softly. “Nothing, ma’am. I just wanted to ride out and express my sympathies. I know you’re all alone out here now, and I was concerned. How are you making out?”
“I’m getting by,” she said, glancing at her blistered palms. “I’m planting a garden.”
“That’s a good idea.” He ran a finger around his stiff shirt collar and twisted his neck away from the fabric. “It’s sort of warm today, isn’t it?”
“Would you like a cool drink of water before you head back to town?” She hadn’t meant to be rude, but she could tell he was offended by her abrupt dismissal. “I mean, I know you’re a busy man. It was nice of you to ride out here, but I’m managing.”
“Yes, I can see you are. You’re a resourceful woman.” He dipped his head in a slow nod. “I’d like that drink, Miss Cassandra.”
“I’ll fetch it.” She hurried into the cabin, grateful for something to do besides standing around and trying to talk to a man she hardly knew. Taking time to pull on her boots, she cast a nervous glance at the bedroom door and then went back outside with a dipper of water. Boone was sitting on the porch, twirling his hat between his hands. “Here you go.” She extended the dipper toward him.
“Much obliged, ma’am.” He drank from it, then patted the wooden porch. “Why don’t you sit a spell? You’ve been working since sunup, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” She ran her hands down her skirt, wondering if she should sit near him. When he lifted one flame-colored brow, she shrugged and sat down a good foot from him. Her legs dangled over the edge of the porch and she wiggled her feet, flexing her ankles and calves. “How’s your family getting along?” she asked after awhile.
“Just fine, thank you.” He angled a glance at her. “How old are you, Miss Cassandra?”
She stared straight ahead, unsure if she should answer. Where’s the harm? she asked herself. “I’m nineteen. I’ll be twenty come June.” She turned her head swiftly to confront him. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” he answered smoothly. “A little olderand a little wiser than you.” He withdrew a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his freckled brow before folding it carefully and replacing it.
He was dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt, and a dark jacket. His matching vest was made from some kind of shiny material, satin maybe, and a gold chain disappeared into a watch pocket. His shoes were store bought and highly polished. A banker’s son, Cassie thought. Used to fine things and plenty of money. She looked down at her own wrinkled dress, smudged with dirt from the garden, and her scratched, scuffed boots. He must think she looked like a rag mop!
“I liked Shorty,” Boone said, placing his hands on either side of his knees. “He was one fine fellow. What did he ever do with that mine of his?”
“Nothing much.” Cassie lifted one shoulder. “Everybody knows there’s nothing in it but rock and dirt.” The mine was something she didn’t want to discuss, especially with Boone Rutledge. She’d never exchanged more than a few words with him in the past.
“That’s about all he talked of,” Boone said, swinging his legs back and forth. “That and you, of course.” He leaned over to peer up into her face. “You know what, Miss Cassandra?”
“What?” she asked, lifting one hand to discourage a bee that had flown too close to her face.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “I hope you won’t take this wrong, but you’ve grown into a lovely young woman.”
Warm color flooded her face and she jerked back as if he’d stung her. “Wh-what?”
“Yes, a lovely young woman,” Boone repeated. “Men will be lining up to court you soon.”
“No …” Cassie shook her head and slipped off the edge of the porch to her feet. “I don’t have time for that.”
“Yes, I know you must be busy.” He moved to stand directly in front of her, blocking any
“I’m getting by,” she said, glancing at her blistered palms. “I’m planting a garden.”
“That’s a good idea.” He ran a finger around his stiff shirt collar and twisted his neck away from the fabric. “It’s sort of warm today, isn’t it?”
“Would you like a cool drink of water before you head back to town?” She hadn’t meant to be rude, but she could tell he was offended by her abrupt dismissal. “I mean, I know you’re a busy man. It was nice of you to ride out here, but I’m managing.”
“Yes, I can see you are. You’re a resourceful woman.” He dipped his head in a slow nod. “I’d like that drink, Miss Cassandra.”
“I’ll fetch it.” She hurried into the cabin, grateful for something to do besides standing around and trying to talk to a man she hardly knew. Taking time to pull on her boots, she cast a nervous glance at the bedroom door and then went back outside with a dipper of water. Boone was sitting on the porch, twirling his hat between his hands. “Here you go.” She extended the dipper toward him.
“Much obliged, ma’am.” He drank from it, then patted the wooden porch. “Why don’t you sit a spell? You’ve been working since sunup, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” She ran her hands down her skirt, wondering if she should sit near him. When he lifted one flame-colored brow, she shrugged and sat down a good foot from him. Her legs dangled over the edge of the porch and she wiggled her feet, flexing her ankles and calves. “How’s your family getting along?” she asked after awhile.
“Just fine, thank you.” He angled a glance at her. “How old are you, Miss Cassandra?”
She stared straight ahead, unsure if she should answer. Where’s the harm? she asked herself. “I’m nineteen. I’ll be twenty come June.” She turned her head swiftly to confront him. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” he answered smoothly. “A little olderand a little wiser than you.” He withdrew a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his freckled brow before folding it carefully and replacing it.
He was dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt, and a dark jacket. His matching vest was made from some kind of shiny material, satin maybe, and a gold chain disappeared into a watch pocket. His shoes were store bought and highly polished. A banker’s son, Cassie thought. Used to fine things and plenty of money. She looked down at her own wrinkled dress, smudged with dirt from the garden, and her scratched, scuffed boots. He must think she looked like a rag mop!
“I liked Shorty,” Boone said, placing his hands on either side of his knees. “He was one fine fellow. What did he ever do with that mine of his?”
“Nothing much.” Cassie lifted one shoulder. “Everybody knows there’s nothing in it but rock and dirt.” The mine was something she didn’t want to discuss, especially with Boone Rutledge. She’d never exchanged more than a few words with him in the past.
“That’s about all he talked of,” Boone said, swinging his legs back and forth. “That and you, of course.” He leaned over to peer up into her face. “You know what, Miss Cassandra?”
“What?” she asked, lifting one hand to discourage a bee that had flown too close to her face.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “I hope you won’t take this wrong, but you’ve grown into a lovely young woman.”
Warm color flooded her face and she jerked back as if he’d stung her. “Wh-what?”
“Yes, a lovely young woman,” Boone repeated. “Men will be lining up to court you soon.”
“No …” Cassie shook her head and slipped off the edge of the porch to her feet. “I don’t have time for that.”
“Yes, I know you must be busy.” He moved to stand directly in front of her, blocking any
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