He watched Freddy and Les riding toward the drag, felt Alex’s hand in his. It was one of the worst moments in his life.
Needing some time alone, he rode out on the range where he could see the herd beginning to move out, and he dropped his head and rubbed a hand down his face.
Like the gracious, honorable women they were, each of the sisters had offered him a word or a touch of comfort. They hadn’t wept, hadn’t blamed. They hid their despair and accepted their defeat with grace. He hoped Joe Roark was watching today, and he hoped the bastard was proud of the strong fine women he’d raised. Sons could not have done better than his daughters had done, couldn’t have worked harder or given more.
Raging inside, he lashed his reins across the buckskin and cantered toward the river. The crossing proceeded as smooth as glass, and they didn’t lose a single beeve.
It didn’t matter anymore.
In the following days, they forded the Salt Fork and Pond Creek, passed large colonies of prairie dogs, and once they had to hold the longhorns while a herd of buffalo ran west across the trail. Tomorrow they would enter Kansas below Bluff Creek and Fall Creek.
“Are we finished with Indians?” Les asked Grady as she pulled her saddle off Cactus.
“Might see some Osage, but mostly they’ll ask for tobacco. Sometimes they’ll beg a steer, but mostly the Osage got more pride than those thieving Comanche.” He spit in disgust.
“If they need the meat, we might as well give them a beeve or two.” Now that the cattle were Lola’s, she could be generous. The thought raised a bitter smile.
“Well, gol-dang. Look what’s coming your way, Missy.”
Les placed her saddle on the ground, then stood up, rubbing her hands on her trousers.
Luther strode toward her with a grimly determined expression and a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand. But it was a Luther that Les hadn’t seen before. His hair was slicked back with oil, he was clean-shaven, and he wore a dark suit, vest, and tie. His hat was brushed and his boots polished.
“A man don’t get all slickered up like that unless he’s coming a-courting,” Grady said. “You got to ask yourself if that’s the worst sunburn you ever seen, or if he’s feeling mighty nervous.”
“Go away,” Les said, feeling nervous herself. She had hoped he would come to her, but she’d begun to think it wouldn’t happen. “Help Alex or cut some firewood but go away.” She had time to knock the dust off her pants and smooth her hair before he reached her.
“Here.” Removing his hat, Luther thrust out the wildflowers. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” As far as she knew, there wasn’t a vase within twenty miles of camp. “You look very nice tonight.” Her comment brightened the red pulsing on top of his ears.
“So do you,” he said, looking at her.
Les doubted it. She was dusty, sweat-stained, and sunburned. She needed a bath and a hair wash. This moment would have been better if she’d been wearing a nice dress with her hair curled and a tiny packet of violet sachet pinned inside her corset. Instead, she wore a sun-faded shirt with a hole at the elbow and pants smeared across the thigh with horse slobber.
Luther pulled at his collar. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for a short stroll before supper? There’s a prairie-dog town not far from here which you might find entertaining.”
He was so Sunday perfect while she smelled of horseflesh and cowhide and a day’s labor. At least she could wash her face and hands. “Would you give me a moment first?”
He looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I… of course you need to think about this. I should have inquired before I… damn, I’m no good at this.” He started to back away. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to impose.”
Instinct warned that Luther would approach once and once only, and that it had taken enormous courage to bring him this far. If she let him walk away, he would not return.
“Luther…” Crimson rushed into her cheeks as she marshaled her own courage. “I think I have loved you since I was fourteen or fifteen years old.”
“I can see this is an inconvenient…” He stopped and stared at her. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t think you noticed me. I thought you brought me books and talked to me because I was the silly young daughter of your client. You called on Pa, not me. You didn’t dance with me at socials, didn’t invite me for a ride in your buggy.” Stepping up to him, she tucked her arm through his and turned him toward the prairie-dog village. He looked dazed. She was a little dazed herself. “So I stopped hoping you might be a suitor, stopped thinking about you.”