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Lorna confidently faced him and challenged, “You still haven’t told me where you’ve been all this time.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll come by the house tonight and we’ll talk.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, whiskers scraping his rough palm. “Right now, I need a shave and a bath.”
“Come for dinner,” Lorna invited.
“Six o’clock?” That was the usual time the Pearce family dined.
“Yes,” she nodded.
The smile he gave Lorna was for her alone, but he turned and politely touched the brim of his hat in deference to her girlfriend. His stride wasn’t quite so heavy when he continued down the street.
The first time he’d seen her was two years ago in her father’s store. Even then Benteen had been attracted to her, but of course she’d been too young. From that day on, he’d become a regular customer of Pearce’s Emporium, hoping to catch glimpses of her. During trailing season, her parents didn’t allow her to come to the store. Cowboys on the town, even those with the utmost respect for the gentler sex, could sometimes get offensive when they’d had one too many glasses of red-eye. The Pearces naturally wanted to protect their daughter from such regretable advances.
When Lorna had turned sixteen, Benteen had asked her father’s permission to come calling. With some initial reservations about his ability to provide a good living, his request had been granted. Benteen had never doubted from the moment he saw her that he would someday make Lorna his wife.
Before he’d left on the trail drive last spring, he’d asked for her hand in marriage. He hadn’t wanted to set a wedding date until he’d found a place for them. Benteen had always known his father would have welcomed him and his bride at the ranch, but there was no future. The Cee Bar was gradually being squeezed out by Judd Boston. It was only a matter of time before Boston acquired it on a tax sale. The ranch couldn’t support his father, let alone Benteen and Lorna.
For the last three years he’d been saving every dime he could. He’d rounded up mavericks and added them to the trail herds he’d taken north. He’d managed to put almost a thousand dollars aside, with the thought of buying a place where they could build a future. Now that money could go into putting together an outfit to trail north with a herd of maverick longhorns from the Texas brush, since the land in Montana Territory was going to cost him only a filing fee.
Lorna would make him the perfect wife. Her head wasn’t filled with dreams about big cities and fancy clothes like his mother. She was sensible and practical —and beautiful. The blood ran strong through his veins.
Lorna’s nerves were all ajumble when she heard the footsteps on the front porch. She didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was Benteen. Her pounding heart told her to run to the door to meet him, but a girl shouldn’t appear too anxious. It wasn’t proper—and, Lord knew, there were times when Benteen made her feel very improper.
She pretended to straighten a setting of silverware on the table, covered with her mother’s best linen cloth. There was a knock at the door. She caught her father’s faintly amused glance as he looked up from the day’s issue of the Fort Worth Democrat.
“It must be Benteen,” she murmured.
“Must be,” he agreed dryly and managed to keep the pipe clenched between his teeth as he spoke.
The long skirt of her china-blue dress rustled softly as she moved slowly toward the door. When she passed the oval mirror in the small foyer, Lorna stole one last glance at her reflection. Her dark hair was swept atop her head, making her look much more adult than she had when he’d seen her that afternoon. She hated for him to think her immature, as he sometimes did, she knew. She definitely looked older—all of eighteen, at least.
When she opened the door, Benteen stood for a minute just looking at her. The bold inspection disturbed her in a way that Lorna wasn’t quite sure she should feel. Or maybe it was the change in his appearance that was affecting her.
His hat was in his hand, leaving his head uncovered. Thick brown hair gleamed with polished mahogany lights in the rays of the setting sun. His lean cheeks were freshly shaved, revealing the natural strength of his features. He was wearing a clean white shirt and a string tie. But nothing seemed able to dim that innate power she sensed in him.
“You’re a little early,” Lorna said. She felt the need to conceal her pleasure, and she knew the clock hadn’t chimed the hour yet.
“Shall I leave and come back?” Benteen mocked her.
“Of course not.” She reached for his hand to draw him into the house.
She was conscious of the pleasant roughness of his fingers as they closed around her hand, holding it firmly. His dark eyes continued to focus on her. Their intensity was something she was never certain how to handle.
“Daddy’s in the parlor.” Lorna walked with him to the doors. “You can talk with him while I help Mother in the kitchen.”
“Don’t be too long,” he said. “I’m starved.”
He released her hand without objection. As Lorna slipped away, she had the crazy feeling he wasn’t talking about food. It excited her the way he looked at her sometimes. Other times, she was glad her parents were in the next room. Even now that she and Benteen were engaged, they were seldom left alone for any long period of time. Usually they sat on the front porch while her parents sat in the parlor. Anytime there was a lull in their conversation, her mother invariably came out to offer them lemonade or refreshments of some sort. Lorna was glad that Benteen respected her too much to suggest they go anywhere without the chaperonage of her parents, p
artly because she was afraid she might be tempted to agree.
They sat across the table from each other at dinner. At times like this, it was easy for Lorna to imagine how it would be when they were married and lived in a house of their own. She looked forward to having her parents over to dinner.
“Did you say you went up into the Montana Territory, Benteen?” her father inquired as he passed him the bowl of potatoes.
“Yes.” He helped himself to an ample portion. “They’re opening up the Indian country to the east. The grass up there is stirrup-deep, ideal cattle range. I’m staking a claim on a choice section of it.”
“You are?” Her father studied him with interest and apparent approval. Lorna brightened with pride.
