The Heart's Frontier

TWENTY-FOUR





Riding lead, Luke set an aggressive pace. At first the herd was reluctant. They were accustomed to an easy, sauntering stride while tearing up a mouthful of grass every few steps or so. He targeted a few of the lead steers and stayed on their heels. By midmorning the herd had spread out wide and settled on an acceptable speed, though he kept a close eye on the sun’s position as they passed familiar landmarks. The longer they took to get to the bedding ground he had in mind, the less sleep he would allow tonight.

The oxen pulling the Switzers’ wagon easily kept pace alongside McCann and the chuck wagon in front of the remuda. Luke kept watch on the occupants. If it turned out there was a reward for those rustlers, dead or alive, by rights it belonged to everyone. He planned to suggest instead that the money be turned over to Willie’s and Kirk’s families. He would take a vote later, but he was pretty sure the men would agree with him.

At the sight of that wagon, with its hulking wooden hutch, a chuckle rumbled in his chest. Mrs. Switzer had insisted on driving, while Jesse and the prisoners rode squashed in the back. Every time Luke looked that way, Mrs. Switzer’s mouth was moving. What could she be saying hour upon hour? From this angle he couldn’t see Jesse’s expression, so he couldn’t judge his friend’s mood. The chuckle turned to a snicker. Served him right. That boy had some growing up to do.

His curiosity finally got the best of him. It was time to check on the outfit anyway. He’d start with the Switzer wagon.

As he neared, he heard the sharp tone of her voice first, and then he was able to make out words.

“‘A handful of patience is worth more than a bushel of brains.’ A favorite of my dearly departed, that was. And this one too: ‘You can’t make good hay from poor grass.’ Ah, my Carl. A better man never set foot on the Lord’s earth, no matter what the bishop said. He loved to hear my proverbs. Said he could hear the Lord’s voice when I quoted. The Bible ones I had to say in English. Carl didn’t understand German.”

Lester and Earl had been tied back-to-back in the bed of the wagon behind the bench, where Mrs. Switzer sat with the oxen’s rope in her hand. The pair were wedged between the sideboard and the hutch, but they were tied up and couldn’t move around. The rocking chair had been placed at the back of the wagon. Jesse sat there looking comfortable with a pleasant expression, not nearly as irked as Luke would have thought after being forced to listen to hours of proverbs and Amish wisdom.

Luke’s horse approached the wagon as Mrs. Switzer turned her head to fix Lester with a stern look. “Heard this one, have you? ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness.’ Taking to heart this one would do you good. When next we stop I will beg sody and a toothpick from Mr. McCann for cleaning your teeth.”

Earl let out a chortle, and the sour-faced Lester rewarded him with a backward head-butt.

Jesse sat stiffly upright in the rocking chair. “Settle down there.” He delivered his warning with a glare, and then he relaxed back into his passive, almost peaceful expression.

Luke slowed Bo’s pace to match the wagon and came up alongside Jesse. He readied himself for a string of complaints at being left as captive to Mrs. Switzer and the two rustlers.

“How’re you doing?”

“Huh?” Jesse gave him a blank look before reaching up to pull a wad of cotton wool out of each ear. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. What’d you say?”

Luke’s laughter rolled over the Kansas plain. “I’m making sure everything’s all right here.”

“We’re fine. Just fine.” Jesse swept a hand to encompass the sky. “Pleasant day for an easy ride.”

He was stuffing the wool back in his ears when Luke, still laughing, steered Bo away from the wagon. His next stop was to check on the westernmost flank riders.

Emma sat astride her horse like an experienced cowpoke. Well, except for the black fabric of her dress bunched around her thighs, and the black trousers that she had tied in place with bits of twine at the ankles. And her ever-present white kapp, which prairie dust had turned into a dingy brown.

The moment their gazes met, she looked away. Luke couldn’t tell if the faint touch of color in her cheeks was from the heat or from shyness. They had not spoken privately since her startling revelation that she’d snuck away from camp in the night to talk to him. Here they were in plain sight of everyone, but so removed that no one could hear their conversation.

He nudged Bo with his knees to fall in step beside Sugarfoot. “Everything going okay here?”

His question received a hesitant nod but no comment. She looked straight ahead, giving him a view of a very pretty profile. A man could get used to enjoying this sight every day.

“You look like you’re sitting easy in the saddle. Is it feeling more natural now?”

She nodded.

The horses walked along a few yards. Whatever it was she wanted to talk to him so badly about last night sure didn’t seem to be so pressing today.

“Emma? You mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something. This would be a good time.”

“It wasn’t important.” The blush was definitely a darker shade of pink now. “I…wanted to thank you again for helping us.”

She was clearly avoiding the truth, and he didn’t know how to answer. He studied her as he considered a response. A steer not far in front of them started to veer to the west, toward the inviting green prairie grass that waved in the breeze. Like an experienced cowboy she dug in her heels to urge her horse into a trot and cut the wandering animal neatly off. He obediently resumed his former position, and Emma slowed slightly to allow Luke and Bo to catch up.

“You know, you’ve taken to this easier than most greenhorns I’ve worked with. If you decide you want a job, I’ll hire you for my next cattle drive.”

Emma, a cowhand? He caught back a chuckle. The awkward silence was starting to get to him and made him want to fill the void with talk.

At least the ridiculous statement elicited a reaction. She turned to look at him full-on, her expression full of surprise at his ludicrous suggestion.

“No, really,” he insisted. He’d look like a fool if he backed down now. “There are women on the trail. Not many, but I’ve met one or two.”

Words failed him as he recalled a female cattle wrangler he met a couple years back. He’d waded into a saloon to fish Jesse out and found a woman matching him drink for drink. It came out later that she’d cleaned him out at the poker table too. Definitely a different class of female than Emma.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t think I’d make a very good cowboy.” The humor twitching around her lips heartened him. She didn’t take offense easily.

“On second thought, the job is a bit rugged for most women.”

“You’d probably take to the Amish way sooner than I would to the life of a trail rider.” The words were delivered in a comfortable, light tone. So why did he feel like she was waiting for his response so closely?

His shrugged. “Oh, I doubt that.”

She fixed her gaze on the herd, her posture slumping. What did he say? Women. He’d never had trouble connecting to one before. Hadn’t he saved her life a few hours ago? Why, then, was he stumbling over a simple conversation?

The answer came to him the instant he posed the question. He’d never felt an attraction this strong for any woman. An invisible rope stretched between them as they rode along side by side. Even when he was up at the front of the herd and she back here, he felt the connection. Is that where the term “getting hitched” came from? Did it start with this invisible bond?

“Listen, the other day you mentioned learning how to handle a lasso. If you’re still interested I could show you a trick or two when we stop to rest the herd.”

A smile curved her lips. He found himself watching her mouth, remembering the almost magnetic pull he’d felt just before he lifted her onto her father’s horse in the predawn darkness.

“I would like to learn.”

“Good. All right. Until this afternoon, then.”

He spurred Bo’s sides, and the horse leaped into a gallop toward the front of the herd. Luke refused to look behind him, but he felt Emma’s gaze pinned to his back. His mood was curiously light, as if she’d agreed to step out with him for a romantic evening stroll after supper.

It’s only a rope handling lesson.

Regardless, he found himself looking forward to the afternoon as eagerly as a kid waiting for a hot cookie.





By the time Luke called a halt for the planned midday rest, Emma had worked herself around a wagon wheel of emotions. His quick denial of her comment about the Amish lifestyle had delivered a crushing blow. Did his answer mean he’d thought about the idea and rejected it? If not, did his offhand manner mean he would never consider becoming Amish?

A relationship between us is doomed. Why do I torture myself?

And what was behind his offer to teach her to handle a rope? Was that a less than subtle hint that she should consider adopting his lifestyle? The idea of her going with him on a trail drive was so far beyond reason that she couldn’t believe he’d even joke about it.

It was a joke, wasn’t it?

The cattle welcomed the stop and immediately spread themselves across the open range, feasting on the prairie grass that grew amid the bristly sagebrush, and quenching their thirst in a watering hole fed by a shallow stream. A few trees stretched sun-bleached branches toward one another to form a sparse shade along the banks of the stream, and soon a cluster of cattle crowded beneath them in search of relief from the blistering July sun.

“We’ll give them a couple of hours,” Luke told the outfit. “You men might want to get some rest yourselves.” He tossed a grin toward Maummi, still seated high on the wagon’s bench. “And you ladies too.”

Emma drew Sugarfoot alongside the wagon and swung her leg over the horse’s back. She still hadn’t managed to climb into the saddle on her own successfully, but gravity worked with her on the dismount. She landed on her feet, a little unsteadily, and then hurried to help Maummi down from the wagon. As she did, she spared a quick glance at the captive rustlers. Lester straightened upright as much as his bonds would let him, scanning the activity nearby.

His gaze rested on McCann, and he raised his voice. “You, Cook! You got room in the chuck wagon? Let me ride with you. Tie me up, gag me, I don’t care. I give you my word I won’t try nothing.” He tossed an anxious glance toward Maummi. “Just get me away from this woman.”

“Quiet, you.” From his perch in Maummi’s rocking chair, Jesse growled his warning at the kidnapper. “Your word is worth less than your spit.”

Maummi paused in the act of stepping to the ground, her hand on Emma’s shoulder. She spoke calmly to Lester. “Die Ruchlosen verachten Weisheit und Zucht.”

“Did you hear that?” Lester’s shout toward McCann held a touch of desperation. “She never dries up! I don’t even know what that means.”

Rebecca arrived, reining her horse to a stop and swinging to the ground with ease. “I can tell you. I hear it all the time. It means only fools hate wisdom and instruction. It’s from Die Bibel.”

“She’s calling me a fool?”

Jesse growled. “You are a fool. Now have some respect and shut your piehole before I shut it for you.”

Vic rode up then and took charge of Emma’s and Rebecca’s horses. He would switch their saddles to fresh mounts before the afternoon march began. McCann put out the fresh water barrel, and the girls quenched their parched throats with a lukewarm drink. At least it was wet.

When Emma finished wiping her hot face with a dampened edge of her apron—which was in a shocking state but better than nothing—Luke approached from the direction of the remuda, Papa by his side. He walked up to Emma, his smile as refreshing as a cooling rain.

“Ready?”

Rebecca lowered her cup from wet lips. “Ready for what?”

The answer fluttered in Emma’s throat, and she found she couldn’t look Luke in the face without giving in to a flush that hovered in the vicinity of her collarbone. “Luke has agreed to teach me how to throw a rope.” She glanced at Papa. “If it’s okay.”

Rebecca rose up on her toes and bounced. “I want to learn too. Papa, can I?”

The scrutiny of Papa’s gaze made Emma want to look away. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and stared calmly back at him, careful to keep her gaze clear of guile.

He gave the barest of nods. “Perhaps I may learn as well.”

Luke cast a quick glance at her, and she saw understanding in his gaze. He’d reached the same conclusion as she. They both had hoped for time alone. Papa didn’t care a thing about learning to lasso a cow. He merely wanted to stay close while his daughter was in the company of an oh-so-appealing Englisch cowboy.

Feeling a tiny bit thwarted, Emma managed a small smile. This was the very reason Amish youth kept their romantic intentions to themselves.

“All right, then.” If Luke’s smile looked a little insincere, at least he covered it with an enthusiastic tone. “Let’s go to the other side of the wagon, where there’s a couple of good-sized stumps we can practice on.” He turned his head and raised his voice to be heard by those in the vicinity. “Anybody have a lariat we can borrow? We’re going to do a little practicing.”

“This I gotta see.” Jesse’s voice from the back of the wagon hinted skepticism.

Griff approached Emma with a grin and a coiled length of rope. “Show ’em what you can do, gal.”

He crossed over to the wagon, sat, and pushed his hat back off his forehead, looking as though he was waiting for a show to start. Others did the same, and before long everyone in the vicinity was scattered around the area, their gazes trained on the roping lesson. The flutter in Emma’s stomach erupted into full-blown nerves. This was not how she’d envisioned her personal lesson with Luke progressing.

When Papa and Rebecca both held borrowed ropes as well, Luke walked them a little ways off. The area was free of trees, though several dead stumps rose out of the sagebrush-covered ground, as though a storm had sheared a thicket in years past. Luke took up the end of his coiled rope and held it up. The end formed a ring.

“This is called the honda,” he explained. “Uncoil a few feet of rope and slip it through the honda to form a loop, like this.”

Emma mimicked his actions and adjusted her loop until it was the same size as Luke’s. It looked like a giant noose. Beside her, Rebecca and Papa did likewise.

Luke eyed all three and nodded. “Good. Now, leave yourself a few feet of free rope. You’ll need it when you start swinging. What you’re going to do is swing the lariat over your head a few times until you get a good feel for the rope and where it’s going.”

He demonstrated as he spoke. He raised the loop above his head and swung it around from right to left, the other hand holding several feet of loose rope and the coils looped over his arm. “Keep your wrist loose and let it do the work. It should swing like a wheel going around and around above your head.”

The loop grew larger as he swung, and it opened up, like a wide, yawning mouth.

“It’s taking a long time,” said Rebecca. “If you were doing this for real, hasn’t the cow already run away by now?”

Someone behind them snorted, and Luke grinned. “Once you get the feel for your rope, you won’t have to swing it so much. But for now we’re taking our time, making sure we have control.” The lariat continued to circle above his head as he spoke. “Don’t forget to keep an eye on your target. I’m looking at the stump on your right. When you’re ready—”

He took a quick step forward and released the rope. The loop sailed through the air without losing its circular form, pulling a couple of coils of rope off his arm like a tail, and landed neatly around the gnarly stump. He stepped back and pulled the rope. The noose tightened around the stump with a snap.

Applause and cheers broke out from their audience.

“Not bad, Luke,” Jesse called. “Maybe you could get a job as a cattle wrangler someday.”

The jab was met with good-natured laughter. Emma tried to ignore their audience, which had grown to include almost the entire outfit. Was she about to make a fool of herself again? Well, if she did, at least she’d have Rebecca and Papa as fellow buffoons this time.

“All right, who wants to go first?” Luke looked directly at her, but Papa stepped forward.

“I will.”

“Fine.” Luke gestured for Emma and Rebecca to step back. “Give him some room, ladies. Okay, Jonas, now grab the loop about a foot or so away from the honda. Give yourself plenty of loose rope in the other hand. Looks good.” Luke backed away. “Start swinging.”

Papa raised his hand, and the noose began to circle in the air above his head. Within a few swings it opened up like Luke’s.

“Good job, Jonas.” A note of surprise filled Luke’s voice. “Now get the feel of the rope and let it swing until you’re—”

Before he finished speaking, Papa let loose his rope. The loop sailed through the air and landed half-on and half-off the stump. He gave the excess a jerk, and the noose tightened and held.

“Papa, you lassoed a stump!” Rebecca’s squeal joined the applause of the group behind them while Luke stared.

He recovered himself. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, Jonas?”

Recoiling the rope carefully around his arm, Papa lifted a shoulder. “Once or twice.”

“Uh-huh.” After a slap on the back, Luke pointed. “You can go over there and pick another stump to practice on. This one is for beginners.”

Papa stepped back but didn’t move away. Apparently he wasn’t about to let the lesson continue without his watchful eye.

“Who’s next?”

Luke glanced at Emma, but before she could speak Rebecca ran forward to take the spot Papa had vacated.

“I am. Show me one more time.”

Under the guise of watching the lesson, Emma was free to stare at Luke all she wanted. He’d taken off his hat, and the breeze ruffled through the waves of his hair. The sun had tanned his skin to a warm shade that made his dark eyes stand out. When he raised his arm above his head to demonstrate, the fabric of his shirt stretched across muscles strengthened from years of hard work on the trail. And his hands, the very ones that had circled her waist—

With a start, Emma jerked her mind away from that trail. Perhaps there was nothing wrong in looking, but the Lord surely wouldn’t approve of thoughts that lingered on touching.

“Good, Rebecca.” He took a step backward to give her room. “Now swing the loop above your head, right to left.”

Rebecca raised her arm and swung, with little effect. Instead of rising into the air, the limp rope circled her body. Frustrated, she dropped her arm to her side with a slap against her leg. “I think this one is broken.”

A guffaw sounded from the direction of their wagon. Jesse.

Luke ignored him. “It’s fine. You just need to put a little more energy into it. Swing harder.”

A sigh came from her lips as she reset her stance and tried again. At first the loop behaved the same, but at Luke’s urging Rebecca increased the speed of her arm. Slowly, the loop opened. Not a perfect circle, as Papa’s had been, but it was at least recognizable as a lariat.

“You’re doing great.” Luke’s approval brought a quick smile to Rebecca’s face, which immediately returned to an expression of fierce concentration as the lariat swung round and round above her head.

His words kindled a fierce desire in Emma to hear the same encouragement. She watched her sister, noting the placement of her feet and the speed of her swing.

“Move your arm a tiny bit and feel the rope react.”

“I feel it.” Rebecca’s head faced toward the stump, but her eyes turned upward and circled with the rope.

“Focus on your target,” Luke said. “When you’re ready, release the noose as it swings forward. Drop your wrist down and then let your palm swing open.”

She did so, and the noose went flying through the air. It hit the ground at least ten feet short of the stump.

Rebecca’s lower lip protruded. “I missed.”

“But that was a good try!” No one could doubt the sincere enthusiasm of Luke’s praise. “That’s one of the best first throws I’ve ever seen. It took Jesse a week to get that close to the target when he was learning.”

“Hey!” Jesse yelled, protesting from his chair. “I was six years old.”

“Yeah?” Charlie’s shout was tinged with laughter. “So what’s your excuse for missing that calf last week?”

Several others joined in the teasing.

Jesse took the ribbing with good humor. “You wait till this leg of mine heals. Then we’ll see who can out-rope any man in this outfit.”

Nerves skipped across Emma’s muscles, leaving them tense and her stomach uneasy. She watched closely as Rebecca threw four more times, each time her aim improving and her rope coming closer to her target. Her sister had always been the more active of the two, even besting boys in games and races. What if Emma couldn’t manage to do as well? Her little sister would show her up in front of Luke and everyone else.

After a few tries, Luke said, “You’re trained, Rebecca. All you need is practice. Go on over there and pick out a stump of your own.”

When she ran off with the coiled rope draped over her arm, he raised his eyes to Emma. “Your turn.”

She couldn’t manage to force a sound out of her tight throat, so she nodded. Feet dragging in the dust, she made her way to stand in the place her sister and father had taken. This was supposed to be fun, wasn’t it? Why did her stomach churn as though she might be sick?

Luke’s smile calmed her nerves a bit. She managed to return it as she positioned herself the way the others had.

He examined her stance. “Place your feet a little farther apart, about the width of your shoulders, and one slightly in front of the other.” His hands on her arms as he positioned her sent her nerves dancing again. She ignored them and tried to concentrate on following directions.

“You have your noose, right?”

Swallowing, she nodded and held it up for inspection.

“Hold it right about here.”

He slid her right hand into position. The shock of the skin-on-skin contact almost made her drop the rope, and she found she couldn’t quite look him in the eye. Did he feel that too?

“Good. Now, let out about six feet of rope off the coil. For a reference, that’s about how tall I am.”

Though he no doubt meant to be helpful, her thoughts were momentarily pulled off task as she took in his height. Standing next to him like this, the top of her head came at nose level to him.

Focus, Emma!

“That’s right. You’re ready to start swinging.”

When he’d stepped back, she raised her arm and swung the rope. “Like this?”

“No, swing it the other way. From right to left.”

She dropped her arm too fast. The momentum of the rope continued, and circled once around her neck. The end of the loop caught her in the face.

“Ow!” She couldn’t help gasping at the stinging slap.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s concerned eyes scanned her face. “That’s gonna raise a welt.”

Terrific.

She managed a smile. “I’m fine. Let me try again.”

As he backed away once more, she untangled the rope from her neck and recoiled it around her arm. She checked the size of her loop and grabbed it in the same place he had instructed. This time when she raised her arm, she swung the rope right to left, the way he said. The rope whirled above her head.

“You got it.” Luke’s encouragement heartened her. “Swing a little faster.”

She did as instructed. The loop failed to open, stubbornly remaining shut. She might as well have been swinging a clothesline over her head.

“Your wrist is locked, Emma. Loosen it up.” Luke’s voice, raised enough to cover the distance between them, sounded every bit as patient as it had a moment before. Why, then, did she feel like an unteachable dunce?

Rebecca’s shriek of success pierced the air. “I did it! Look, Luke. I lassoed my stump!”

The watching men responded with applause and whoops of congratulations. Luke turned to award her a big grin. Emma let her rope drop again, but this time she released the other side and covered her face with her hand. One welt was too many already. As the rope lost momentum, it wrapped around her body.

Wonderful. I’ve managed to hog-tie myself.

The expression on Luke’s face when he turned from Rebecca back to her was carefully clear of pity. She flushed hotly. The complete lack of visible emotion said it all. Behind her, the audience fell silent. The fact that they didn’t laugh at her expense was probably meant kindly, but their silence was even more humiliating than their jokes.

“I guess I’m better at cooking and sewing than roping stumps.” Her gaze avoided his face as she unwound the rope from her body.

“It takes practice.” He took a step forward to help her recoil the rope. “Come on. Try it one more time.”

Giving up and slinking off to nurse her embarrassment alone sounded like a much better option, but Emma bit back a sigh and repositioned her feet.

“That’s good. Take hold of the noose here.”

When he positioned her hand this time she was too miserable to feel a single tingle. She did as instructed, gripped the rope in exactly the right place, and when he stepped back she swung the loop up above her head, right to left. Her wrist was loose. Her body swayed slightly on her feet in motion with the circling rope.

“That’s it! You’ve got it going.”

Griff and Jesse and the others echoed Luke’s cheer. Emma risked a quick upward glance and saw that her loop had, indeed, begun to open up. Not a wide circle like Luke’s, but sort of a long oval in the shape of a giant cucumber. She increased the pace of her arm, remembering to keep her wrist loose, and the cucumber became a watermelon.

“Good,” Luke shouted. “Can you feel how your movements affect the lariat?”

“Yes, I feel it.” She focused more on making her wrist work like the axle of a wagon and the lariat the turning wheel.

The watermelon became a pumpkin.

“Now look at your target. Take aim, and when you’re ready, you’ll release the lariat when it swings around to the front. Keep your movements smooth. Have you got your eye on your target?”

A movement a little ways beyond the stump drew Emma’s attention. A line of steers wandered past on their way to the watering hole. An idea took shape and bloomed in an instant. Leave the stumps to Rebecca. She would lasso a cow.

An oblivious steer stopped and lowered its head to tear up a mouthful of grass.

“Yes,” she shouted back to Luke. “I see my target.”

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready, let her fly.”

She did. The release wasn’t quite as smooth as she planned, but at least the lariat sailed through the air and didn’t slap her in the face. The pumpkin shriveled back into a cucumber, and the long loop wavered unsteadily before dropping toward the ground.

When it landed, Emma could hardly believe her eyes. The loop had managed to snag on the point of one long steer horn. Startled, the animal raised his head, and the rope slid all the way over the horn.

With a shriek of victory, Emma pulled the rope tight. She turned her head to grin at Luke.

In the next moment she was jerked off her feet. Instinctively, she grasped onto the rope and was pulled face first across the ground as the startled steer took off in a run.

“Emma!”

Luke’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her, but she couldn’t look back at him. Her eyes squeezed tight as she was dragged across tall grass and prickly sagebrush bushes. She was dimly aware of other voices joining Luke’s—Rebecca’s and Papa’s—and farther away, Jesse’s and Griff ’s.

Her body sailed over dips and ripples in the land like a stone skipping across a pond. Her shoulders felt as if they had been pulled from their sockets with every ditch. The shouts behind her persisted, and she managed a backward glimpse.

A parade of people ran after her. In the lead, Luke’s face shone blood-red, and his hands cupped his mouth as he shouted. Behind him, Rebecca had gathered her skirts above her knees and seemed intent on proving that she could still outrun the boys. Papa was close behind Rebecca, and Charlie brought up the rear. Every mouth was open as they screamed in her direction.

Finally, Luke’s voice rose above the chaos, and she heard what he was saying.

“Let go of the rope! Let go!”

Until that moment, she had not realized that she still clutched the rope in a death grip. Well, of course. What a dunce.

She let go with her left hand first, and dropped her arm behind her back. When she’d freed herself from the coil of rope, she released her right hand. Her wild ride across the prairie ended abruptly, with her face planted in sagebrush.

Luke caught up with her first. She found herself being lifted off the ground by strong hands, and in the next instant her body was turned and crushed to his. His arms encircled her with such force she couldn’t manage to get air into her lungs.

She didn’t care in the least.

“Emma!” She heard his voice break. He relaxed his hold and held her at arm’s length. “You scared the dickens out of me! You could have been killed.” His eyes moved as he searched her face. “Are you okay?”

Okay? Well, mostly yes, except for her head ringing from his embrace. She took a quick inventory. Her hands stung from where the rope had burned them. Her shoulders ached. Where was her apron? Gone somewhere. Grass and dirt and even sticks clung to her dress, and a large rip along the side seam showed that Papa’s trousers would need to be mended as well. Her face stung as though she’d scrubbed it with a thorny rosebush. But all her bones appeared to be in one piece.

“I’m not hurt,” she said as Rebecca arrived, followed shortly by Papa, huffing and puffing and scanning her head to toe for signs of injury.

A huge sense of victory welled up inside her as Charlie arrived. She grinned at Rebecca, and then she turned a look of triumph on Luke.

“I lassoed a cow.” She didn’t bother to filter the pride out of her voice.

Luke grinned, and Emma’s heart twisted in response. “Yes, you did. But your technique needs a little work before you try that again, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, and then she allowed him to lead her back to the wagon.

At least she’d proven she wasn’t a complete fool.