The curtain covering the bedroom window wasn't wide enough to reach all the
way across. By eight in the morning the sun was shining directly onto the
pillow and into Sam's eyes. She had discovered this fact the previous day
when it woke her up.
She smiled and stretched. It was going to be hard going back to work tomorrow. The first day she had simply sat everywhere: outside, in her bedroom, on the corral fence watching the men work with the horses, under the shade trees beside the main house reading a book. Yesterday she'd progressed to walking about the place, asking questions, exploring buildings whose functions were unknown to her and getting to know the workings of the ranch. She'd spent the evening with Lushy, Moll, Alice and Nell, talking about dresses and hairstyles, laughing over the foibles of men and trying not to blush at some of the things they'd told her.
The sun was lingering on the pillow. She sat up out of the glare and hugged her knees. How to spend her last day of holiday?
The cookhouse door banged open. "Miz Flanagan? Boss says you're to come up to the corral soon's you've had breakfast."
"Thanks, Cody. I'll be right there." Nothing like having your decisions made for you, she thought wryly as she pushed back the covers.
The corral was the center of unusual activity. Horses were saddled and a wagon was being loaded with wooden posts, picks and shovels. Marston leaned against the gate speaking to one of the men. He waved her over as she came up.
Her first thought was that he was dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him. Her second was that he had a very nice smile. She ruthlessly suppressed her third thought before it could get started.
"Good morning, Miss Flanagan. Some of the men are going up to the eastern ridge to repair some fencing." Marston pointed to the wagon, which was almost ready. "How would you like to come with us?"
"Yes!" Sam was thrilled. "That is, if I won't be in the way."
"You won't. You'll be with me." He pushed away from the gate. "We'll ride with the men and then keep going. I want to show you some of the country out here."
It was a perfect day for a ride. Not a cloud marred the wide expanse of the sky. She could have lost her seat a dozen times for staring all about her and not paying attention to her horse. Sam and Marston rode ahead of the men in the wagon and left them behind with a wave when they reached the east ridge.
He seemed to know exactly where he was going. They rode past outcrops of rock and clumps of bush until the men were left far behind and Sam lost track of the time. Finally they climbed a bluff and stopped at the top. A creek, swollen with winter rains, cut through the parched red soil below them. A stand of trees joined with the rock to provide shade.
"We'll walk the horses down from here." Marston dismounted and led his horse forward. "It's rather steep for riding them."
They secured their mounts at the bottom of the trail and refreshed themselves with the cool water. The angle of the rock offered refuge from the glaring noon sun.
"This is beautiful country, Mr. Marston." She gazed at the view across the creek. "Blue sky, red earth - who would ever want to live in town if they could live here?"
"I think, when we're alone, we can dispense with the formalities." He sat beside her and leaned back against the rock. "Why don't you call me Elliott.Sam?"
"Thank you, Elliott." She stared fixedly at the creek. "I'd like that." Using his first name came quite easily to her; she realized that she'd been calling him that in her mind for days, if not weeks. "Do you come here often?"
"Not as much as I used to. I find I'm very busy these days." He plucked a long grass and twisted it in his fingers. "Now I just come here on.special occasions."
"What kind of special occasions?" Her voice sounded high to her ears.
"Oh, not any dates in particular. I mean that when I come here," He leaned forward and stroked her hand with the grass. "I like to do special things."
"Like what?" She cleared her throat but still it came out in a whisper.
"Like enjoying the company of a friend." He turned her hand over and began to stroke her palm with the grass. "I thought we could take some time to get to know each other better."
"That -" She swallowed and tried again. "That would be nice."
"It must be worrisome for you, knowing that your father's in town and you haven't heard from him." He continued to play with the grass, caressing her wrist down to the tip of her index finger and back again.
"Yes. I sometimes feel - That is -" She fumbled to a halt. "I mean, you're right, it is worrisome."
He began to stroke her thumb, then sent the grass across her palm down the length of each finger in turn. "Are you very close to him?"
"Yes." The shivers were running up her arm. "After my mother died, it was just the two of us for a long time." A feeling of sadness swept over her. She pulled her hand away from him and hugged herself tightly.
Marston examined the grass stem minutely, twirling it in front of his eyes. "You told me when you arrived that he taught you how to shoot as well as he did."
"Oh, yes. He taught me about guns when I was very young." She smiled at a sudden memory. "Rifles were hard until a few years ago but six-shooters I could handle when I was ten or twelve."
"Really." He sounded bored. Glancing up, she found that he was sitting even closer than before. The look in his eyes definitely wasn't boredom. She blinked in surprise and quickly looked down again.
"You know, Sam.it's such a nice day.and the horses are tired." His voice was soft and husky. "It occurs to me that we could do something that would make this day really.special.if you wanted to."
"How.special? I mean, how would we make it.?" Her voice trailed off.
He smiled. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled back.
****************************************
Toby, Ned, Frank and Jack waited by the wagon for some time after they'd finished their work. The noon sun was high in the sky. Marston had not given any clear instructions about their return but they assumed that they would all go back together. As the afternoon wore on, Toby decided to set out in pursuit of the wandering pair.
The bluff overlooking the creek was in sight when he heard the first shots. There was a fusillade of noise, then a pause, then the shots started again. He froze, then ran forward, fumbling with his holster. Finally pulling his gun free, he dropped to the ground and peered over the rocky edge.
"Well, I'll be dipped!" He blinked. "I'll be double-dipped!"
Marston and Sam were standing by the creek. Each had a six-shooter in hand. Across the water and standing on the horizon was a stick with a tin can on top of it. First one, then the other, would take careful aim at the can and fire at it. Most of the time the bullet would hit it and a tinny "ping" would echo the sound of the shot. Rarely the bullet would whine away without hitting anything.
While reaching back to retrieve more bullets from a box on the ground, Marston saw his foreman above them. "All finished?" He looked at Sam with regret. "It looks like we've got to head back." He tossed the bullets back in the box.
Sam laughed and handed him her gun. "Thank you. I really enjoyed myself." She smiled at him. "Mr. Marston."
"You're welcome." He grinned back at her. "Miss Flanagan."
She smiled and stretched. It was going to be hard going back to work tomorrow. The first day she had simply sat everywhere: outside, in her bedroom, on the corral fence watching the men work with the horses, under the shade trees beside the main house reading a book. Yesterday she'd progressed to walking about the place, asking questions, exploring buildings whose functions were unknown to her and getting to know the workings of the ranch. She'd spent the evening with Lushy, Moll, Alice and Nell, talking about dresses and hairstyles, laughing over the foibles of men and trying not to blush at some of the things they'd told her.
The sun was lingering on the pillow. She sat up out of the glare and hugged her knees. How to spend her last day of holiday?
The cookhouse door banged open. "Miz Flanagan? Boss says you're to come up to the corral soon's you've had breakfast."
"Thanks, Cody. I'll be right there." Nothing like having your decisions made for you, she thought wryly as she pushed back the covers.
The corral was the center of unusual activity. Horses were saddled and a wagon was being loaded with wooden posts, picks and shovels. Marston leaned against the gate speaking to one of the men. He waved her over as she came up.
Her first thought was that he was dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him. Her second was that he had a very nice smile. She ruthlessly suppressed her third thought before it could get started.
"Good morning, Miss Flanagan. Some of the men are going up to the eastern ridge to repair some fencing." Marston pointed to the wagon, which was almost ready. "How would you like to come with us?"
"Yes!" Sam was thrilled. "That is, if I won't be in the way."
"You won't. You'll be with me." He pushed away from the gate. "We'll ride with the men and then keep going. I want to show you some of the country out here."
It was a perfect day for a ride. Not a cloud marred the wide expanse of the sky. She could have lost her seat a dozen times for staring all about her and not paying attention to her horse. Sam and Marston rode ahead of the men in the wagon and left them behind with a wave when they reached the east ridge.
He seemed to know exactly where he was going. They rode past outcrops of rock and clumps of bush until the men were left far behind and Sam lost track of the time. Finally they climbed a bluff and stopped at the top. A creek, swollen with winter rains, cut through the parched red soil below them. A stand of trees joined with the rock to provide shade.
"We'll walk the horses down from here." Marston dismounted and led his horse forward. "It's rather steep for riding them."
They secured their mounts at the bottom of the trail and refreshed themselves with the cool water. The angle of the rock offered refuge from the glaring noon sun.
"This is beautiful country, Mr. Marston." She gazed at the view across the creek. "Blue sky, red earth - who would ever want to live in town if they could live here?"
"I think, when we're alone, we can dispense with the formalities." He sat beside her and leaned back against the rock. "Why don't you call me Elliott.Sam?"
"Thank you, Elliott." She stared fixedly at the creek. "I'd like that." Using his first name came quite easily to her; she realized that she'd been calling him that in her mind for days, if not weeks. "Do you come here often?"
"Not as much as I used to. I find I'm very busy these days." He plucked a long grass and twisted it in his fingers. "Now I just come here on.special occasions."
"What kind of special occasions?" Her voice sounded high to her ears.
"Oh, not any dates in particular. I mean that when I come here," He leaned forward and stroked her hand with the grass. "I like to do special things."
"Like what?" She cleared her throat but still it came out in a whisper.
"Like enjoying the company of a friend." He turned her hand over and began to stroke her palm with the grass. "I thought we could take some time to get to know each other better."
"That -" She swallowed and tried again. "That would be nice."
"It must be worrisome for you, knowing that your father's in town and you haven't heard from him." He continued to play with the grass, caressing her wrist down to the tip of her index finger and back again.
"Yes. I sometimes feel - That is -" She fumbled to a halt. "I mean, you're right, it is worrisome."
He began to stroke her thumb, then sent the grass across her palm down the length of each finger in turn. "Are you very close to him?"
"Yes." The shivers were running up her arm. "After my mother died, it was just the two of us for a long time." A feeling of sadness swept over her. She pulled her hand away from him and hugged herself tightly.
Marston examined the grass stem minutely, twirling it in front of his eyes. "You told me when you arrived that he taught you how to shoot as well as he did."
"Oh, yes. He taught me about guns when I was very young." She smiled at a sudden memory. "Rifles were hard until a few years ago but six-shooters I could handle when I was ten or twelve."
"Really." He sounded bored. Glancing up, she found that he was sitting even closer than before. The look in his eyes definitely wasn't boredom. She blinked in surprise and quickly looked down again.
"You know, Sam.it's such a nice day.and the horses are tired." His voice was soft and husky. "It occurs to me that we could do something that would make this day really.special.if you wanted to."
"How.special? I mean, how would we make it.?" Her voice trailed off.
He smiled. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled back.
****************************************
Toby, Ned, Frank and Jack waited by the wagon for some time after they'd finished their work. The noon sun was high in the sky. Marston had not given any clear instructions about their return but they assumed that they would all go back together. As the afternoon wore on, Toby decided to set out in pursuit of the wandering pair.
The bluff overlooking the creek was in sight when he heard the first shots. There was a fusillade of noise, then a pause, then the shots started again. He froze, then ran forward, fumbling with his holster. Finally pulling his gun free, he dropped to the ground and peered over the rocky edge.
"Well, I'll be dipped!" He blinked. "I'll be double-dipped!"
Marston and Sam were standing by the creek. Each had a six-shooter in hand. Across the water and standing on the horizon was a stick with a tin can on top of it. First one, then the other, would take careful aim at the can and fire at it. Most of the time the bullet would hit it and a tinny "ping" would echo the sound of the shot. Rarely the bullet would whine away without hitting anything.
While reaching back to retrieve more bullets from a box on the ground, Marston saw his foreman above them. "All finished?" He looked at Sam with regret. "It looks like we've got to head back." He tossed the bullets back in the box.
Sam laughed and handed him her gun. "Thank you. I really enjoyed myself." She smiled at him. "Mr. Marston."
"You're welcome." He grinned back at her. "Miss Flanagan."