Samantha and the Cowboy
Read Samantha and the Cowboy Online
Authors: Lorraine Heath
AN AVON TRUE ROMANCE
and the
Cowboy
L
ORRAINE
H
EATH
For Brandon and Alex
May your journeys lead you toward your dreams
and the roads you travel always guide you home
With her heart thundering, Samantha Reynolds read the notice thatâ¦
SamanthaâSam, she had to remember her name was now Samâstoodâ¦
“Samantha Jane Reynolds, have you lost your ever-lovin' mind?”
As the sun eased over the horizon, blanketing the skyâ¦
The sun was directly overhead when Sam noticed the cattleâ¦
The kid's gratitude nagged at Matt's conscience. Hiring the boyâ¦
Sam looked downright terrified as all the blood rapidly drainedâ¦
It wasn't nature's call that Matt needed to deal with;â¦
The clanging of iron against iron brought Sam awake withâ¦
Sitting near the fire, Sam watched as Squirrel, Slim, Jed,â¦
A few days later, Matt sat beneath a tree whileâ¦
The undulating prairie grasses rolled out before them like aâ¦
Livid, Matt paced. His boot heels hit the ground withâ¦
As the sun began to set, Matt urged his horseâ¦
Sam shoved her bedroll into the supply wagon. Fighting theâ¦
Three days later, Matt was still thinking about that kiss.
Wicked. Sam felt terribly wicked as she sank into theâ¦
The first rays of the morning sun danced across Sam'sâ¦
Long after they'd crossed the river, as night began toâ¦
Sitting on the ground with her back against a wagonâ¦
The torrential rain eased off into an irritating drizzle. Theâ¦
“Do you have any idea what kind of danger youâ¦
Samantha sank into the hot water that lapped against theâ¦
“Told you Sam would show,” Matthew said.
Mr. Vaughn reached into his pocket and tossed a coin to Matthew, who caught it.
Matthew winked at her. “He bet me two bits you wouldn't come.”
Samantha didn't know why his wink had made her feel as though they shared an intimate secret or why she found the slight curve of his lip intriguing. He wasn't looking at her the way that a boy looked at a girl in whom he had an interest. But she suddenly realized that she might be staring at him as a girl wouldâ¦because it dawned on her with unexpected clarity that Matthew Hart was as handsome as sin.
Faithful, Texas
1866
W
ANTED
!
B
OYS FOURTEEN AND OLDER TO HERD CATTLE
TO
S
EDALIA
, M
ISSOURI
.
W
ILL BE PAID
$100
AT END OF DRIVE
.
I
F INTERESTED
,
SEE THE TRAIL BOSS AT
7
IN
THE MORNING OUTSIDE THE GENERAL STORE
.
With her heart thundering, Samantha Reynolds read the notice that someone had tacked to the wall outside the general store. A hundred dollars seemed like a fortune. What she wouldn't give to be a boy, so she could have the opportunity to earn that money for her family!
At sixteen she could barely remember the last time that coins had jingled in her reticule. Mr. Thomas, the owner of the general store, allowed her family to buy on credit. He kept a tally of supplies purchased and debts owed. Samantha didn't want to consider how long their tally sheet was getting to be. It had been months since
her mother had been able to hand any money over to Mr. Thomas.
At this very moment her older brother, Benjamin, was loading their most recent purchases into the wagon. At twenty, he was old enough to be hired for the cattle drive. But she knew it would be nearly impossible to convince him to go. Since he'd returned from the war that had devastated many of the southern states, he was reluctant to do anything that took him away from their farm.
Her sister Amy was fourteen, old enough. But just like Samantha, she wasn't a boy. Her younger brother, Nate, was only twelve. He wouldn't qualify.
Samantha thought about the bolt of blue calico she'd seen inside the store. She wanted to sew a new dress, but the material was expensive as all get-out at ten cents a yard. She was wasting her time longing for it and hankering for any of the frippery and finery that the general store was slowly starting to stock, now that the war had ended.
Still, she did yearn for things. She wanted the life she'd had before the War against Northern Aggression, as most folks in these parts referred to it. She longed for people to start laughing again. Or if they couldn't laugh, at least to smile once in a while.
A hundred dollars wouldn't return life to the way it had been, but it would purchase several bolts of calico,
canned goods to last through the winter, a new hoe, some chickens, a cow, and too many other things to count. She got dizzy with the possibilities swirling through her mind.
“I think we ought to have us a spring dance,” the girl standing beside her on the boardwalk said.
Lost in thought, Samantha had almost forgotten Mary Margaret Anderson had been visiting with her. They'd been best friends forever. They'd sat beside each other in the one-room schoolhouse until they were fourteen and passed the exam that proclaimed they knew all that was to be taught. They'd shared confidences and dreams.
“We finally have some fiddle players in the area, and most of the boys learned to play a harmonica while they were away,” Mary Margaret added.
“Do you even know how to dance?” Samantha asked distractedly, more interested in the notice than in dancing. If she stared at it long enough, maybe the words would change to include girls.
“For pity's sake, Samantha Jane, I could learn,” Mary Margaret told her. “So could you.”
“Why would I want to learn to dance?”
“Because we're growing up!” Mary Margaret pointed out.
Samantha knew she should be excited at the possibility of attending a dance, but she had very little interest in boys. She remembered a time when she'd raced against
them, climbed trees with them, even on a few occasions wrestled with them, but that was years ago.
Before most of the boys in the area had run off to join the army as soon as they were old enough to beat a drum.
She'd matured into a young woman with no males around to speak of, except for those who were too old to fight and those too young to hold a weapon. She'd experienced no dances or Sunday picnics or peering coyly beneath her eyelashes at a young man across the classroom. The war had taken the young men from the classroom and placed them on the battlefields.
Although many had returned home, none had struck her fancy. Mary Margaret was constantly talking about boys. How handsome Jeremy was, or what pretty eyes Luke had.
If Samantha noticed boys at all, she noticed how strong they looked, mentally figuring how many acres of land they could plow in a day. She certainly had no desire to have one stepping on her toes while they danced.
She didn't want to talk about the local boys or the possibility of a dance. She preferred to discuss ways to ease her mother's burden, but once Mary Margaret turned her mind to a subject, she stuck with it.
“Do you think Benjamin would ask me to dance?” Mary Margaret asked.
Samantha snapped her gaze to Mary Margaret. She had her complete attention now. “Benjamin?”
She was surprised to see twin spots of red appear on Mary Margaret's cheeks.
“I think your brother is fine looking,” Mary Margaret admitted.
“Do you fancy him?” Samantha asked. She'd never thought of her brother attracting any girl's attentionâleast of all Mary Margaret's.
“Of course I do. Not that it does me any good. I'm invisible, as far as he's concerned.” Frustration rippled through her voice.
“Benjamin isn't noticing much of anything these days,” Samantha said kindly. Benjamin had returned from the war minus an arm. She didn't blame him for resenting his loss, but it did seem that his anger was hurting him more than anything else had. “He's still adjusting to coming home not quite whole.”
“Lots of fellas lost limbs,” Mary Margaret said. “Benjamin is still strong, though.”
“He needs something to help him get his confidence back,” Samantha mused. She touched the notice. “I wish I could get him to consider doing this.”
Mary Margaret glanced at the notice. “How long does it take to get cattle from here to Sedalia?”
“A couple of months, I suspect,” Samantha said quietly.
“Then I hope he won't do it. It would only take him away from me for a spell, and he was gone long enough.”
“But a hundred dollars.” Samantha sighed wistfully. “We could do a lot with that money. I'd go if I could.”
Mary Margaret's eyes widened. “It's calling for boys. Not girls.”
“Which isn't fair,” Samantha told her. “I'm just as capable as any fella.”
“Samantha Jane!” Benjamin called out. “Wagon's loaded. Let's go.”
Samantha tore her gaze away from the notice. “Benjamin, did you see this?”
Wearing his usual scowl, her older brother ambled over.
“Hello, Benjamin,” Mary Margaret said coyly.
Samantha had never seen her friend bat her eyelashes so rapidly.
“You got something in your eye?” Benjamin asked.
Mary Margaret stilled her eyelashes. “No.”
Samantha felt a pang for her friend. Why couldn't Benjamin notice Mary Margaret the way she wanted to be noticed? She wondered if she'd have as much trouble getting a young man's attention if she ever found one who piqued her interest.
Pouting, Mary Margaret said, “Guess I'll see if my pa's ready to go.”
Mary Margaret disappeared into the general store.
“You could have been nicer to her, Benjamin,” Samantha scolded.
“I showed concern about her eyes. If she didn't have something in them, what was her problem? Did she develop a nervous twitch during the war?”
She didn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. She definitely pitied Mary Margaret for setting her sights on Benjamin. “She was flirting.”
He furrowed his brow. “Flirtin'? With me?”
“Do you see any other man standing around here?”
“Why would she flirt with me?”
“Because she hasn't got a lick of sense,” Samantha said under her breath. She tapped the notice on the wall, drawing his attention back to the reason she'd called him over. “Did you see this?”
She waited impatiently while he read the notice, then she blurted, “You could do that, Benjaminâjoin that outfit, go on that cattle drive.”
“They need men with two arms,” he grumbled as he turned away. “Let's go.”
Disappointment reeling through her, she took one last longing look at the notice. Why couldn't she have been born a boy?
“Samantha Jane!” Benjamin hollered. “Stop dawdling!”
She scurried to the wagon and clambered onto the
bench seat beside her brother. Slipping her bonnet over her head, she jerked the ribbons into a bow beneath her chin. Why wouldn't he even consider the possibility that he
could
do it? If only she wasn't a girl, she'd sign up in a heartbeat. Heck fire, she'd already be waiting in line.
With a quick flick of his wrist, Benjamin set the horses and the wagon into motion.
She'd been terrified that Benjamin wouldn't return from the warâ¦and in a way, he hadn't. The reticent young man sitting beside her now baffled her. He didn't seem to care about anyone or anything. He'd been badly wounded at Shiloh. He'd lost his arm during the battle he wouldn't even talk about. But he was still healthy and strong. And working on a cattle drive would bring in a lot more money than the crops.
She glanced over her shoulder at the pitifully small amount of supplies that Mr. Thomas had allowed them to purchase on credit today. Flour. Sugar. Nothing beyond the essentials. She didn't consider herself greedy, but it was difficult when all their hard work never gave them enough for something extra. And what would they do when Mr. Thomas got tired of doling out credit?
“I thought cowboys just rode their horses and kept the cattle plodding in a straight line,” she said quietly as they passed by the bank. It was the only brick building in town.
“Usually. Unless there's a stampede, or a flood, or cattle rustlers. A man's gotta have two good arms. That's all there is to it,” he said.
“Couldn't you at least give it a try?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She thought about the worry lines in her mother's face. Lines that had deepened since her pa had gotten sick and died of pneumonia three years before. Why did life have to be so hard?
Why couldn't she have been born a boy?
Â
Later that night Samantha lay in bed beside her younger sister. Amy had fallen asleep shortly after Samantha had blown out the flame on the candle. But sleep wasn't coming as easily to Samantha.
Staring through her window at the stars glittering in the midnight sky, she was hoping to catch sight of one as it fell so she could make a wish. A wish for better times.
A wish that her mother wouldn't look so tired. That the dark circles beneath her eyes would fade. That the furrows in her brow caused by worry wouldn't run so deeply.
That Benjamin wouldn't be so unhappy. That he'd realize he was alive, and that reason alone was cause to rejoice. That he might come to understand why Mary
Margaret wanted his attention.
For all her wishes, she needed more than one falling star. She wished that Amy could have a new dress instead of always having to wear Samantha's worn and frayed hand-me-downs.
She wished that her younger brother, Nate, wouldn't have to leave the table hungry. At twelve, he was heading into his growing years. Ma kept saying he must have a hollow leg because he ate so much but stayed hungry. Samantha had noticed how her mother wasn't eating very much of late. She'd started giving most of her helping to Nate. Samantha had begun to do the same thing.
Right now, crops were plentiful, but what would they do come winter? Would they have enough to see them through?
She just couldn't stop thinking about that promise of a hundred dollars. If only Nate was a little older, he'd probably go on that cattle drive. She wondered if Ma would lie about his age so he could go. A lie seemed like such a small thing when Samantha thought of all they would gain. Nate would leave here with empty pockets and come back with coins a-jingling. Was a white lie really that Gawd-awful?
They'd be able to pay off their debt to the general store. They could stock up on cans of food and dry staples for the winter. Maybe they could even purchase
a new milk cow. Old Bess was truly getting old.
But Samantha couldn't see her mother telling a lieâor letting Nate go off on his own. He was her baby, after all.
Samantha sighed wistfully.
I'm old enough and not afraid of hard work. If only I were a boy.
If onlyâ¦
Her heart started to pound, sending the blood thrumming between her temples. She was old enough. She wouldn't have to lie about her age. She wouldn't even have to fib about her name if she were to shorten it. Hadn't her pa always called her Sam when she'd worked in the fields with him?
Glancing at her sleeping sister, she eased out of bed. The moonlight streaming through the window guided her to the dresser. Carefully she struck a match and lit the tallow candle. The tiny flame quivered as though it dreaded her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder at Amy to make certain she hadn't disturbed her. She still slept soundly.
Samantha moved the candle closer to the mirror as she gazed at her reflection. She wouldn't call her features delicate. Not like Mary Margaret's. However, she wouldn't classify herself as plain, either. Just not overly fragile looking.
Samantha knew the only things about her person
that truly identified her as female were her long reddish hair and the gentle swells on her chest. Scissors could get rid of the long strands, and binding would eliminate the evidence of her breasts. She could flatten them with a long length of material, something from her mother's quilting basket, wound tightly around her chest. A little dirt on her cheeks and chin to hide the fact that she had no whiskersâ¦