wrong with Tom , and
that’s the trouble . Well, there was a lot wrong with Tom, at least in the
romantic sense.
First, he was hardly
civilized. He talked too loud, sang those awful bawdy songs in an off-key
voice, and he laughed at his own jokes. Second, he was irresponsible, a trait
he’d no doubt picked up from his mother. Oh, what was the point in counting?
Tom Henderson was a fine looking man, and if the feelings still stirring about
inside her heart and soul were any indication, he sure knew how to please a
woman. But Tom wasn’t looking for love, only for a good time, a one-night stand
as the cowboys called it.
Mortified to think she might
have given him what he wanted—and frantic that she didn’t even know whether she
had or not—Lucille ducked her head, slouched her shoulders, and walked slowly
toward the door. How could she ever face Tom again?
“Just so you know, Miss
McIntyre, my son didn’t lay a hand on you last night. I suspect you came here a
virgin, and you’ll be leaving the same way. All you did was pass out. He put you
to bed. Anybody ever tell you how loud you snore?”
“I do not snore!” How dare
this woman insult her. Relieved to know that nothing seriously wrong had happened, Lucille finally drew in a deep,
refreshing breath. A little bit of sanity returned. “Where are my shoes? Did I
have my bag with me?” She scavenged around, found both, and snatched them up.
“I’m leaving now. Tell Tom I don’t ever want to see him again. As for you,
Charlotte, I’ll see you at work on Monday morning. Don’t be late.”
She stepped outside, then
suddenly realized she had no way to get home other than walking. She stopped,
squared her shoulders and looked back toward the door. “Charlotte, would you
mind…”
“Get in the wagon.” She was
already headed that direction. “I sure don’t know why that son of mine went to
so much trouble over you. I still can’t figure out why he brought you out
here.”
Lucille knew why he’d done
it. With her mother visiting in Denver, she would have had no one to look after
her had Tom taken her home. In her intoxicated state, she could have fallen or
hurt herself in other ways. He’d brought her here to keep her from harm.
What a good man he was.
Good, indeed, in so many ways.
As far as she could
remember, not once had she ever heard him speak an unkind word about anyone. He
never quarreled or argued. He was quite a gentle man, she thought, recalling
his touch. And among all the men she’d met in her twenty-two years, she’d never
really known one who showed so much courtesy toward others as Tom Henderson.
Yes, he was sometimes loud
and boisterous. He was a cowboy! Of course he enjoyed kicking up his heels at
the Saturday night barn dances. Of course he liked a shot of whiskey and a
bawdy tune. That’s how men were. Especially cowboys.
But how many men had that
other side? That gentleness about them, that inherent kindness?
Not that it mattered now, of
course. Seeing Tom would be much too embarrassing. She simply couldn’t face him
again. Not ever.
* * * *
Sunday was definitely a day
of rest in Sunset. Most of the hands at the Flying W slept right thought it,
and Tom figured it was a sure bet Miss Lucille McIntyre most certainly wasn’t
stirring about much.
As he lay in his bunk, he
smiled, thinking of how lovely she’d looked when he’d last seen her, sleeping
in the spare bed at his mother’s little house. He’d been sorely tempted to stay
with her all night, but giving in to that temptation would have led to greater
ones, and he might have ended up doing things…well, not things he’d regret, but
the sort of things she would regret.
In time, he meant to get her into his bed, but on her own terms. He liked his
women willing.
It was the same with horses,
Tom thought, as he set to work on Monday morning. He intended to get that bonus
his boss had offered him. For more than a week, he’d been working patiently
with the
that’s the trouble . Well, there was a lot wrong with Tom, at least in the
romantic sense.
First, he was hardly
civilized. He talked too loud, sang those awful bawdy songs in an off-key
voice, and he laughed at his own jokes. Second, he was irresponsible, a trait
he’d no doubt picked up from his mother. Oh, what was the point in counting?
Tom Henderson was a fine looking man, and if the feelings still stirring about
inside her heart and soul were any indication, he sure knew how to please a
woman. But Tom wasn’t looking for love, only for a good time, a one-night stand
as the cowboys called it.
Mortified to think she might
have given him what he wanted—and frantic that she didn’t even know whether she
had or not—Lucille ducked her head, slouched her shoulders, and walked slowly
toward the door. How could she ever face Tom again?
“Just so you know, Miss
McIntyre, my son didn’t lay a hand on you last night. I suspect you came here a
virgin, and you’ll be leaving the same way. All you did was pass out. He put you
to bed. Anybody ever tell you how loud you snore?”
“I do not snore!” How dare
this woman insult her. Relieved to know that nothing seriously wrong had happened, Lucille finally drew in a deep,
refreshing breath. A little bit of sanity returned. “Where are my shoes? Did I
have my bag with me?” She scavenged around, found both, and snatched them up.
“I’m leaving now. Tell Tom I don’t ever want to see him again. As for you,
Charlotte, I’ll see you at work on Monday morning. Don’t be late.”
She stepped outside, then
suddenly realized she had no way to get home other than walking. She stopped,
squared her shoulders and looked back toward the door. “Charlotte, would you
mind…”
“Get in the wagon.” She was
already headed that direction. “I sure don’t know why that son of mine went to
so much trouble over you. I still can’t figure out why he brought you out
here.”
Lucille knew why he’d done
it. With her mother visiting in Denver, she would have had no one to look after
her had Tom taken her home. In her intoxicated state, she could have fallen or
hurt herself in other ways. He’d brought her here to keep her from harm.
What a good man he was.
Good, indeed, in so many ways.
As far as she could
remember, not once had she ever heard him speak an unkind word about anyone. He
never quarreled or argued. He was quite a gentle man, she thought, recalling
his touch. And among all the men she’d met in her twenty-two years, she’d never
really known one who showed so much courtesy toward others as Tom Henderson.
Yes, he was sometimes loud
and boisterous. He was a cowboy! Of course he enjoyed kicking up his heels at
the Saturday night barn dances. Of course he liked a shot of whiskey and a
bawdy tune. That’s how men were. Especially cowboys.
But how many men had that
other side? That gentleness about them, that inherent kindness?
Not that it mattered now, of
course. Seeing Tom would be much too embarrassing. She simply couldn’t face him
again. Not ever.
* * * *
Sunday was definitely a day
of rest in Sunset. Most of the hands at the Flying W slept right thought it,
and Tom figured it was a sure bet Miss Lucille McIntyre most certainly wasn’t
stirring about much.
As he lay in his bunk, he
smiled, thinking of how lovely she’d looked when he’d last seen her, sleeping
in the spare bed at his mother’s little house. He’d been sorely tempted to stay
with her all night, but giving in to that temptation would have led to greater
ones, and he might have ended up doing things…well, not things he’d regret, but
the sort of things she would regret.
In time, he meant to get her into his bed, but on her own terms. He liked his
women willing.
It was the same with horses,
Tom thought, as he set to work on Monday morning. He intended to get that bonus
his boss had offered him. For more than a week, he’d been working patiently
with the
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