“Of course.” Quint nodded, making the connection. “Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett.”
“Trey’s been calling him Crockett ever since.” Laura eyed her brother with mild annoyance.
“Does this beau of yours have a full name?” Quint asked.
“Boone Rutledge. His father is Max Rutledge.”
“The Max Rutledge? The cattle and oil tycoon from Texas?” Quint questioned with freshening interest.
“The same.”
“You’ve roped yourself a big one.”
“I know,” Laura replied, conscious of the heady satisfaction she felt at Quint’s reaction to the news.
“Is it serious?” Quint wondered.
“It’s a little soon to say.” Yet she was confident that if she wanted Boone, all she had to do was go after him. It was an idea that had a definite appeal, especially when Laura considered the additional power and prestige that would accompany a marriage to Boone.
“We get to meet him next week,” Trey inserted that tidbit of information. “He’s coming to the horse sale.”
“Actually, Boone and his father are flying in two days early so they can preview the sale lots,” Laura explained.
“The sale lots or one filly in particular?” Trey teased.
Quint was more practical. “Will they be staying at The Homestead?”
Laura shook her head. “They’ll be at Tara’s. She’s known Max for years.”
“I guess we know where you’ll be spending those two days.” Trey sent her a knowing smile.
“Boone isn’t a man you can catch by chasing him,” Laura informed him.
But it was the certainty in her voice that prompted Trey to challenge. “How do you know that?”
“The same way you know which way a cow is going to jump when you try to separate her from the herd. You read the body language. Sometimes all it takes is a twitch of a muscle,” Laura replied. Observing his slightly dumbfounded reaction, she laughed. “You didn’t think it was some great mystery, did you?”
“I never thought about it at all,” Trey replied with easy candor and eyed her with disapproval. “But you’ve gotta admit the way you talk about catching a man sounds a bit calculating.”
“And I suppose you have never calculated what the best way to approach a girl might be,” Laura scoffed. “Why is it wrong for a woman to apply similar tactics?”
When Trey started to answer, Quint held up a silencing hand. “Don’t get into that argument. I guarantee you’ll lose it.”
The bell above the door tinkled. Automatically Laura glanced toward the entrance as a scruffy-looking boy of about seven slipped inside. She noticed the way his glance scoured the restaurant area as if looking for someone. An instant later the clatter of billiard balls had his head jerking in the direction of the bar. After a slight pause, he headed toward the pool table. But there was something hesitant, almost fearful, about his movements that captured her attention.
“Someone you know?” Trey asked in jest, observing her interest in the boy.
“No,” Laura replied easily. “But if someone washed his face, he might be cute.”
“A little young, though,” Quint observed.
“I like them young.” Laura smiled, all the while keeping a curious eye on the boy as he approached the two men playing pool.
One man, the younger of the two, seemed to be the object of the boy’s attention. Dark-haired and burly, he was bent over the pool table, arm muscles rippling as he took aim on the cue ball. The cue stick in his hand shot forward in a lightning-swift strike. Laura heard the rapid roll of the ball and the click of it hitting another. On the flat top of the bumper, a chalk cube weighted down two paper bills.
As the ball tumbled into a pocket, the man straightened, a dark scowl of concentration creasing his expression as he studied the lie of the remaining balls on the table. He seemed unaware of the boy watching him until he moved to that side of the table and his glance landed on him.
“What are you doing here?” The man snapped in obvious irritation.