hiding place. “Would you like to play our hiding game here, now that we know where everything is?”
He perked up. “I think I know where I can hide, but you’ll have to give me time to get there.”
Phyl chuckled. “I’ll double it. Then…I’m going to get you.”
“Shut your eyes, Mom.”
She heard him giggling as he left the room. A hiding place was good. If the need ever arose, he could go there until help came.
For the first time she wondered if she should tell Nellie or Donovan her background. They could be in danger, too. She had to think about it. Once they heard her story, would they ask them to leave? Could she take the risk?
****
The next few days were filled with work. There was no time to do more than sleep, eat, and work some more. For the first time she left Mark with Nellie. Each day his whining intensified. He wanted to be part of the roundup. With the roping, branding, and herding the cattle, he could get hurt. For now, he was safe with Nellie—for now, that was enough.
Surprisingly, Cal brightened her days. He did nothing to further her suspicions, just asked a million ranch questions that she let Donovan answer. He knew little about ranching, but was so eager to learn that no one could fault him. Once he was shown how to do a job, he did it. In a few months, he’d be pretty good. His sense of humor along with his innocent adulation of both Donovan and herself seemed to make her days less tiring.
For hours at a time she actually forgot why she was here. She simply did her job, ate the food Nellie put in front of her, and fell into bed each night exhausted, until the next morning when it started all over again.
Occasionally, she’d look up to find Donovan staring at her. She didn’t know what he was thinking. She only knew that every time she caught his eye a flash of heat swept over her.
What made her think she could do this work by herself? She’d been on roundups before. It always took more than one person to do the job. Even with the three of them working hard all day it was hot and wearing.
Today, the sun could “fry your innards” as her dad used to say. She wiped sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt, grabbed a bottle of water.
Donovan and Cal were just as hot and tired as she was. No one had stopped all morning. Now it was time to break for lunch. She poured water into her hand and wiped her face.
Donovan gave the signal to head for the nearest tree where they would share the lunch Nellie packed.
The shade of the ancient oak was more than welcome. Phyl sat on the ground, then, unable to resist, lay back and stretched out. It felt good. She heard Donovan and Cal as they pulled out sandwiches and cold lemonade—heard them laughing about how hungry they were. Then she heard nothing.
The seconds ticked by.
“Phyl?”
The voice came from a distance. Something cold swiped over her face. She sat up; stunned that she’d fallen asleep in the middle of the day when she should be working.
“C’mon, Phyl. I think you got a little too much sun.”
She shook her head. The action made her dizzy.
Looking around in confusion, she saw that she was still under the tree, heard Cal calling out to the calves. Donovan looked at her with apprehension.
“I’m fine.”
“No. You’re not. It has to be a hundred and five today. I’m taking you back to the house.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” She took the bottle of cold water, drank some, poured the rest over her face.
“You’re as red as a tomato. My fault. I should have been more careful. This is heatstroke weather.”
She wanted to show him she was okay, that she could do her job even in this heat. What kind of rancher couldn’t? She started to get up, staggered. Donovan caught her.
“Steady,” he said.
His touch sent flames licking through her in all directions. “This is ridiculous. Give me a minute.”
“You’re doing a man’s job in heat that would melt wax. I’m taking you to the house.”
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