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Glen swallowed hard. He'd been fighting to ignore these thoughts for so long that it was coming hard. He didn't realize how long he'd been sitting there until he saw Catherine looking up at him expectantly.
He closed his eyes a moment to quiet his thoughts, and then stood up. Catherine turned to Ada. "What are you going to do if you need anything?"
"Go to Missus Henderson!"
"Good. And how do you get to her house?"
Ada turned around in a full circle before deciding on which direction it was and pointing. Glen couldn't keep the smile off his face, until he could. Then he didn't much want to.
Catherine was regretting the decision to sell the horse already. She'd only brought a little money, but she couldn't spend one more minute in that man's arms or she'd have to accept his marriage proposal. The one he hadn't made.
She thought back about Ada, worrying how she'd gotten along. It occurred to her again what it must look like, her coming into town nestled into the man's arms like she was. If anyone knew he wasn't her husband…
Well, if they knew anything about who her husband had been, there was already talk. How much worse could it get, just because she was unchaperoned with a man?
She pulled the horse to a stop and Glen slid off the back, holding up a hand to help her down after he'd brushed off the dust from two days on the road. She decided it would be petty to ignore him. In spite of the spark it shot through her every time his skin brushed against hers, she took his hand and slid down herself.
Glen busied himself tying off the horse to the post, and she went on inside.
"Can we help you?"
Catherine frowned a bit, slipping into the routine they'd already formed over the past few days. It was easier to act as if she was hapless than it was to try to play the hardened investigator.
"I've been having some trouble, you see. Some of my cattle went missing—I'm sure you boys didn't have a thing to do with it, of course—but I think they'll have sold them off."
The butcher raised his eyebrows. "You've got a rustling problem, huh? Well, I don't know what to tell you. We know our sellers here. We only buy direct from ranchers. Helps to avoid those exact problems."
"Oh, no, of course. I understand. I just wanted to know if anyone came around, trying to sell off any underweight cows, perhaps?"
The man shook his head again, more insistently. "Nothing like that, ma'am. Good luck
with your search. I'd suggest you ask around the Sheriff's office down in Rawlins."
"I'm afraid I did, you see."
Glen came in at a convenient time and finished for her.
"He seemed a little busy, so we thought we might ask around the area, just make sure they didn't take our cattle anywhere and try to pass it off as their own."
"No, sir. Nothing like that, as I was just telling your wife."
"Oh, no—"
"Thank you for your time," Glen said, taking her by the arm. She wasn't his wife, that was for sure. But as they left, she realized that he might have been right not to explain. Time was of the essence. More than a week out, who would remember a couple of cattle coming through?
They got back on the horse. Just a few places more to check. Then on the way back, they could hit the auction houses. Easy. They'd be back home within a week, and with a little luck, she'd be able to find a way to get her own ride, so that she could finally escape Glen's all-too-comfortable grasp.
Fourteen
They were later than he would have liked. Before the auction would have been ideal, but the road was the road. The truth was, as uncomfortable as sitting two-to-a-saddle was, he liked it more than he was ready to admit.
After all, a good-looking woman in his arms was hardly something that he was used to. He would take advantage of the opportunity as long as he could.
They pulled up in front of the auction house when the horse was still fresh, and Glen knew right away that they were later than he would have liked from the sound of the auctioneer calling out prices. He let himself off and then helped Catherine down and busied himself with tying the lead off while she went inside.
They had plenty of time to wait. There was no need to interrupt the auction in progress, unless they were sure they saw their cattle on the block. A dozen head at most, it would be odd to sell at auction. But if they mixed markings, it would be even more suspect.
Glen wasn't sure what to think about the whole thing. If he'd resorted to stealing, then he would hardly have held onto it. But then, he would have just sold the cows for meat, and they'd checked every town within twenty miles, and none of them had given him anything like the impression that they were lying. They hadn't seen the cattle.
