Read Online Merline Lovelace by The Colonel's Daughter - Free Book Online
Authors: The Colonel's Daughter
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the fire. That done, she mixed a little water into the coarse-ground grain and shaped the lumpy dough into thick cakes.
The woman was one surprise after another, and Jack didn’t particularly like surprises.
“Where did you learn to cook over a campfire, Miss… ” He caught himself. “Suzanne.”
The smile she sent him near about lit up the night. He gripped the tin cup so hard he felt the thin metal crease under his fingers.
“As I told Matt earlier, my stepfather is a cavalry officer. He made sure my brother and I learned all manner of necessary skills. Some,” she confessed with a grin, “I had to un-learn when I went back East to school. My teachers almost fainted dead away when I demonstrated to the other students how well-dried cow dung burns in a kitchen stove.”
Jack buried his face in his cup. He didn’t want her to see the smile that tugged at his mouth. He wasn’t ready to let down the barriers separating him from this prickly, contrary, fascinating female. Couldn’t let down the barriers, he reminded himself grimly. Surging to his feet, he tossed out the dregs of his coffee.
She glanced up at the abrupt movement. Smoke from the frying dough wreathed her face. The heat had put a flush in her cheeks. Long, straggling tendrils had escaped her untidy bun to curl over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark and luminous in the firelight.
Walk away! his mind shouted. Make dust. Now, while you still can.
Her voice drifted to him across the crackling fire, calm and steady as a tall oak in a storm. “The johnnycakes are browning up nicely.”
Ride out. Tonight. Leave her here with the boy. She’ll find her way.
“We’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes.”
He swore a silent, savage oath. Knew damned well she’d keep on his tail whether he wanted her there or not.
“I’ll take you as far as Rawhide Buttes tomorrow. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Very well.”
At least she had sense enough not to crow. Jack gave her marks for that.
“You’d better douse your fire and retrieve your horse,” she suggested with a poke at the johnnycakes. “I’ll have supper dished up by the time you get back.”
6
T he following day, Jack ate Suzanne’s dust most of the way to Rawhide Buttes.
She rode astride, as loose-backed as any cavalry trooper, skirts flapping at her calves. If the length of silk stocking showing above her borrowed boots flustered her, she sure didn’t let on. She’d plucked the quail feathers off her hat and bent down the brim to shield her eyes. She’d shed her bustle, too. The rucked-up fabric at the back of her skirt sagged without the wire cage. Although the sun didn’t burn with quite the same intensity it had the past few days, it generated enough heat for her to shed her jacket, tie it behind her on the saddle and undo the top few buttons of her high-necked blouse.
Yesterday, Jack would have bet his last dollar that the dainty miss seated across from him on the stage would suffocate before she’d shed any of herfancy outer layers. It bothered him that he’d read her so wrong. The glimpses he caught of the long neck and creamy skin now exposed to the breeze bothered him even more.
Deliberately, he dropped back. No sense torturing himself. Not that viewing her backside was any easier on him than viewing her front. She’d given up trying to bundle her honey-brown hair and left it down, tied back out of the way with a rawhide thong from her saddle. The long, curling tail fell down her back and swished when she moved, just like a mare’s. And just like a stallion on the scent of a rut, Jack couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
It didn’t help that young Matt Butts appeared just as taken with the woman.
“Best not to think what you’re thinking, kid.”
The hog farmer wrenched his gaze away from Suzanne’s legs. Cheeks crimson, he mumbled that he wasn’t thinking nothing. Jack knew better. His own thoughts weren’t the sort a man could take into church with
The woman was one surprise after another, and Jack didn’t particularly like surprises.
“Where did you learn to cook over a campfire, Miss… ” He caught himself. “Suzanne.”
The smile she sent him near about lit up the night. He gripped the tin cup so hard he felt the thin metal crease under his fingers.
“As I told Matt earlier, my stepfather is a cavalry officer. He made sure my brother and I learned all manner of necessary skills. Some,” she confessed with a grin, “I had to un-learn when I went back East to school. My teachers almost fainted dead away when I demonstrated to the other students how well-dried cow dung burns in a kitchen stove.”
Jack buried his face in his cup. He didn’t want her to see the smile that tugged at his mouth. He wasn’t ready to let down the barriers separating him from this prickly, contrary, fascinating female. Couldn’t let down the barriers, he reminded himself grimly. Surging to his feet, he tossed out the dregs of his coffee.
She glanced up at the abrupt movement. Smoke from the frying dough wreathed her face. The heat had put a flush in her cheeks. Long, straggling tendrils had escaped her untidy bun to curl over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark and luminous in the firelight.
Walk away! his mind shouted. Make dust. Now, while you still can.
Her voice drifted to him across the crackling fire, calm and steady as a tall oak in a storm. “The johnnycakes are browning up nicely.”
Ride out. Tonight. Leave her here with the boy. She’ll find her way.
“We’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes.”
He swore a silent, savage oath. Knew damned well she’d keep on his tail whether he wanted her there or not.
“I’ll take you as far as Rawhide Buttes tomorrow. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Very well.”
At least she had sense enough not to crow. Jack gave her marks for that.
“You’d better douse your fire and retrieve your horse,” she suggested with a poke at the johnnycakes. “I’ll have supper dished up by the time you get back.”
6
T he following day, Jack ate Suzanne’s dust most of the way to Rawhide Buttes.
She rode astride, as loose-backed as any cavalry trooper, skirts flapping at her calves. If the length of silk stocking showing above her borrowed boots flustered her, she sure didn’t let on. She’d plucked the quail feathers off her hat and bent down the brim to shield her eyes. She’d shed her bustle, too. The rucked-up fabric at the back of her skirt sagged without the wire cage. Although the sun didn’t burn with quite the same intensity it had the past few days, it generated enough heat for her to shed her jacket, tie it behind her on the saddle and undo the top few buttons of her high-necked blouse.
Yesterday, Jack would have bet his last dollar that the dainty miss seated across from him on the stage would suffocate before she’d shed any of herfancy outer layers. It bothered him that he’d read her so wrong. The glimpses he caught of the long neck and creamy skin now exposed to the breeze bothered him even more.
Deliberately, he dropped back. No sense torturing himself. Not that viewing her backside was any easier on him than viewing her front. She’d given up trying to bundle her honey-brown hair and left it down, tied back out of the way with a rawhide thong from her saddle. The long, curling tail fell down her back and swished when she moved, just like a mare’s. And just like a stallion on the scent of a rut, Jack couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
It didn’t help that young Matt Butts appeared just as taken with the woman.
“Best not to think what you’re thinking, kid.”
The hog farmer wrenched his gaze away from Suzanne’s legs. Cheeks crimson, he mumbled that he wasn’t thinking nothing. Jack knew better. His own thoughts weren’t the sort a man could take into church with
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