This Calder Range (Calder Saga 1)

“And a girl of your own?” Benteen asked to make sure the boy understood that Lorna was private property.

“Mr. Calder.” He stood up quickly, almost snapping to attention.

Benteen took the challenge out of his voice. “Thanks for keeping my wife company.” There was still a slight emphasis placed on her marital status.

“Yes, sir.” Joe Dollarhide awkwardly bowed to Lorna. “Night, ma’am.”

When he started to retreat, Benteen said, “I want you to look over the remuda tomorrow, Dollarhide, and see if there’s a gentle horse in the lot—something a lady can ride sidesaddle. If there isn’t, I want you to pick the most likely one and break it for my wife. Let me know whose string the horse is from and I’ll put it right with him.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man’s shoulders were pushed back, proud that he had been trusted with the responsibility.

As the lad moved into the shadows around the fire, sidestepping bedrolls, Benteen reached for the coffeepot on the fire’s edge. “If we can find a gentle horse, you won’t have to spend all your time bouncing in the wagon,” he said to Lorna as he filled an empty cup left near the pot. “Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She shook her head, the glow of the firelight flattering her clear features. “I don’t see how you can drink it when it’s so thick.”

“That’s when it’s good.” He smiled and crouched on his heels beside her, amused by her grimace of distaste. When he took a swallow, his glance ran beyond the tin rim to sweep the camp area. “Where’s Mary?”

“She and her husband have already retired for the evening,” Lorna answered.

He glanced at the Stanton wagon, and said nothing, letting the silence run between them. From a distant prairie ridge there was the yap-yapping howl of a coyote, trailing off on a thin, wavering note.

“Coyotes?” Lorna asked.

“Yes.”

“I heard them once before, when I was a child,” she said. “I never realized how lonely they sound.”

“You’re not used to the quiet.”

She huddled closer toward the fire, as if seeking its warmth. The shawl was pulled tightly around her shoulders to keep out the coolness of the Texas night. There was a strange mixture of vulnerability and strength in her profile.

“You’d better turn in,” Benteen suggested. “Tomorrow’s going to come quick.”

There was a second of hesitation as she glanced at him. “What about you?”

It was difficult to read her look, half-thrown into shadows by the firelight. But something in her attitude fanned his close-held needs. She did that to him, making him want to open up and let her into his most secret thoughts.

“I’ll be along.” Benteen took another drink of coffee, breaking contact with her look, guarding himself with an aloofness that he didn’t fully understand.

Another second went by before she stood up and adjusted the ends of her shawl more closely around her middle. Her long skirts made a soft swishing sound in the tufted grass as she walked to the rear of their wagon. Benteen kept his back to it, listening to the strike of a match and catching the brief flare of light from the lantern wick. He thought of the long journey ahead of them and the cattle land that waited for them in Montana. The picture of it was burned in his mind—the thick grass, the limitless sky.

This Texas sod he stood on was part of the past he was putting behind him, the lost causes that had been his father’s and the Southern code of chivalry that had often tied his father’s hands. But not his. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

“Holy Jesus.” Shorty Niles swore under his breath somewhere in the collection of bedrolls.

Benteen was snapped out of hi

s inward-turned thoughts by the sudden electricity that swept through the night. His first thought was the herd, until he saw Rusty pivoting abruptly so he wasn’t facing Benteen’s direction. Which was also the direction of his wagon. He jerked his glance over his shoulder, where it was caught and held by the lantern backlighting the canvas covering and a woman’s silhouette. Her arms were rising above her head, taking with them a layer of clothing that changed the shape of her silhouette. The roundness of the upper part of her body had its effect on him, filling Benteen with a second of intense desire.

But he wasn’t the only one seeing this. Springing upright, he discarded the cup and crossed the short distance with long, reaching strides, outrage vibrating through every sinew. He yanked the canvas flap loose and swung into the wagon bed all in one move. Startled, Lorna swung around to face him, half-undressed.

“Blow out that lantern,” he snapped in a low growl.

“But I can’t see.” She blinked in innocent confusion.

He reached past her to do it himself. “You’ll undress in the dark. You and this light are putting on a show for the whole camp!”

His accusation was met with silence; then her embarrassed whisper came from the wagon’s darkness. “I didn’t know.”