Read Online Widow Woman by Patricia McLinn - Free Book Online

out of air to enjoy."
    "No, indeed. I used to worry about things like that as a child. Especially with the stars."
    "Why stars?"
    "My mama told me about how the stars in constellations came from all these old Greek and Roman gods, and I kept thinking if Orion decided to snatch his belt from the sky, we'd lose all those stars. Pa would point out the shooting stars, and I thought for certain we'd run out before too long."
    Nick lifted his chin to survey the rapidly darkening sky. Rachel watched him briefly before doing the same.
    "Doesn't look like tonight's sky's short of stars,” he said after a while.
    She smiled up at the lights spattering the brushed satin sky. Clouds scudded across, causing the stars to wink and blink at them. “No, it doesn't."
    "Your ma taught you about Greek gods and such, huh?"
    "Mmm-hmm,” she confirmed, surveying the heavens. “She tried. My mind wandered. While Mama struggled to make me a lady, I wanted to be with Pa. She'd say I was an unnatural child, and she couldn't imagine how she'd come to have such a daughter. Then she'd laugh and hug me. She was from St. Louis and liked books and music. She never understood about being out in the open, with all this space, riding...” The memory of mischief brought a smile. “She especially didn't understand about my riding astride. Oh, how she hated that. As if I could rope from that sidesaddle rig. But I kept it to make her happy."
    Kept it even now, years after her mother, grown more delicate each year, had not withstood her final effort to bear her husband another child. Theresa Phillips had been buried atop the big hill behind their house near the Platte River, where she had sat many hours by the tiny graves of four stillborn babes, looking east.
    Rachel shook her head against the prick of sorrow and dropped her gaze from the sky to the man beside her, whose eyes met hers.
    "I've never been anywhere bigger than Cheyenne, but Mama used to tell me of St. Louis. You said you'd been to San Francisco. What's it like?"
    "Crowded."
    "But the buildings, aren't they grand? And the people, what about the people?"
    "There's more people, so there's more meanness."
    "Oh.” Was she foolish to imagine a hurt beneath those flat words? “Well, I can't imagine being cooped up the way I hear folks are in cities, but it would be something to see buildings big as mountains, and people all dressed up like they show in those magazines. Men in their top hats and diamond studs and women—"
    "In their pretty dresses.” So low were his words they almost seemed a whisper from her mind. She flicked a look at his face, then away. “Would you be satisfied just seeing them?"
    "Yes,” she lied defiantly.
    "Wouldn't be natural for a woman not to want pretty dresses."
    She wasn't sure if he was mocking her foolish desire, truly reassuring her or teasing her about Wood's proposal this afternoon. Neither his voice not his expression gave her any certainty.
    "When the choice is pretty dresses or another hand for the Circle T, I'd be a fool to take a dress,” she said tartly. “And I'd look a proper fool trying to rope a calf wearing anything but these work clothes.” She wished she hadn't said that. She was acutely aware of his gaze traveling slowly over her outfit, a survey she'd practically invited. Before he could comment, she hurried into the first topic to cross her mind.
    "You have family, Nick? You never speak about your life."
    He looked away. “A sister."
    The brusque answer, his gruff voice clearly closed the subject as far as he was concerned.
    His very rudeness reawakened the ache she'd felt for him earlier. He sounded so alone. Or perhaps she was simply feeling that way herself.
    "I would have liked a sister. Someone to play with and tell my secrets to. Mama used to say I didn't really lack a brother or sister to play with, because I had Pa. He took me everywhere. Especially after ... after it was the two of us.” Determined to be cheerful, determined to