The Heart's Frontier (25 page)

R
iding lead, Luke set an aggressive pace. At first the herd was reluctant. They were accustomed to an easy, sauntering stride while tearing up a mouthful of grass every few steps or so. He targeted a few of the lead steers and stayed on their heels. By midmorning the herd had spread out wide and settled on an acceptable speed, though he kept a close eye on the sun’s position as they passed familiar landmarks. The longer they took to get to the bedding ground he had in mind, the less sleep he would allow tonight.

The oxen pulling the Switzers’ wagon easily kept pace alongside McCann and the chuck wagon in front of the remuda
. Luke kept watch on the occupants. If it turned out there was a reward for those rustlers, dead or alive, by rights it belonged to everyone. He planned to suggest instead that the money be turned over to Willie’s and Kirk’s families. He would take a vote later, but he was pretty sure the men would agree with him.

At the sight of that wagon, with its hulking wooden hutch, a chuckle rumbled in his chest. Mrs. Switzer had insisted on driving, while Jesse and the prisoners rode squashed in the back. Every time Luke looked that way, Mrs. Switzer’s mouth was moving. What could she be saying hour upon hour? From this angle he couldn’t see Jesse’s expression, so he couldn’t judge his friend’s mood. The chuckle turned to a snicker. Served him right. That boy had some growing up to do.

His curiosity finally got the best of him. It was time to check on the outfit anyway. He’d start with the Switzer wagon.

As he neared, he heard the sharp tone of her voice first, and then he was able to make out words.

“‘A handful of patience is worth more than a bushel of brains.’ A favorite of my dearly departed, that was. And this one too: ‘You can’t make good hay from poor grass.’ Ah, my Carl. A better man never set foot on the Lord’s earth, no matter what the bishop said. He loved to hear my proverbs. Said he could hear the Lord’s voice when I quoted. The Bible ones I had to say in English. Carl didn’t understand German.”

Lester and Earl had been tied back-to-back in the bed of the wagon behind the bench, where Mrs. Switzer sat with the oxen’s rope in her hand. The pair were wedged between the sideboard and the hutch, but they were tied up and couldn’t move around. The rocking chair had been placed at the back of the wagon. Jesse sat there looking comfortable with a pleasant expression, not nearly as irked as Luke would have thought after being forced to listen to hours of proverbs and Amish wisdom.

Luke’s horse approached the wagon as Mrs. Switzer turned her head to fix Lester with a stern look. “Heard this one, have you? ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness.’ Taking to heart this one would do you good. When next we stop I will beg sody and a toothpick from Mr. McCann for cleaning your teeth.”

Earl let out a chortle, and the sour-faced Lester rewarded him with a backward head-butt.

Jesse sat stiffly upright in the rocking chair. “Settle down there.” He delivered his warning with a glare, and then he relaxed back into his passive, almost peaceful expression.

Luke slowed Bo’s pace to match the wagon and came up alongside Jesse. He readied himself for a string of complaints at being left as captive to Mrs. Switzer and the two rustlers.

“How’re you doing?”

“Huh?” Jesse gave him a blank look before reaching up to pull a wad of cotton wool out of each ear. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. What’d you say?”

Luke’s laughter rolled over the Kansas plain. “I’m making sure everything’s all right here.”

“We’re fine. Just fine.” Jesse swept a hand to encompass the sky. “Pleasant day for an easy ride.”

He was stuffing the wool back in his ears when Luke, still laughing, steered Bo away from the wagon. His next stop was to check on the westernmost flank riders.

Emma sat astride her horse like an experienced cowpoke. Well, except for the black fabric of her dress bunched around her thighs, and the black trousers that she had tied in place with bits of twine at the ankles. And her ever-present white
kapp
, which prairie dust had turned into a dingy brown.

The moment their gazes met, she looked away. Luke couldn’t tell if the faint touch of color in her cheeks was from the heat or from shyness. They had not spoken privately since her startling revelation that she’d snuck away from camp in the night to talk to him. Here they were in plain sight of everyone, but so removed that no one could hear their conversation.

He nudged Bo with his knees to fall in step beside Sugarfoot. “Everything going okay here?”

His question received a hesitant nod but no comment. She looked straight ahead, giving him a view of a very pretty profile. A man could get used to enjoying this sight every day.

“You look like you’re sitting easy in the saddle. Is it feeling more natural now?”

She nodded.

The horses walked along a few yards. Whatever it was she wanted to talk to him so badly about last night sure didn’t seem to be so pressing today.

“Emma? You mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something. This would be a good time.”

“It wasn’t important.” The blush was definitely a darker shade of pink now. “I…wanted to thank you again for helping us.”

She was clearly avoiding the truth, and he didn’t know how to answer. He studied her as he considered a response. A steer not far in front of them started to veer to the west, toward the inviting green prairie grass that waved in the breeze. Like an experienced cowboy she dug in her heels to urge her horse into a trot and cut the wandering animal neatly off. He obediently resumed his former position, and Emma slowed slightly to allow Luke and Bo to catch up.

“You know, you’ve taken to this easier than most greenhorns I’ve worked with. If you decide you want a job, I’ll hire you for my next cattle drive.”

Emma, a cowhand? He caught back a chuckle. The awkward silence was starting to get to him and made him want to fill the void with talk.

At least the ridiculous statement elicited a reaction. She turned to look at him full-on, her expression full of surprise at his ludicrous suggestion.

“No, really,” he insisted. He’d look like a fool if he backed down now. “There are women on the trail. Not many, but I’ve met one or two.”

Words failed him as he recalled a female cattle wrangler he met a couple years back. He’d waded into a saloon to fish Jesse out and found a woman matching him drink for drink. It came out later that she’d cleaned him out at the poker table too. Definitely a different class of female than Emma.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t think I’d make a very good cowboy.” The humor twitching around her lips heartened him. She didn’t take offense easily.

“On second thought, the job is a bit rugged for most women.”

“You’d probably take to the Amish way sooner than I would to the life of a trail rider.” The words were delivered in a comfortable, light tone. So why did he feel like she was waiting for his response so closely?

His shrugged. “Oh, I doubt that.”

She fixed her gaze on the herd, her posture slumping. What did he say? Women. He’d never had trouble connecting to one before. Hadn’t he saved her life a few hours ago? Why, then, was he stumbling over a simple conversation?

The answer came to him the instant he posed the question. He’d never felt an attraction this strong for any woman. An invisible rope stretched between them as they rode along side by side. Even when he was up at the front of the herd and she back here, he felt the connection. Is that where the term “getting hitched” came from? Did it start with this invisible bond?

“Listen, the other day you mentioned learning how to handle a lasso. If you’re still interested I could show you a trick or two when we stop to rest the herd.”

A smile curved her lips. He found himself watching her mouth, remembering the almost magnetic pull he’d felt just before he lifted her onto her father’s horse in the predawn darkness.

“I would like to learn.”

“Good. All right. Until this afternoon, then.”

He spurred Bo’s sides, and the horse leaped into a gallop toward the front of the herd. Luke refused to look behind him, but he felt Emma’s gaze pinned to his back. His mood was curiously light, as if she’d agreed to step out with him for a romantic evening stroll after supper.

It’s only a rope handling lesson
.

Regardless, he found himself looking forward to the afternoon as eagerly as a kid waiting for a hot cookie.

By the time Luke called a halt for the planned midday rest, Emma had worked herself around a wagon wheel of emotions. His quick denial of her comment about the Amish lifestyle had delivered a crushing blow. Did his answer mean he’d thought about the idea and rejected it? If not, did his offhand manner mean he would never consider becoming Amish?

A relationship between us is doomed. Why do I torture myself?

And what was behind his offer to teach her to handle a rope? Was that a less than subtle hint that she should consider adopting his lifestyle? The idea of her going with him on a trail drive was so far beyond reason that she couldn’t believe he’d even joke about it.

It
was
a joke, wasn’t it?

The cattle welcomed the stop and immediately spread themselves across the open range, feasting on the prairie grass that grew amid the bristly sagebrush, and quenching their thirst in a watering hole fed by a shallow stream. A few trees stretched sun-bleached branches toward one another to form a sparse shade along the banks of the stream, and soon a cluster of cattle crowded beneath them in search of relief from the blistering July sun.

“We’ll give them a couple of hours,” Luke told the outfit. “You men might want to get some rest yourselves.” He tossed a grin toward
Maummi
, still seated high on the wagon’s bench. “And you ladies too.”

Emma drew Sugarfoot alongside the wagon and swung her leg over the horse’s back. She still hadn’t managed to climb into the saddle on her own successfully, but gravity worked with her on the dismount. She landed on her feet, a little unsteadily, and then hurried to help
Maummi
down from the wagon. As she did, she spared a quick glance at the captive rustlers. Lester straightened upright as much as his bonds would let him, scanning the activity nearby.

His gaze rested on McCann, and he raised his voice. “You, Cook! You got room in the chuck wagon? Let me ride with you. Tie me up, gag me, I don’t care. I give you my word I won’t try nothing.” He tossed an anxious glance toward
Maummi
. “Just get me away from this woman.”

“Quiet, you.” From his perch in
Maummi
’s rocking chair, Jesse growled his warning at the kidnapper. “Your word is worth less than your spit.”