Deborah Camp by Lonewolf's Woman Page B

bronze skin. A streak of dirt arced across his left cheekbone. He pulled off his work gloves, and Elise noticed that the stitches on them were coming undone.
    Amazingly, she pictured herself mending them, and this amused her. Mending gloves! Why, she barely knew how to thread a needle! Still, if he asked her, she’d give it a try. She wanted desperately to gain his respect.
    He wore a sky-blue shirt and dark work pants that were full in the legs but hugged his backside. His heavy black boots had seen better days, as had his faded red suspenders. His straw-hat brim looked as if it had been chewed in several places. He took the flowers from Penny, his strong fingers gentle as they pressed against the fragile stems.
    “Much thanks,” he said, his voice huskier than usual. He removed his hat and tucked the blooms under the leather band. “I’ll just put them here.”
    “That looks nice,” Penny said. “We have eggs and biscuits. Want some?”
    “I guess I can stop for a few minutes. Let’s go sit under that tree.” He looked pointedly at the basket, and Elise handed it to him. “I made do with beef jerky and milk this morning.”
    “I would have thrown something together foryou if you’d awakened me,” Elise said, although she hated to think what kind of mess she would have made in the kitchen.
    “I don’t wake people up. That’s what I have a rooster for.”
    A rooster … Elise dimly recalled a raucous crowing earlier. She had placed the feather pillow over her head to drown out the noise. Back in Baltimore, her mother had kissed them all awake each morning. Her loss gaped inside Elise like an open wound, and she shut her mind to the memories, however sweet. If she allowed herself to dwell on the many things she missed about her parents, she’d dissolve in a puddle of tears and Blade Lonewolf would send her packing for sure! She sensed he was a man who kept himself on a tight rein.
    Elise removed the tablecloth from the basket and spread it under the tree. Blade set the basket to one side of the cloth, then sat with his back braced against the tree trunk, one leg bent, the other stretched out in front of him. Elise and Penny sat near him, and Elise unpacked the basket.
    “I hope you like hard-boiled eggs.”
    He reached for one. “I like them okay.” He peeled off the shell and ate half the egg with one bite.
    “Good.” Elise watched in amazement as he finished off the egg with one more huge bite. “And here’s some bread, and a jug of water. I bet you’re thirsty.” She glanced toward the mules. “Should we water the animals, too?”
    “I watered them earlier. They’re fine.”
    “What are you planting out here?”
    He looked at her with a measure of surprise. “Nothing. It’s too early to plant.”
    “Then what are you doing?”
    “Plowing. I’m harrowing under the winter wheat and getting the ground ready for planting.” He peeled the brown shell off another egg, glancing at her through his thick, inky lashes. “You know about as much about farming as a hog does about hip pockets on work pants.”
    Elise gave him a scathing glare. “I never suggested that I was familiar with farming. Penny, would you like a boiled egg?”
    “No, thank you.” Penny looked toward the mules, then placed a hand on Blade’s bent knee. “Can I pet the ponies?”
    Blade looked around. “The ponies? Oh, you mean the mules?”
    “Uh-huh. Will they bite?”
    “If they bite you, I’ll bite them back. Go ahead. You can pet them all you want.”
    Penny laughed and scampered toward the big-eared mules. The soft sunlight played over their shiny hides, picking out red hairs among the dark brown and black.
    “How much land do you own?”
    “Sixty acres, but I use twenty of it for grazing.”
    “You have livestock?”
    “I have a few cows and a couple of horses.”
    “I saw one horse in that corral by the barn.”
    He nodded. “The gray? That’s Janie. She’s ready to foal, so I’m keeping an eye on