Samantha and the Cowboy (8 page)

She came to a stop beside the corral and gave herself a
mental shake. No one had forced her to chop off her hair. She'd wanted to do it. And wearing Nate's clothes wasn't that bad. They afforded her more freedom. She actually liked them when she wasn't at a dance.

She stepped onto the first railing of the fence and folded her arms across the top. All their horses were stirring about inside the enclosure. Hopefully Jake would call an end to all the fun and they would head back to camp soon.

“Sam?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of Matt's concerned voice. “Matt, just ignore me. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight.”

Opening her eyes, she turned her face toward him. Standing on the rung, she found herself at eye-level with him. “Go back in and have some fun.”

“I can't do that, Sam. Not when you're having such a miserable time.”

“Matt, for tonight, just forget Jake's orders. Forget I'm your responsibility,” she told him.

“I might forget all that, Sam, but I can't forget that you're becoming my friend. And I've figured out what's bothering you,” he said.

“Matt, you can't know,” she said honestly.

“But I do. You've never courted a girl, have you?” he asked quietly.

She turned her attention back to the horses. “Matt—”

“Have you?” he insisted.

“No.” That much, at least, was the truth.

“I remember how nervous I was the first time I danced with a girl. You just have to realize that you're doing the girl a favor by dancing with her.”

Sam looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “Maybe she's doing you one by dancing with you.”

He grinned in the moonlight. “You'll get no argument from me on that. And when it comes to kissing—”

“I'm definitely not ready for kissing,” she blurted out.

He chuckled low. “All right, Sam. Just take it slow. If you don't want to dance, just find a girl to talk to.”

“Maybe I will,” she said, knowing good and well she wouldn't.

“I'm going to head back inside, then, find me a gal to twirl around the floor.” He ruffled Sam's hair. “Honestly, Sam, you ought to give dancing a try. Girls are soft and they smell so good. Once you get to talking to them, it's not that hard to move on to dancing and then kissing.”

She watched him walk off, then she leaned against the barn. She didn't want to dance with a girl. For that matter, she didn't want to dance with another fella, either. She just wanted to dance with Matt.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to
hold all the feelings deep inside her. She was afraid to give them a name, to contemplate them too much.

She was terrified that she was falling in love with him.

And he'd never return that love. He thought Sam was a boy. And if he ever found out that Sam was a girl…he wouldn't love her then, either. How could he love someone who had deceived him?

The undulating prairie grasses rolled out before them like a vast expanse of emptiness. As Sam's horse plodded along beside Matt's, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the aching chasm of loneliness that crept over her.

In the days that had passed since the dance, Sam had repeatedly tried to put her emotions back on an even keel. But they wouldn't cooperate. Ever since she'd imagined herself dancing with Matt, she'd realized that she was falling for him hard.

For her, the most innocent of moments was anything but guileless.

She listened to his even breathing at night while they lay side by side. It meant nothing to him, of course. He was simply sleeping beside one of the trail hands.

But sometimes, she would watch him. And wonder how it might have been between them if she'd never cut her hair and taken on the disguise of a boy.

Would she have caught his attention at the dance? Would he have approached her? Taken a few minutes to talk with her? Would he have asked her to dance? Would
he have escorted her out of the barn for a passionate kiss?

She thought about the kiss most of all. Would he kiss her slowly, take his time, make her toes curl? Would he whisper in her ear that he loved her?

“Sam?”

Sam jerked out of her reverie at the sound of his voice. Grateful that her bandanna hid her burning cheeks, she glanced over at Matt. “Yeah?”

He nudged his horse closer to hers. “It looked like you were drifting off. You gotta pay attention. The least little thing can start a stampede.”

She heaved a sigh and lied. “I
was
paying attention.”

“Some girl at the dance catch your fancy?” His eyes were sparkling and she imagined that beneath his bandanna he was grinning.

“No,” she replied curtly. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it was right after that dance that you started getting those faraway looks in your eyes. And usually when a fella is gazing at nothing, he's thinking about a woman.”

“Did someone at the dance catch your fancy?” she dared to ask.

“There were a couple of girls who I thought were pretty.” Now he got a faraway look in his eye. “And a couple who sure were skilled when it came to kissing.”

She had a strong need to stomp her foot in frustration, but that was a little hard to do when her feet were in the stirrups. He had no idea that every time he talked about girls he was tormenting her.

 

A week later Sam was staring at the churning waters of the Red River. She was on the verge of leaving Texas…going into Indian Territory and beyond that into Kansas and Missouri.

If she had any doubts about going forward, she knew she needed to address them now. Once she crossed the Red, she'd have no opportunity to go back—at least, not alone. But as much as she could smell the muddy river, she could smell the scent of money more.

Just a few more weeks and she would have completed the journey. She'd be heading home, and she'd never see Matt again. Excitement at the prospect of being with her family dimmed when she thought of leaving Matt.

She'd miss him. They'd formed a tentative friendship, a bond that she knew would snap in two if he ever discovered the truth about her.

The cattle had been crossing the river for much of the day. They seemed to be proud of their swimming skills. Their bodies sank below the surface of the river. All she could see were their heads and their horns. So many cattle swimming across.

And as usual, she and Matt were near the tail end of the herd.

“If you want, we can wait until all the cattle are on the other side before we swim our horses across,” Matt said as he sat on his horse beside hers.

Neither of them wore their bandannas pulled up over their faces. The cattle weren't kicking up dust. They were stirring up the water.

“I'm not afraid of the water. Besides, isn't a trail hand supposed to go across with the cattle?” she asked.

“Yeah, but—”

She sliced her gaze over to him, daring him to say she needed special treatment simply because she was his responsibility.

“Just remember to keep a strong grip on your saddle horn,” he said. “A tight hold on the reins. The saddle will get slippery, but you'll be all right as long as you keep your seat.”

She wished she could ease his worry by confessing that she knew how to swim, but then she'd have to explain why she hadn't ever taken a dip in the rivers they'd traveled along or camped near. They hadn't had to cross the others because they'd run north and south. But this one ran west to east.

“I'll be fine, Matt.”

“Stay close to me, Sam,” he ordered before kicking his
horse and urging it down the embankment.

Stay close to him. She'd been riding the trail for six weeks. She knew her way around the cattle. He thought she was a kid who needed protecting. It irritated her no end.

She knew his caring shouldn't, but it did.

Cinnamon balked at the water's edge. The water was swirling from all the cattle milling around. She nudged the mare's flanks. “Come on, girl, we gotta get.”

Her horse headed into the water, but by now several cows had separated Sam from Matt. She wasn't worried, though. She was confident she could handle her horse.

The water began to lap at her calves. Then it rose to her thighs. The force of the current surprised her. It hadn't looked that strong from the bank.

The cattle bawled. It seemed that some wanted to turn back to the shore from which they'd come. Others were moving in closer, their horns clacking and becoming entangled.

A cow shoved up against her. Cinnamon whinnied. The steer turned its head, its huge horns making a wide arc. Sam jerked back and balanced precariously on the slippery saddle.

With her arms flailing, she lost her seating and splashed into the water. She went beneath the murky depths. Something bumped into her from one side, something else from the other. Furry, warm. Cows. It had to be cows.

She fought her way to the surface and gasped for air. Surrounded by huge beasts, she was being knocked about. She couldn't see Cinnamon.

The water started to drag her down. She went back under. While she struggled and kicked against the current, she worked her coat off. With it gone, she found it easier to stroke, to claw her way to the top.

She broke through to the surface, took a gulp of precious air, and immediately found herself pulled back under by the strong current and the undertow created by the milling cattle.

Something hard kicked her in the side, and white lightning exploded before her closed eyes. She had to get free. Had to get free.

But everywhere she turned, she found herself hemmed in by bellies, legs, and rumps.

There was no escape.

 

“Sam!” Matt yelled.

His gut tightened into a painful knot as he watched Sam come up for air before slipping beneath the murky, reddish-brown water of the river. Woven tightly together, the cattle were bawling.

Standing in the stirrups, Matt swung his leg clear of the saddle before leaping onto the back of a steer. Horns clacked around him as he scrambled onto the shoulders of
another longhorn—all the while straining to keep Sam within his sight. He could see Sam thrashing through the water, trying desperately to paddle.

He jumped to the next steer. He saw Sam come back up, the drenched clothing had to be weighing the boy down.

The beast Matt was on started to roll. He scrambled across to the next one, and then he spotted a hole between the animals. Taking a deep breath, he dived into it.

Working his way past bellies and legs, he swam to where he hoped he'd find Sam. He broke through the surface of the water, breathing harshly. He saw Sam's flailing arms.

With sure strokes born of desperation, he swam toward the kid. He fought the rapid current, ducked to avoid a razor-sharp horn. He was not going to let the boy drown. No way, no how. He wasn't going to lose Sam the way he'd lost so many friends during the war.

As he neared, Sam went under. Reaching out, clawing through the water, he grabbed Sam's arm and jerked him up. White as a sheet, Sam was gasping for breath, the lines around his mouth tight. A sure sign of pain. Had a steer gored him? Matt had known that to happen before.

“It's all right, Sam, I've got you!” He slipped his arm beneath Sam's armpits and began churning through the water as best as he could with only one arm. He headed for the Texas side of the river because it was closer. They
could always cross to the other side later, once he knew for certain that Sam was unharmed. He could feel Sam trembling, quivering.

As he neared the bank, the bottom of the river met his boots. Standing, he hauled Sam to his feet. Had he ever noticed how slight Sam was? How thin? The kid hardly weighed anything at all.

The mud sucked at Matt's boots as he dragged Sam to the shore. Gently releasing Sam, he bent over, planted his hands on his thighs, and fought to draw air into his aching lungs. Sam crawled to a tree, sat up slightly, and leaned against it, breathing harshly.

“You were supposed”—he gasped for air—“to stay close by me.”

Sam nodded. He was turned away, holding his side.

“Sam?”

“I'm…okay.”

“A steer probably kicked you. Let me take a look-see at your ribs.” He crouched beside the boy. Putting his hand on Sam's shoulder, he turned him slightly.

And froze.

Sam's drenched clothes were plastered to his body, outlining small hills and shallow valleys.

Hills? Valleys?

Several buttons on Sam's shirt had come loose. The material parted to reveal a glistening wet mound of flesh,
a gentle swelling where there should have been nothing but flatness.

Matt scrambled back as though Sam had suddenly burst into flames. “Gawd Almighty! You're a girl!”

Livid, Matt paced. His boot heels hit the ground with one resounding thud after another. A girl. Sam was a blasted girl!

The entire time while he'd been eating with Sam and sleeping beside him—
her, her
—Sam had been a girl. Matt had ridden beside her during the day and late at night, had taught her to play poker and to rope calves.

He felt like such a fool. How could he not have known?

He'd rather face the Union Army than Jake when he found out Matt had hired a female! Matt was responsible for bringing a girl onto this cattle drive!

What would his father say when he found out? He'd wonder if Matt had forgotten to bring his common sense home from the war!

Could anything be more humiliating…or infuriating? He'd been duped! Bamboozled. Tricked.

He spun around and glared at Sam.

Only this time—for the very first time—he wasn't looking at Sam the
boy,
the
kid,
he was staring at Sam the
girl.
That face that would never produce whiskers looked
delicate, with its tiny, pert nose and soft cheeks. Long lashes framed incredible green eyes. The fact that she suddenly
looked
like a girl angered him even more.

“You lied to us! From the start, you've been lying through your teeth.”

It looked as though Sam was quickly agreeing with him. Her head bobbed up and down rapidly. But then he realized Sam was shaking uncontrollably. Dang it!

“Matt!”

He heard Jake's voice and hurried to the water's edge. He saw Jake on the opposite bank. All the cattle had crossed over and were being prodded farther into the Indian Territory. Everyone was on the far side of the river. Everyone except Sam and him.

“What's going on over there?” Jake yelled. “Are you both all right?”

He cupped his hands close to his mouth to be certain he was heard. “We're fine!”

“Need me to come back across?”

That was the very last thing Matt wanted at this moment.

“No. Sam's a little shaken, but I can handle it. We'll catch up in a while!”

He released a sigh of relief when Jake waved his hand in the air to signal he'd heard Matt and was accepting his judgment on the matter. Jake turned his horse around and
headed away from the river.

Catch up, my foot,
Matt thought.
I'll catch up, but Sam's heading back the way she came.

As soon as she stopped shivering like someone packed in a tub of ice. He waded into the water and grabbed the reins to his horse. He was fortunate the animal had returned to this shore. He rubbed Robert E. Lee's nose. “Good boy.”

He led him back into the thicket where Sam was still huddled. Dang it! Sam's lips were turning blue. Matt removed his saddlebags and saddle. He jerked the blankets off and knelt in front of Sam.

“Here.” He draped the damp blankets around Sam's shoulders.

He wished he had dry blankets to offer her, but he'd have to cross the river and hightail it to the wagon. Since it had crossed the river at the front of the herd, it would be miles away. And he couldn't leave Sam alone. As much as he wanted to, he felt an obligation to take care of her until she was out of his sight. Then he'd be able to get her out of his mind.

Sam continued to tremble. His green—no,
her
—green eyes were large and round, but it didn't look as though she was really looking at anything.

“Shock. You're probably in some sort of shock.” He'd seen that often enough during the war—after a battle. Whenever a fella couldn't quite figure out if he'd
really managed to survive—and if he had, how? “You're all right, Sam, you hear me?”

Sam nodded.

If Sam had been a boy, Matt would have stripped off his soaked clothes. As it was, he tucked one blanket in closer to her body, then wrapped another around her legs. “I'm gonna start a fire.”

Swearing softly beneath his breath, cursing his gullibility, he quickly gathered small twigs, some larger fallen branches, and dry driftwood. Then he grabbed his saddlebag and scrounged through it until he found the metal box where he kept his matches housed. During the war he'd learned the value of keeping his matches dry.

After striking a match, he carried the flame to the small pile of leaves and twigs. He could hear Sam's teeth clattering. Matt was mad enough to spit and more worried than he'd ever been in his entire life.

He'd accepted responsibility for Sam the boy…he couldn't discharge it just because he'd discovered Sam was a girl. If anything, he felt more responsible now.

And deceived.

The flame caught and the leaves began to crackle as they ignited and spread the fire.

He didn't want to remember all the things he'd shared with Sam the boy. He'd begun lowering his defenses, allowing a friendship to develop with the kid—only the relationship had been false, built on a bald-faced lie.

Matt had always been honest with Sam, and Sam had never been honest with him.

Resting on his haunches, Matt twisted around. A blue shadow was circling her blue lips. The blankets weren't warming her enough and the fire might not take the chill off quickly enough. He unfolded his body and jerked his shirt off. He spread it over a bush close to the fire so it would be dry when he was ready for it.

He walked over to her and crouched beside her. He wanted to chew her up and spit her out. “I'm mad enough to swallow a horned toad backward.”

She bobbed her head. “I know. W-w-what are y-y-you going to do?”

“We gotta get you warm. Body heat's the fastest way.” Sitting, he worked his back against the tree. He drew her onto his lap, pressing her close against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

She nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. “I-I'm s-sorry, Matt,” she croaked.

“Not as sorry as you're gonna be,” he promised.

Briskly he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying to create friction and heat. He heard her teeth tapping together. The water had been cool, but he suspected it was more her harrowing plunge into the river that had her quaking so badly.

He'd never been this furious in his entire life. Or embarrassed by all the private things he'd revealed.
Including his bare backside!

No wonder Sam had run off. Gawd almighty!

“I-I do know how to s-swim,” she said, as though she knew the direction his mind was headed.

“Then you were lying when you told me you didn't.” His entire body heated up with the memory of shucking his clothes in front of her. If her damp clothes weren't between them, he figured he'd scald her skin with his embarrassment.

She nodded jerkily. “When I…f-fell in the r-river…the current was too strong, and the cattle kept getting in my way,” she stammered.

“Did you lie about everything?” he asked, unable to rein in his anger. It slithered through his voice like a snake about to strike. Yet he took no comfort in her blanching.

“Not my name.”

“Your parents named you Sam?” he asked, no longer willing to believe anything she told him.

“Samantha.”

He could see her as a Samantha. And for some reason, that image irritated him even more.

“I didn't lie about my age, either.”

Then she
was
sixteen. At least now he knew why she didn't have any danged whiskers. Her age had nothing to do with her soft cheeks or her quiet voice.

“Or the reason that I wanted to come on this cattle drive.”

She tilted her head back and held his gaze. It was strange how knowing now that she was female made her eyes seem much softer, much greener. Drops of water clung to her spiked eyelashes, and he fought the urge to gather them with his lips.

She looked vulnerable and helpless. Yet he knew she had determination and courage. It rankled…the things he knew about her that he'd accepted so easily when he'd thought she was a boy. Now he was having to twist his thinking all around, and some things simply didn't want to be bent.

“I need the money bad,” she said.

She no longer trembled. As a matter of fact, he was beginning to feel the warmth of her body easing through the dampness of her clothes to mingle with his. Her teeth no longer clacked and tiny shivers no longer cascaded through her. His reasons to hold her no longer existed.

“You okay now?” he asked gruffly.

She nodded slightly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He eased her aside and stood. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” she asked, alarm rippling through her voice.

He snatched his shirt off the nearby bush. It was still damp in a few spots but for the most part it was dry. He tossed it onto her lap. “Put that on. I'm gonna go find your horse.”

He started to stride away.

“Matt?”

He stilled and glanced back over his shoulder. With her hair plastered to her head, and her face still pale, she reminded him of a drowned kitten.

She licked her lips. “You gave me your word that you wouldn't tell anyone my secret.”

“That's when I thought your secret was that you couldn't swim!” He was shaking almost as badly as she'd been. “I've got no choice, now that I know the truth. I have to tell Jake. You being a girl puts this whole operation in danger.” He strode away, confusion dogging his heels.

Every time he looked at Sam, he'd get angry all over again. But he felt something else as well. Something he couldn't quite identify.

He'd developed a friendship with Sam. The thought of losing that hurt as deeply as her betrayal.

 

In bare feet, Sam sat on a log before the fire. She'd pulled off her boots and placed them close to the flames. Her shirt was now draped over the bush where Matt had put his earlier. She'd hung her britches there as well and wrapped the blanket securely around her.

It was going to be bad enough when they returned to the outfit and everyone learned she was a girl. She didn't want to be damp and shaking when she faced Jake. It had been awful, trembling in Matt's arms.

It had also been…comforting. Having him hold her. Her face had fit within the crook of his shoulder as though it belonged there. His arms around her had confirmed what she'd always suspected. He was strong, but also gentle.

She knew he was angry, understood that he had a right to be. She'd lied to him from the beginning. She'd cut her hair, spent close to six weeks trailing cattle—for what? They surely wouldn't pay her for the time she'd given them. Payment came at the end of the drive.

And she'd never see that day.

Besides, he'd warned her that Jake would brook no lies. And she'd lied every hour of every day…not with words, but with her disguise.

She knew beyond a doubt that Jake would send her packing…unless she could somehow convince Matt to keep her secret.

She heard footsteps and glanced up. Matt was leading Cinnamon into the clearing.

“Found her,” he said without any emotion in his voice. He held up her jacket. “Found this, too.”

He tossed it over the bush where her other clothes waited. He tethered Cinnamon to the low branch of a tree and wandered over to the fire. He hunkered down beside her and stared at the writhing flames.

His chest was still bared, and she remembered how warm it had been, how solid. She'd wanted to stay within his embrace until nightfall. Draw on his strength, his sturdiness.

But he'd dumped her off his lap as soon as he'd gotten her warm. And his vow to tell Jake the truth would get her kicked out of the outfit. She had to appeal to the part of him that had become her friend. “Matt?”

“Do you have any idea of what you've done?” He lunged to his feet and began to pace. “Jake trusted me.”

He twisted around and glared at her. “Trusted my word. I told him to take you on.” He plowed his hands through his hair. “He's gonna think I haven't got sense enough to spit downwind when he learns how you bamboozled me into believing you were a boy.”

“Then don't tell him,” Sam commanded.

“Did you get kicked in the head while you were struggling in the river?” he demanded.

Slowly she came to her feet. “I've been on this trail for six weeks. No one has figured it out. I can keep up the pretense for a few more weeks.” She gave him a wry grin. “As long as I stay clear of rivers.”

He obviously didn't appreciate her sorry excuse at humor as he glowered at her. “You can't stay. You're a girl.”

“Which I've been all along!”

She took a step toward him and held out her hand. He looked at it as though she was offering him a snake. She lowered her hand to her side.

“Matt, I'm desperate. I didn't lie to you about how badly my family needs that hundred dollars.” She grabbed her shorn locks. “I whacked off my hair. I've eaten grub
and ridden drag until the dust nearly choked me, and I've never once complained. I'm a hard worker, Matt.”

“I never said you weren't. But you're a girl! You lied to me, Sam. Every step of the way you lied to me.”

His anger was palpable. She took a step back. “Would you have tried to convince Jake to take me on if you'd known I was a girl?” she asked.

“Heck fire no!”

“Which is exactly what I figured. So you gave me no choice but to hide the fact that I was a girl. Our pa died three years ago, the crops are barely making it. I've got a younger brother and sister…and my ma. The worry lines in her face run so deep now. I was desperate, Matt, desperate to get on this drive. I was willing to lie to anyone I needed to in order to accomplish that goal. Do anything that I had to do.” Tentatively, she eased closer. “No one has to know that I'm a girl.”

“I know,” he ground out.

“Please, Matt—”

“I can't, Sam. It's bad luck to have a girl on a drive. I'm not going to be responsible for this drive failing.”

“Coward!” she spat.