I’m not like those hands from the Double T, if that’s what you’re asking. A man can use his brains or his brawn to get what he wants. I prefer the former.”
“An educated troublemaker! Lord help us!” Dahlia said, and began fanning herself in earnest. When that proved ineffectual, she gave a fairly credible imitation of a swoon.
She was ignored, of course, and Susannah felt a twinge of pity for her eccentric old aunt. No one ever took the time to scratch Daily’s exterior to see the sterling qualities beneath—tarnished though they might be.
“If getting your belongings back is the only thing keeping you here, you might as well leave right now,” Susannah said. “Old Triad Trahern, who owns the Double T, thinks he runs things in these parts, and that usually means Double T hands take what they want and—”
Violette interrupted. “That’s not entirely true, Susannah. They don’t always get what they want. If you’ll remember, Thad’s son, Tate, has been wanting you for years.”
Dahlia made a remarkable recovery in time to add, “And he isn’t any closer to getting her now than he was eight years ago.”
Reed, leaning low over the saddle, watched Susannah. His arms rested on the saddle horn.
Susannah wanted to look away but felt as if she were being hypnotized and drawn into those dark-gray eyes of his. She felt paralyzed, unable to break away—either from him or the rampant rush of feeling he inspired.
Violette spoke up, easing things a bit. “You’re welcome to tie your horse behind the wagon and ride with us.”
“I’ll just follow along right here, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Violette said. “You’re welcome to ride wherever you like.”
Susannah didn’t wait for any more polite conversation. She slapped the horse with the reins harder than usual, and that caused the gentle mare to leap forward. The sudden motion sent Susannah’s bonnet flying off her head, but she paid it no mind. She would rather make another bonnet than stop the wagon and go back and retrieve it with Reed watching.
A few moments later Reed rode up beside Susannah, holding something out to her. “Your hat, ma’am.”
She snatched it from his hand and wedged it beneath her skirts. “Mr. Garrett, you may dispense with the attempt at sounding Southern—badly done, I have to tell you. I am certain that in whatever part of the North you hail from it isn’t customary to say ‘ma’am’. For all your Yankee cleverness, it seems you haven’t realized that while Southern women are gentle and accommodating, they are neither weak nor gullible.” She slapped the mare again, and the wagon pulled ahead, removing Reed Garrett from her sight. But it did not leave behind the sound of his laughter, which seemed to follow for far too long.
Violette took Reed’s hand as she alighted from the wagon and said to Susannah, “I’ll show Mr. Garrett the place out back. Why don’t you and Dally go over to the house and round up a few things to make Reed comfortable? He’ll need linens and such.”
Violette hadn’t known Reed long, but she was considered a good judge of men and horseflesh. She was willing to wager that he wanted to ask a favor of her but was hesitant to do so in front of her sister and niece. Her heart went out to him. He was down on his luck and it touched her. “Before they go on up to the house, is there anything you can think of that you’ll be needing, anything I didn’t mention?” she asked quietly in the kindest tone she could muster, knowing that he would accept kindness but not pity.
He shrugged, his glance darting to Dahlia and Susannah. Violette could almost see the knot of embarrassment she knew was forming in his throat. “It’s all right, Mr. Garrett, you are among friends, and I can assure you that anything you get, you will work for. It isn’t charity.”
“Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind…if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d sure be appreciative
“An educated troublemaker! Lord help us!” Dahlia said, and began fanning herself in earnest. When that proved ineffectual, she gave a fairly credible imitation of a swoon.
She was ignored, of course, and Susannah felt a twinge of pity for her eccentric old aunt. No one ever took the time to scratch Daily’s exterior to see the sterling qualities beneath—tarnished though they might be.
“If getting your belongings back is the only thing keeping you here, you might as well leave right now,” Susannah said. “Old Triad Trahern, who owns the Double T, thinks he runs things in these parts, and that usually means Double T hands take what they want and—”
Violette interrupted. “That’s not entirely true, Susannah. They don’t always get what they want. If you’ll remember, Thad’s son, Tate, has been wanting you for years.”
Dahlia made a remarkable recovery in time to add, “And he isn’t any closer to getting her now than he was eight years ago.”
Reed, leaning low over the saddle, watched Susannah. His arms rested on the saddle horn.
Susannah wanted to look away but felt as if she were being hypnotized and drawn into those dark-gray eyes of his. She felt paralyzed, unable to break away—either from him or the rampant rush of feeling he inspired.
Violette spoke up, easing things a bit. “You’re welcome to tie your horse behind the wagon and ride with us.”
“I’ll just follow along right here, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Violette said. “You’re welcome to ride wherever you like.”
Susannah didn’t wait for any more polite conversation. She slapped the horse with the reins harder than usual, and that caused the gentle mare to leap forward. The sudden motion sent Susannah’s bonnet flying off her head, but she paid it no mind. She would rather make another bonnet than stop the wagon and go back and retrieve it with Reed watching.
A few moments later Reed rode up beside Susannah, holding something out to her. “Your hat, ma’am.”
She snatched it from his hand and wedged it beneath her skirts. “Mr. Garrett, you may dispense with the attempt at sounding Southern—badly done, I have to tell you. I am certain that in whatever part of the North you hail from it isn’t customary to say ‘ma’am’. For all your Yankee cleverness, it seems you haven’t realized that while Southern women are gentle and accommodating, they are neither weak nor gullible.” She slapped the mare again, and the wagon pulled ahead, removing Reed Garrett from her sight. But it did not leave behind the sound of his laughter, which seemed to follow for far too long.
Violette took Reed’s hand as she alighted from the wagon and said to Susannah, “I’ll show Mr. Garrett the place out back. Why don’t you and Dally go over to the house and round up a few things to make Reed comfortable? He’ll need linens and such.”
Violette hadn’t known Reed long, but she was considered a good judge of men and horseflesh. She was willing to wager that he wanted to ask a favor of her but was hesitant to do so in front of her sister and niece. Her heart went out to him. He was down on his luck and it touched her. “Before they go on up to the house, is there anything you can think of that you’ll be needing, anything I didn’t mention?” she asked quietly in the kindest tone she could muster, knowing that he would accept kindness but not pity.
He shrugged, his glance darting to Dahlia and Susannah. Violette could almost see the knot of embarrassment she knew was forming in his throat. “It’s all right, Mr. Garrett, you are among friends, and I can assure you that anything you get, you will work for. It isn’t charity.”
“Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind…if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d sure be appreciative
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