grew colder? Sybil wondered. Any cowboy, not just him.

      “You be sure and have a good look at him this time,” Mercy said as they climbed the hill and made their way through some trees.

      Sybil didn’t need to give him a good look. She’d already done that and it had caused her heart to quiver. Instead, she concentrated on their surroundings. Dark pines stood like silent sentries. The golden leaves of the aspens swung to and fro, catching the sunlight in flashing brightness.

      A dog growled and Mercy grabbed her arm.

      “I don’t fancy being torn up by a cross dog,” Sybil whispered. “Maybe we should go back.”

      Mercy looked at the plate of food, then back down the trail.

      Maybe she was doing the same as Sybil...measuring how fast they could run and considering if an angry dog would stop for the food if she dropped the plate.

      “I know you’re there. Come out and make yourself known,” Brand called out.

      Her fingers clutching the plate so hard the china would certainly crack at any moment, Sybil ventured forward. “I’ll throw the food at the dog if I have to,” she murmured to Mercy.

      “Good idea.”

      They stepped into a clearing. Wood smoke shimmered in the air. The smell pinched her nose.

      A dog lunged toward them. Quite the ugliest dog she’d ever seen. Dirty brown with snapping black eyes and bared yellowed teeth. Not a big animal, but still a threat to life and limb. Only Brand’s hand at the animal’s neck restrained him.

      Sybil squeaked. At the same time, she considered what sort of man kept such a dog.

      “Quiet, Dawg,” Brand murmured, his voice so deep it seemed to echo the canine’s growl. The animal settled into watchfulness that did nothing to ease Sybil’s mind.

      She swallowed hard and shifted her attention to the man. His cowboy hat was pulled low so all she saw of his face was a strong jaw and expressionless mouth.

      She turned. “Come on, Mercy. No one is going to bite.” She faced Brand again. “I assume I am correct in saying that.” She indicated his dog, though maybe she meant more. Not that she expected Brand to bite, but he certainly filled the air with danger.

      Or maybe it was her own heart calling out the silent warning.

      “He won’t bother you unless he thinks you’re threatening me.”

      The dog settled back on his haunches and watched them.

      Mercy laughed nervously. “And how could we do that? We’re two unarmed women.” She stepped closer, hesitated when Dawg growled louder, and turned her attention to the animal. “Nice doggie. I won’t hurt you.” She put out a hand to touch the ugly dog. It lunged with a growl.

      Mercy jerked back and Sybil almost dropped the plate of food.

      Brand’s large hand gripped the dog by the ruff. “Stay!” He gave a tug and the dog settled.

      Sybil’s heartbeat hammered erratically.

      “Why do you keep such a cross creature?” Mercy asked.

      Brand looked at Sybil as he answered, though she could not see his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. “He’s my kind of friend.”

      Again Mercy laughed. “I wonder what that says about you.”

      Sybil thought the same thing. Judging by his quick, selfless actions that day, Brand deserved better company than a cross dog. But considering how he’d declined Linette’s dinner invitation, maybe he preferred it that way. That would make an interesting twist to her story.

      “Read it any way you want.”

      Sybil narrowed her eyes and watched his face for clues.

      He met her gaze. Something flickered in his eyes. An emotion she couldn’t name. Perhaps he gave consideration to his chosen solitary state.

      Having held a woman in his arms so recently, he longed—

      No. That wasn’t what she’d write.

      His isolation had been momentarily disturbed by his quick actions in saving a young woman, but he quickly reverted to his usual state. He and his dog...

      Her thoughts abandoned her as she tried to free herself from his gaze. The way he hid behind his hat, the set of his jaw, even eating at a campfire when he’d been invited to share a meal said he either welcomed loneliness or it had been imposed upon him for some reason. She studied him as if she might be able to discern which it was.

      He dipped his head.

      She drew in a sharp breath. She’d been staring. But only because she wondered about the reason for his self-imposed СКАЧАТЬ