with a creek, a good well and a spring. Not a lot of quarter sections have their own water source. And then, there's you." He didn't like the twist of his heart when he looked at her, breathing in the faint scent of strawberry, sweet woman and summer. His fingers itched to brush against the gentle curve of her face or push back the soft golden tendrils from her wide-set, honest eyes.
She's nineteen, he thought. The same age he'd been when his world exploded like a boxcar of dynamite.
"Me?" Her forehead scrunched up, confused.
"There aren't many beautiful young women around."
"I'm not beautiful." A blush crept up her face, turning her a cute shade of pink.
Oh, she was. "You're vulnerable out here. You don't understand what some men are capable of. Considering these tracks and the confrontation you had with Tannen yesterday, you have to take this seriously."
"I do."
Some men saw a woman as property, as something to possess or ruin. His chest cinched at the thought of something happening to her. He had more to say to her, but the grass rustled, drawing his attention. Not a human footstep he heard, he realized. No, not a human presence at all.
"Dakota? Where are you going?"
"Stay behind me." He drew his Peacemaker, keeping his senses peeled for sign of predators. She'd been right about mountain lion tracks at the creek, he'd spotted them himself when he'd washed this morning. He kept his pace slow and followed a trail of sunflowers toward a small draw.
He saw the shadow first, mane rippling in the breeze. The palomino mare startled, hopping backward. Dried blood glinted on her flanks. Looked liked she'd done battle with a wild cat.
"Did you come looking for help, girl?" He holstered his Colt. He turned his attention to the mare, but Kit remained at the back of his senses. He felt the wonder in her quiet gasp. Felt the lurch of her heartbeat in his own.
The mare froze too, her nostrils flaring. He gave her time to scent him, and let her feel his calm, his strength. He wanted her to figure out he was the help she was looking for.
"Couldn't keep up with the herd last night?" he asked, letting his tone warm and soften like butter in the sun. He opened his heart to her. An eternity passed before the mare took a step closer. He moved in, held out his hands and let her take her time before lowering her head to him.
He stroked her, felt her fear and pain.
"She isn't a mustang." He unbuckled his belt nice and slow. "My guess is she used to belong to someone, although how long she's been running with the herd is anyone's guess."
"Poor thing. It's a wonder she escaped the cat attack."
"She has a strong will." He looped his belt around the mare's golden neck, patting her reassuringly.
"It's all right," he said, both with words and spirit. "We'll take good care of you."
"Yes we will. You're a beautiful girl." Kit's gentle voice rang like a melody, lovely and true, but when she went to touch the animal, the mare shied away, panicked.
It was all he could do to hold her. His wound hurt something fierce and he was weaker from it than he wanted to admit. This was no time to be weak, not for the horse and not for Kit.
He'd failed to follow his instincts once, and a girl had died as a result. History was not going to repeat itself. He steeled his spine.
"She's afraid of me, but not you."
"Don't worry," he said. "She'll warm up to you."
"But she already likes you." Kit's gray Stetson shaded her face, but not her dimples. "I'm not used to being second fiddle when it comes to horses, but I've never seen anyone better than you."
"She's been tame before. It makes a difference."
"Not that big of a difference."
Something happened when their gazes met. His chest filled with formidable longing. Partly it was physical—how could he not notice her lithe female form beneath the blue calico dress she wore? But the emotion rolling through him was more substantial than that, more surprising. His heart quickened with light in a place that
She's nineteen, he thought. The same age he'd been when his world exploded like a boxcar of dynamite.
"Me?" Her forehead scrunched up, confused.
"There aren't many beautiful young women around."
"I'm not beautiful." A blush crept up her face, turning her a cute shade of pink.
Oh, she was. "You're vulnerable out here. You don't understand what some men are capable of. Considering these tracks and the confrontation you had with Tannen yesterday, you have to take this seriously."
"I do."
Some men saw a woman as property, as something to possess or ruin. His chest cinched at the thought of something happening to her. He had more to say to her, but the grass rustled, drawing his attention. Not a human footstep he heard, he realized. No, not a human presence at all.
"Dakota? Where are you going?"
"Stay behind me." He drew his Peacemaker, keeping his senses peeled for sign of predators. She'd been right about mountain lion tracks at the creek, he'd spotted them himself when he'd washed this morning. He kept his pace slow and followed a trail of sunflowers toward a small draw.
He saw the shadow first, mane rippling in the breeze. The palomino mare startled, hopping backward. Dried blood glinted on her flanks. Looked liked she'd done battle with a wild cat.
"Did you come looking for help, girl?" He holstered his Colt. He turned his attention to the mare, but Kit remained at the back of his senses. He felt the wonder in her quiet gasp. Felt the lurch of her heartbeat in his own.
The mare froze too, her nostrils flaring. He gave her time to scent him, and let her feel his calm, his strength. He wanted her to figure out he was the help she was looking for.
"Couldn't keep up with the herd last night?" he asked, letting his tone warm and soften like butter in the sun. He opened his heart to her. An eternity passed before the mare took a step closer. He moved in, held out his hands and let her take her time before lowering her head to him.
He stroked her, felt her fear and pain.
"She isn't a mustang." He unbuckled his belt nice and slow. "My guess is she used to belong to someone, although how long she's been running with the herd is anyone's guess."
"Poor thing. It's a wonder she escaped the cat attack."
"She has a strong will." He looped his belt around the mare's golden neck, patting her reassuringly.
"It's all right," he said, both with words and spirit. "We'll take good care of you."
"Yes we will. You're a beautiful girl." Kit's gentle voice rang like a melody, lovely and true, but when she went to touch the animal, the mare shied away, panicked.
It was all he could do to hold her. His wound hurt something fierce and he was weaker from it than he wanted to admit. This was no time to be weak, not for the horse and not for Kit.
He'd failed to follow his instincts once, and a girl had died as a result. History was not going to repeat itself. He steeled his spine.
"She's afraid of me, but not you."
"Don't worry," he said. "She'll warm up to you."
"But she already likes you." Kit's gray Stetson shaded her face, but not her dimples. "I'm not used to being second fiddle when it comes to horses, but I've never seen anyone better than you."
"She's been tame before. It makes a difference."
"Not that big of a difference."
Something happened when their gazes met. His chest filled with formidable longing. Partly it was physical—how could he not notice her lithe female form beneath the blue calico dress she wore? But the emotion rolling through him was more substantial than that, more surprising. His heart quickened with light in a place that
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