Samantha's Cowboy

Darn it. Wade refused to drop the tree-climbing incident.

Okay. Years ago he’d fallen out of a tree and had broken his arm while visiting the Cartwright ranch. Big deal.

Sam stomped toward the barn, the nerdy financial investor dogging her boot heels. Her memory lapse had bruised Wade’s ego, confirming her suspicion that the man hadn’t heard about her near-death experience with a horse. If she had her way, he’d remain in the dark about that period in her life. She feared if he learned she suffered lingering effects from the head trauma, he’d alert her father and attempt to put a stop to her plans for the Peterson homestead. And she for darn sure didn’t care for Wade’s pity—she’d been on the receiving end of enough sympathetic stares to last a lifetime.

Mr. Financial Adviser exasperated and intrigued Sam. Wade was a nice change from her brother’s rodeo friends and the roughnecks who worked on her father’s oil rigs. An aura of sophistication surrounded Wade. His neatly styled hair, clean, crisp dress shirts and sexy cologne stirred her as no other man ever had.

Good grief, Sam. Wade has a son, which means he’s married and off-limits. Besides, converting this property into a horse ranch was her first priority. There would be time later for setting her sights on a man to share her life and dreams with.

She skirted the corner of the barn, Wade following as he swatted at a black fly buzzing his head. She swallowed a chuckle. Next time don’t wear cologne. Better yet he should stay in his corporate office and let her deal with the property renovations.

“Ya see the best chance o’ findin’ water is with a fresh-cut switch. Ya got to have a fork in the branch like a Y shape or it’s bad luck.”

“How does the stick find the water?” Luke asked.

“It jest knows.”

“A stick can’t just know,” Luke argued. “There’s gotta be a scientific reason for the twig’s power.”

“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout science. Jest magic.”

The boy gaped. “You have magical powers?”

“Some folks calls me a water witch.”

Luke shrugged. “You do kinda look like a witch. You’re old and you have lots of wrinkles.”

Sam smothered a smile behind her hand. Little Einstein was honest if nothing else.

“Years o’ pickin’ sugar beets and beans in the sun give me a face full o’ lines.”

“But you’re not mean like the witches I read about in books.”

“Enough talk about witches, Luke.” Wade’s comment earned him a glower from Millicent.

“Tell me how the stick finds water.” Luke slid his glasses up his nose.

“The stick don’t. I finds the water.” Millicent closed her eyes and said, “First, I quiet my mind.”

“Don’t your eyes have to be open to see?”

“Shush now, boy. I sees everythin’ in my head.” No one moved, then Millicent whispered, “I’m searchin’ fer an ol’ time well made o’ stone with a windlass fer haulin’ water a bucketful at a time.”