Laurey
Laurey waved at the familiar figure riding towards her, unable to prevent the giggle rising from her throat as he waved back. Curly hopped down from Dunn, and tied the reins to one of the peach trees.
"Jud Fry's gonna be real mad if he catches you."
"What do I care? Ain't even his peach tree."
"S'pose not. S'pose you gotta ask my permission."
He slipped his hand around her waist. "Your highness, may I tie up my horse to this here peach tree?"
"You may, Mr. McLain."
"Why, thank you" he kissed her temple. "Miss me?"
"Maybe a little. Missed your singin'" she confessed. It was harder to hide her feelings for him when he'd been away on a roundup. She always forgot how bothersome he could be when he was gone, and only remembered the sweet things about him.
"Well, I'll just have to come 'round and sing for you some more."
"That'd be alright, I guess. If I've got nothin' better to do than sit around and listen to you."
"Got anythin' better to do now?"
"I don't think so."
Curly sat on the ground and she joined him, glad that her overalls allowed her to do so
"You been okay? Has he been botherin' you lately? Jud, I mean."
"No, it's been…fine" she smiled to make up for the weak choice of words. The last thing she wanted was a fight between Curly and Jud, mostly because she knew Jud would win. And really, it was fine most of the time. She had long ago learned to ignore the looks Jud gave her at the table, the unwavering gaze from under his thick eyebrows. She wasn't sure what he wanted from her, but she knew it was more than she would ever want to give him.
And the feelings she had about him sometimes—well, Aunt Eller had been right to call them hysterical. The cold fear that coursed through her body when she heard him under her window at night, or when he took her by surprise in the house was ridiculous. Even if he did feel a way about her, she ought to be flattered or learn to dismiss him like other girls did with beaus they didn't want.
"That's a relief. Don't like for a man like that to be prowlin' around a girl like you."
"And what's that supposed to mean, a girl like me?" She leaned back on her arms, settling into their familiar conversation pattern of relentless teasing.
"Aw, you know, a girl who's much too little to defend herself."
"Could defend myself from you if I had to."
"If you had to, huh?"
"I reckon I could."
"But would you want to?"
"Maybe. Maybe not, if you was bein' sweet to me."
"Ain't I always sweet to you?"
She shrugged, her eyes traveling involuntarily to the tree that bore their initials on the trunk. She'd begged him to carve their initials there, disguising her pleas as joking, of course. She'd hated to seem needy enough to need a token of affection, but he was just a cowboy and couldn't afford trinkets and such. So, their initials on a tree trunk was the only physical reminder of him that she had when he was away. "Sometimes, I s'pose. But I wanna hear about the round-up! Where'd you go?"
"Just stayed in the Territory, nowhere new."
"I wish you went to round-ups in other places. Like California or New Mexico."
"Why? So you'd be rid of me for longer?"
` "Yeah, that's why" she nudged him with her shoulder. "And so you could tell me about 'em."
"Well," he slipped one hand behind her, moving closer, "we can go to them places together one day. You can see 'em for yourself."
She felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the casual mention of 'one day'. Nothing had been promised, but everyone knew, had known for months, the way things were between them. She'd hated feeling like the only girl her age in The Territory without a sweetheart, but now that she seemed to have one, everything moved too fast. Hand-holding turned into kissing, which turned into talk of 'one day', which meant marriage and babies, no matter what he said about traveling together. It meant a life ahead of her that she knew she should want, but maybe not right then.
"Well, even if you didn't go all the way to California, you can still tell me about the round-up."
He chatted happily about the other men, the stops they'd made, sang her snatches of new songs he'd picked up, and she sat back, basking in his warmth. She supposed if she did have to get married, she could certainly do a lot worse than Curly.