This Calder Range (Calder Saga 1)

Instinctively her legs tightened around him. He took it slow, dragging it out to make it last, aware of her hips urging him. Her face was turned away from him, as if to hide the wild need her body was already showing him. His hand forced her face around, his thumb seeking her parted lips to open them more. As the first quivering spasm began to shake her, his kiss filled her opened mouth with his hard tongue. His own shudders drove him deeper into her.

Afterward he gathered her satisfying body into his arms and hugged her to his side. “You are a shameless woman,” he murmured against her dark hair.

“Don’t say that,” Lorna protested in an alarmed whisper.

“It’s true.” He breathed in the warm, musky smell of her. “You leave me with nothing.”

“I thought you meant …” She didn’t finish it, closing her mouth before the rest came out.

“Feel how small you’ve made me.” He took her hand and showed her.

She brought her hand quickly back to his chest. His chuckle was a silent one, amused by her persistent attempt at modesty when she had been anything but modest a few minutes ago.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lorna murmured.

“You pick the oddest times to be bashful about certain things. That’s all,” Benteen assured her, and kissed her temple. “You’d better close those dark eyes and try to sleep. We’re going to be rising with the sun.”

“Good night.” She snuggled against him, all soft and warm against his rock-hard frame.

11

They’d been on the trail over three weeks and still hadn’t left Texas. Monotony had set in. One day was little different from another as they traveled across a rolling prairie that seemed nonending. The only variation came from the weather. Most of the time it was clear and hot, with the sun making its glaring track across a cloudless sky. When there was a wind, it didn’t bring relief. Instead it whipped Lorna’s face, burning her cheeks and sending its particles of prairie dust through all her clothes.

The first time the gray clouds darkened the sky, she thought rain would be a blessing, but she soon learned it wasn’t. For four days it was dismal and wet, drizzle alternating with a steady downpour that saturated everything. She ate and rode in wet clothes, and shivered and slept in them, too. And the men were in the saddle almost around the clock, the night watches doubling, and on bad nights when the herd wouldn’t lie down, all of them rode.

Lorna saw little of Benteen. He was always up and often in the saddle before she awakened, checking the herd. Sometimes a whole day would go by without her seeing him at all. Many nights she was asleep when he came to bed. She had not seen this compulsive side of him before. Benteen pushed himself harder than he pushed anyone else. She’d mentioned it to Mary once, when Rusty was within hearing—the crusty cook allowed them to help with some of the camp chores but not the cooking.

Rusty had supplied the explanation: “He’s the trail boss. It’s part of his job to be first up in the mornin’ and assign each drover his duty. He has to ride ahead and see where water is, know where to stop at noon and make camp at night. He’s gotta keep a tally of the cattle to know if any is lost. If there’s any dispute among the men, his word is law. A trail boss always rides three, four times the distance the herd covers.”

With Benteen absent so much of the time, Lorna doubted that she could have endured the loneliness if it weren’t for Mary Stanton. In such a short time, she had become closer to the woman, telling her things that she wouldn’t have dreamed of saying to her mother or Sue Ellen. But neither her mother nor Sue Ellen had experienced trail life. Having Mary for a friend was like having an older sister. Lorna felt free to discuss things that once she considered unmentionable. There were a lot of things she wanted to know about married life, which would make her sound too ignorant if she asked Benteen all of them. Most of the answers, Mary knew, and others they jointly speculated on. Mary was very frank and open—no subject was taboo.

Mounted on fresh horses, a trio of drovers rode out of camp to relieve the cowboys watching the nooning herd so they could come in to eat. Lorna paid scant attention. There were always comings-in and goingsout at camp. Soon there would be dishes to be done. In the meantime, she was busy moistening the cuttings from her mother’s roses. She didn’t even look around when she heard the pounding hooves of a cantering horse appro

ach the camp. It gave a blowing snort as it was reined in.

“What are you doing?” The voice belonged to Benteen, and Lorna turned, lighting up inside at the way he was studying her. He was leaning an arm on the saddle horn, mindless of his head-tossing horse.

“I’m watering my rose slips,” she said, and showed him the cuttings. “Do you see how well they’re doing? And you said they’d die,” Lorna reminded him.

Benteen didn’t comment. “I told Dollarhide to saddle your horse. I thought you might like to ride ahead with me this afternoon.”

It was a rare invitation which Lorna was silently delighted with. Feeling provocative, she tipped her head to the side and showed him a look of feigned surprise. “Do you mean that you’re actually going to spend some time with me? It’s so seldom that I see you for more than five minutes.”

His gaze narrowed, but a smile was showing. “You’re getting a bit saucy, aren’t you?”

“I don’t understand why you would say such a thing,” she declared innocently, then laughed.

“I’m going to grab a bite of food. I’ll see you later.” His tone indicated the subject would be brought up again, but with a certain bemusement in it that said he wasn’t upset. It was a reaction to the way she was flirting with him.

There was a gleam in her eye when Benteen reined his horse away from the wagon and walked it to the chuck wagon. Within seconds after he’d left, Lorna was hurrying over to tell Mary of the afternoon outing.

When Mary had expressed her pleasure for Lorna’s sake, Lorna asked the same question she’d asked before. “Are you sure you don’t want me to speak to Benteen about a horse for you?”

Mary’s answer was the same. “No, I’m sure. The only way I know how to ride a horse is astraddle. That was all right when I was a little girl on the farm, but it’s definitely not something a married woman should do.”

“But I could teach you to ride with a sidesaddle,” Lorna persuaded.

It was a tempting offer, because Mary fancied looking as ladylike as Lorna did, but it was for that very reason that she refused. She didn’t want to admit to envying Lorna. She doubted that she would ever be able to achieve Lorna’s skill or grace, and what good would it do her if she did? She had better things to do with her time, she convinced herself.