The Cowboy's Convenient Proposal

“That wasn’t— I didn’t— Oh, what’s the use? You’re determined to twist every word and action of mine into some sort of attack.”

She stepped back into the circle of light to glower at him. “I most certainly do not.”

“Uh-huh, you do. Now can you keep quiet long enough to hear my plan?” He paused for good measure. “Unless you’ve thought of one?”

Her glower deepened as she was forced to acknowledge she had not. “Go ahead. Talk.”

He chuckled. “Knew you wouldn’t admit you had no plan.”

“You gonna tell me this wonderful plan or flap your jaws?”

He grinned at her. “Like I asked before, you ever lose an argument? No, wait. What I mean—” He leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose. “Do you ever admit it?” The lamplight reflected in her eyes, filling them with something he hadn’t seen before—wasn’t sure what to call it. Perhaps fear. Or loneliness? Even though it was barely a shadow, hardly a hint, he knew it was there, and knowing, all resentment left him.

He straightened. “Belle is hungry.”

“So what? We’ve been hungry before. Expect we will be again.”

He decided it wise to refrain from saying they would not go hungry while they lived in this cabin. “I’m going to build a nice fire over there.” He pointed to where Eddie had dug a fire pit, lined it with rocks and placed logs around it at a safe distance to use as benches. “And start cooking up a meal. I’m guessing she’ll soon come out of hiding when she smells the great food I cook.” He grinned, meaning it as teasing. After all, he was a cowboy and only cooked out of necessity, and even then it was the simplest of fare. But at the way her eyes widened and the loudness of her swallow, he guessed she was as hungry as Belle. Right then and there he vowed to make the best meal he’d ever made.

He led the way to the fire pit and soon had a roaring fire going. Red reached out her hands to the flames. For the first time he considered she wore only a brown dress. Belle had on a shapeless gray thing that had seen better days. That observation coming from a cowboy who spent weeks in the same clothes indicated a large degree of wear and tear. Good thing he could count on Linette to help him on that score.

“You stay here. Maybe she’ll come back when I leave.”

Red’s gaze jerked from staring at the flames to look at him. “You’re going?”

“Just to get supplies.”

He dashed across the road to the cookhouse. “Cookie, quick, lend me a bottle of that meat you put up.”

Cookie crossed her arms and looked at him like he’d suddenly sprung a second head. “What for? My cooking not good enough for you?”

He jerked to a halt and swallowed hard. He had no desire to offend Cookie. “I’ve got two hungry females over there.” He gave a wave in the general direction of the cabin.

“Didn’t the boss send you out to bring back his horse and saddle? Instead, you come back with two women?” She sniffed her disdain.

“The horse and saddle are in the barn. Red and her sister are going to stay in the cabin.”

“A horse thief! Whose idea was that?”

“Linette’s.”

Cookie’s scowl disappeared in a wreath of confusion.

“They understand why she had to do it.” As quickly as he could, Ward explained how Red had to rescue her little sister. “And now she’s out in the trees, hiding in fear.” Before he finished, Cookie started filling a basket with jars of meat, bottles of preserved vegetables, fresh produce and some biscuits.

“You tell her to come over in the morning and I’ll have freshly baked cinnamon rolls.”

“I’ll tell her.” He grabbed the supplies and hurried back to the cabin. He dumped meat and vegetables into a cast-iron pot. As he worked, he thought of how Red looked and sounded scared when he said he was going. She’d unwittingly allowed him to see that she liked having him there, though she would deny it with every breath she had. Not that he intended to mention it. He would simply accept it as a step forward. Balancing the lamp in one hand and the makings of a meal in the other, he made his way back to the fire. No one sat beside Red or anywhere around the fire. “She hasn’t come back yet?”

Red shook her head. “Belle?” she called. “Come on, honey. It’s nice and warm here.”

“She do this often?” Ward asked as he fashioned a spit over the fire and hung the pot. He dug a hole nearby and dropped in several hot stones, put a pan of potatoes still in their jackets on top and left them to bake.

“Do what often?” He doubted Red tried to keep the challenge out of her voice.

“Run away.”

“Did you see the little room in the saloon? Well, that’s where she’s spent the last four months. Apart from when Thorton thought to take us out for a walk, and he made plenty sure to hold tight to her hand. So, no, she doesn’t do this often.”

“I’m sorry. I never realized, though I suppose I should have.” He’d seen the little room, even noticed how the window was barred, allowing only slits of light to enter. “She’ll have lots of chance to roam free out here.”

“Hope she doesn’t get lost.”

Ward thought it best to not echo his worry along the same line. After a bit the stew bubbled, and he moved it down the spit to simmer while the potatoes cooked. The smell of food was enough to flood his mouth with saliva. He’d eaten a fair-sized breakfast but nothing since. He guessed Red hadn’t eaten since the day before, and who could guess when Belle had last eaten. He hoped the aromas floating from the pot should soon bring her in. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“It’s fine.”

“I suppose your head is fine, too?”

“Yup.”

“Would you admit if it hurt like fury and your leg pained clear to your eyeballs?”

She laughed, a sound that startled him, expecting, as he was, another fierce argument. “I’ll admit it hurts some, but seeing as there’s nothing for it but to endure, doesn’t seem much point in bemoaning the fact.”

He’d told himself the same thing many times so couldn’t argue. Somehow hearing her say it made him like her just a little. “You will keep an eye on your leg and make sure it doesn’t get infected? If you see any sign of it, let me know. Linette will have ways of treating it.”

“I can manage on my own.”

“I was only being helpful.” He felt her wariness and recalled her earlier words. “And I don’t expect any form of repayment in return.”

“I would pay cash for the use of the cabin if I had any. I don’t. Nor do I aim to repay favors with favors.”

He sighed loud and long. “I would not take either.” He tested the potatoes with a fork. They were cooked. He trotted back to the cabin for dishes, paused to fill a bucket of water at the well. Back at the fire, he handed her two plates, forks and cups.

“Thank you,” she said.

He chomped down on his teeth to keep from saying it was good to see she had a measure of manners. “Call out and tell Belle the food is ready.”

“Belle. There’s food. It smells mighty good. Can you smell it?”

They both waited silently for a sound of the little girl. To his right, the grass rustled.

“She’s coming,” he whispered.

“Ward made lots of stew and there’s baked potatoes. When was the last time you had a whole potato?”

The grass rustled some more, then Belle hovered at the edge of the darkness.