“Yeah, well you’re irritating me, too. Riding close enough to talk means legs are going to brush occasionally. That’s all it means.”
“Good, I’m glad you understand that.” She hoped he didn’t think the light reflecting on her cheeks was a blush. “Why did you quote that line about love being a sickness?”
“No reason,” he said shortly. “It just came to mind.”
“Well, the fellow who said it was right.” She didn’t try to repeat the quote because memorizing lines wasn’t her strong suit, a failing that had driven Maestro Delacroix to despair. But she always got the gist of her lines. “I don’t want to fall into that kind of sickness again.”
“Sounds like you’re a woman of experience,” he said in a light voice. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her.
“Experienced enough,” she answered, tossing her head. She’d enjoyed dozens of flirtations, and once she had mistakenly believed she might be in love. The last experience was too humiliating to dwell on, but she never thought of it without thanking God that she hadn’t succumbed to a man just because he looked good wearing stage tights. “I suppose you’re experienced, too.”
“Experienced enough,” he said, tossing her response back and giving her one of those slow cool smiles that made her thighs tighten and her heart pound.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Freddy said abruptly. She had no idea why she was sitting with him in the middle of the night when she could be in her bedroll grabbing some sleep. Straightening her shoulders, she walked away from him, feeling his gaze on her back.
“Good night,” he called softly, his voice floating toward her. She didn’t answer.
After crawling into her blankets, she folded her arms behind her head and gazed up at a sky milky with stars. Dal had been showing off. Quoting lines about love, singing. Showing her that he was more than just a cowboy and a former drunk.
She wished she could do something to show him that she was more than just an actress with a ruined reputation who wasn’t very good at anything.
When she flounced over on her side, her nose touched a piece of cloth. Sitting up, she lifted the square of material close to see what it was and discovered a new bandanna. Puzzled, she studied the long forms sleeping around her. Who had left this for her?
When she remembered that Luther and Jack had driven into San Antonio today, she turned her face toward their campsite. Luther had agreed that gifts were acceptable and could have explained that fact to Jack, if asked. A glow and the dim outline of a coffeepot above it told her where their fire was, but she saw no movement in the observers’ camp.
Pulling the bandanna through her fingers, she considered what to do. She would have to thank Jack for the small gift or reject it. And that, she realized, was why he had given it to her.
“Ward, please. I can’t continue to miss the noon dinner.” Facing the main camps, Les noticed that some of the drovers had already placed their empty plates in the wreck pan and were lighting cigars. There was no water here, and the herd was restless. They’d move out soon.
Ward’s hand flashed forward and gripped her lower jaw. Anyone watching would think he merely touched her face as a lover might do. They wouldn’t know he squeezed so hard that she couldn’t speak. “What do you and Frisco talk about on night watch? Answer me!”
She clasped his wrist and signaled that he had to release her or she couldn’t talk. “We sing to the cattle… we talk about the day’s events… he tells me things I need to know.” When she saw Ward’s eyes narrow, she added hastily, “like how to ford rivers, that kind of thing!” She was so hungry and tired. “Tonight’s the last night Dal will ride with me. Tomorrow I’m on my own.” And she dreaded the responsibility. “Ward, I have to go. Please.” Dal was frowning at them.
“I don’t understand you, Les. You act like it’s unreasonable for a man to be concerned about his fiancée spending several hours in the middle of the night with another man. You don’t appear to welcome my suggestions as to how you can improve your efficiency. You make it seem like you’d rather be with those people than with me.”
“Ward, the observers’ wagons travel faster than the herd,” she said, trying to hold her voice to a reasonable tone. “You arrive before we do, and you’ve already had your dinner when Freddy and I ride in. We don’t have much time to eat because we’re the last to get here.”
“Your stomach is more important than I am?”