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He leaned forward on the saddle horn as his horse shifted its weight. “What do you think?”
“Hmmm,” she said, squinting at him. She liked the easy way he talked to her. “Perhaps your mother had a sweet tooth, but I think it is a nickname.”
He nodded.
“All right, then what is your real name?”
“Some people say you should never give your real name away, or a person could gain power over you.”
“Fair enough. I’m Eliza Flemm,” she said with a smile.
Cookie grinned and nodded at the woman behind him. “This is Lenny.”
“Hello, Lenny.”
“She doesn’t talk much, but she understands you just fine,” he explained.
Eliza studied the long, dark hair that hung down her shoulders in two braids, and her stunning olive-toned skin. A hat rode low over her bright-gold eyes, and she was dressed in a baggy shirt and trousers. Even the mannish clothing couldn’t hide her natural beauty. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lenny.”
Movement caught her attention and dragged her gaze over at the corral. Garret rode down a line of fence with the confidence of a man who knew his place in the world. He was powerful and alluring, with the masculine fluidity of some deliciously dangerous, half-tamed predator. And those brilliant eyes! They could trap a woman’s spirit with a look.
Roy appeared behind him on the gray gelding, and she made a conscious effort to clack her mouth closed. Cookie waved, then he and Lenny headed down the dirt road. Garret turned to leave with them, but must have changed his mind because he wheeled around toward the porch and skidded to a stop in front of her so unexpectedly, his horse heaved a great snort and danced backward a few steps before he settled. The disappointment that he would leave so soon was replaced by a fluttering of hope in Eliza’s stomach.
Garret’s eyes were full of a fire she didn’t understand as he looked her up and down. “Roy, I don’t know who she is, but you and I, of all people, know a lady don’t belong out here.” He tossed a glare at Roy, then kicked the skittish mount under him and gave her one last angry glare before he turned his mount and took off after the rest of his party. He left a trail of dust in his wake.
He didn’t remember her.
Garret Shaw didn’t remember her.
She couldn’t breathe. Not only that, but he had, in so many words, told her to leave. Why did those words, coming from someone she hadn’t seen since childhood, sting so badly? His anger echoed through her bones. Aunt Elizabeth had said worse daily, but the power of her insults couldn’t hold a candle to the careless reprimand that had come from his lips.
As the trio of riders disappeared in the distance, Roy maneuvered his horse to block her view of them. His eyes softened with sympathy. “His life turned hard after you left here, Eliza. After his momma died everything went south and stayed that way.”
“In your last letter, you said he was still away at school. Why did you lie?”
Roy shook his head. “Didn’t feel like a lie. The Garret you knew died years ago. When his pa passed, he came back determined to get the Lazy S back up and runnin’ again. He’s setting up territory.” The volume of his words trailed from his voice at the end, and Roy cleared his throat before he started up again. “His pa nearly laid that ranch to the ground with his drinking, so Garret has his work cut out for him. If anyone can save that place, it’s him.” Roy sighed and dismounted his horse. “Lizzy…Eliza…I know you’ve thought fondly of Garret since you were knee-high to a grasshopper, and I understood when you wrote me about him. I didn’t want to change your memories of him with the truth, so I gave you the updates I thought you needed. I never thought you would see either of us again. Garret sure is different now. Hard living and too much responsibility have made him a calloused man. A good man, but only at a distance, you hear?” He jutted his chin at the landscape. “This place makes monsters of men. Best you get him out of your head before you get hurt.”
“I daresay he certainly has changed,” she whispered, staring at the dust trail that was settling in the distance. “And for the worse, if you want my opinion. Don’t worry about me, Roy. I’ll not waste my thoughts a minute longer.”
By the look on his face, the traitorous shake in her voice hadn’t been lost on him either. She would definitely be wasting thoughts on him.
Roy shook his head and put his hat on. “I have to go work on that damned plow while I still have daylight. I could use some company.”
He took off walking toward one of the outbuildings, leaving Eliza to trail after him, and her billowing skirts after her.
In the hours before dark, Roy worked relentlessly on the wood-rotted plow. She did what she could, handing him new wood and proper tools as he asked for them, but hadn’t the faintest idea how to help beyond that. It was a miracle the old plow could even stay upright.
She cocked her head at the splintering contraption. “Looks like you need a new plow.”
“No money for that. Besides, she just needs a little extra attention and she’ll be right as rain by morning. Hand me that file.”
She did, and he worked tirelessly to sharpen the blade. Besides the rhythmic scraping of metal against metal, the only other noise in the clearing was the first yip of a coyote. As it stretched its voice into long, mournful notes, she closed her eyes against the green and turquoise streaks in the darkening sky. It had been so long since she’d heard the prairie song.
After a late dinner of dried beef and warm beans, Roy lit his pipe. Every night she could remember from her childhood, he’d smoked, the smell of tobacco wafting around her while she’d played on the rug in front of the stone fireplace.
Tonight, as he read by the dim candle light, she wrote of the adventures of the day in her journal. Tomorrow she would start work on her dress to remove most of the underskirts and take it in, make it more appropriate for her new life. Water was precious, and less fabric meant easier laundering out here. She wouldn’t miss the stiff crinoline that held her dress to its full form—not even a little. Her wardrobe would have to be adjusted, just as her body and spirit would.
She was not soft.
