Read Online Samantha’s Cowboy by Marin Thomas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marin Thomas
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bogeyman.
“Dad, I’m hungry.” Luke’s shadow fell over the hole.
Wade checked his watch. Noon. He and Luke had loaded a cooler with Gatorade bottles this morning but he hadn’t thought to pack snacks or lunch food.
“That’s not a very big hole.” Luke glanced between the mound of dirt and the four-foot hole Wade stood at the bottom of.
Ignoring the criticism, Wade attempted to hoist himself out of the crater but his Jell-O arms wobbled and he slipped to the bottom, swallowing a groan as pain shot through his shoulders.
“Need a hand?” Samantha peered over the edge at him, fighting a smile.
What the hell. He’d already made an ass out of himself, he might as well accept her assistance. “Sure.”
“On the count of three.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “One, two…three.”
Wade scaled the side of the hole. When his hips cleared the edge, he flung himself forward and Samantha released her grip. “Thanks,” he huffed, scrambling to his feet. For a pampered princess she had a heck of a grip.
“Next time put a ladder in the hole with ya,” Millicent said, joining the group.
No kidding. The problem was he didn’t have a ladder. “Luke and I are heading out for lunch.” And a ladder.
“Where did you plan to eat?” Samantha asked.
“Nearest restaurant, I guess.” Wade slapped at the dirt on his jeans.
“Ain’t no nearest restaurant leastways ya mean Beulah’s. She’s closed on Sundays.”
Great. Now what?
“Got me a kilt chicken,” the old woman said. “An’ fixins fer biscuits.”
A kilt chicken? Don’t ask.
“You two wash up. I’ll help make lunch.” Samantha and Millicent walked off.
“Where are we supposed to wash up?” Wade turned in a circle.
“Millicent said there’s a little water left in the backyard well.” Luke pointed to the rundown farmhouse.
Wade followed his son, his arms flopping against his sides like overcooked noodles. He pumped the well handle twice.
Luke shoved a bucket under the small stream of water. “You’re not supposed to waste any, Dad.”
While Wade washed his hands in an inch of water, he contemplated jumping headfirst into the dark hole. His blistered fingers hurt. His sunburned neck itched. And his shoulders throbbed. What he wouldn’t give for a long, cold shower.
“You’re bleeding, Dad.” Luke poked at an open blister on his father’s palm.
“I’m fine.” Next time he’d have to remember to bring along a pair of leather work gloves.
As soon as they entered Millicent’s two-room shanty, Luke blurted, “My dad’s hands are bleeding.”
The old witch grunted an unintelligible word as sheflipped pieces of chicken in a skillet of hot grease. Samantha, bless her sympathetic heart, didn’t ignore him. She turned his hands palm side up. “Ouch.”
What did she mean, ouch? He couldn’t feel a thing except for the tingling sensation that followed in the wake of her finger as she caressed the raw flesh around each blister.
“Sit,” she commanded.
Feeling light-headed, Wade collapsed onto one of the ladder-back chairs at the crudely made table, which sat in the center of the cabin. Samantha brought a shoebox filled with jars and strips of clean cloth to the table. “Let’s see what Millicent has in her first aid kit.”
Wade eyed the collection of small jars but didn’t recognize any products commonly found in a drugstore. Samantha must have read his mind, because she smiled reassuringly as she spread a salve that smelled like a dead animal carcass across his wounds.
“You should stop digging, Wade. These sores will take days to heal.”
His name slipped from her mouth in a gentle rush of air that soughed across his palm. He wanted to take her advice but calling it quits for the day wasn’t possible—not unless he intended to tell her the truth right here and now. Samantha, you’re broke. That’s why I’m making a fool of myself. “A couple of Band-Aids and my hands will be good as
“Dad, I’m hungry.” Luke’s shadow fell over the hole.
Wade checked his watch. Noon. He and Luke had loaded a cooler with Gatorade bottles this morning but he hadn’t thought to pack snacks or lunch food.
“That’s not a very big hole.” Luke glanced between the mound of dirt and the four-foot hole Wade stood at the bottom of.
Ignoring the criticism, Wade attempted to hoist himself out of the crater but his Jell-O arms wobbled and he slipped to the bottom, swallowing a groan as pain shot through his shoulders.
“Need a hand?” Samantha peered over the edge at him, fighting a smile.
What the hell. He’d already made an ass out of himself, he might as well accept her assistance. “Sure.”
“On the count of three.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “One, two…three.”
Wade scaled the side of the hole. When his hips cleared the edge, he flung himself forward and Samantha released her grip. “Thanks,” he huffed, scrambling to his feet. For a pampered princess she had a heck of a grip.
“Next time put a ladder in the hole with ya,” Millicent said, joining the group.
No kidding. The problem was he didn’t have a ladder. “Luke and I are heading out for lunch.” And a ladder.
“Where did you plan to eat?” Samantha asked.
“Nearest restaurant, I guess.” Wade slapped at the dirt on his jeans.
“Ain’t no nearest restaurant leastways ya mean Beulah’s. She’s closed on Sundays.”
Great. Now what?
“Got me a kilt chicken,” the old woman said. “An’ fixins fer biscuits.”
A kilt chicken? Don’t ask.
“You two wash up. I’ll help make lunch.” Samantha and Millicent walked off.
“Where are we supposed to wash up?” Wade turned in a circle.
“Millicent said there’s a little water left in the backyard well.” Luke pointed to the rundown farmhouse.
Wade followed his son, his arms flopping against his sides like overcooked noodles. He pumped the well handle twice.
Luke shoved a bucket under the small stream of water. “You’re not supposed to waste any, Dad.”
While Wade washed his hands in an inch of water, he contemplated jumping headfirst into the dark hole. His blistered fingers hurt. His sunburned neck itched. And his shoulders throbbed. What he wouldn’t give for a long, cold shower.
“You’re bleeding, Dad.” Luke poked at an open blister on his father’s palm.
“I’m fine.” Next time he’d have to remember to bring along a pair of leather work gloves.
As soon as they entered Millicent’s two-room shanty, Luke blurted, “My dad’s hands are bleeding.”
The old witch grunted an unintelligible word as sheflipped pieces of chicken in a skillet of hot grease. Samantha, bless her sympathetic heart, didn’t ignore him. She turned his hands palm side up. “Ouch.”
What did she mean, ouch? He couldn’t feel a thing except for the tingling sensation that followed in the wake of her finger as she caressed the raw flesh around each blister.
“Sit,” she commanded.
Feeling light-headed, Wade collapsed onto one of the ladder-back chairs at the crudely made table, which sat in the center of the cabin. Samantha brought a shoebox filled with jars and strips of clean cloth to the table. “Let’s see what Millicent has in her first aid kit.”
Wade eyed the collection of small jars but didn’t recognize any products commonly found in a drugstore. Samantha must have read his mind, because she smiled reassuringly as she spread a salve that smelled like a dead animal carcass across his wounds.
“You should stop digging, Wade. These sores will take days to heal.”
His name slipped from her mouth in a gentle rush of air that soughed across his palm. He wanted to take her advice but calling it quits for the day wasn’t possible—not unless he intended to tell her the truth right here and now. Samantha, you’re broke. That’s why I’m making a fool of myself. “A couple of Band-Aids and my hands will be good as
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