By the first of August, daylight stretched to its limits and Josiah got more accomplished than he expected. The four-year-old mare he’d picked out for Corra was coming along nicely, and in a few short weeks, they’d be rounding up steers for market, branding late calves, and cutting out a dozen horses for sale. And Beatrice would arrive in all her snobbery and put them to the test. His hands fisted involuntarily, and he shook them out, halfway repenting for what he thought of her.
At supper that night he asked Corra if she needed anything from town. She laid her napkin on the table and looked at the cupboard as if mentally calculating their stores.
“I can make a list if you’re planning on driving in.” She gave him that straight look. “Or I could ride in with you and say hello to Letty.”
He sopped up his gravy with a chunk of bread, trying to swallow his pleasure with the mouthful. “That’d be fine. I plan on leaving tomorrow morning early.” He wiped his mouth and eyed Jess and Joe and Pop. “You three can keep things running smooth, can’t you?”
Pop chuckled and buttered his bread. Jess’s shoulders slumped and Joe just kept eating. It was settled, then. He’d have the day to himself with Corra, something he’d wanted for a while. He didn’t have much time left, and a new thought had been stirring his gut.
By sunup the next morning, Josiah’s chores were finished and Rena stomped in the harness. Breakfast was on the table when he walked inside, Jess and Joe in their places. But Pop hadn’t shown. Josiah caught Corra’s eye as he washed at the sink, and she gave him her quiet smile. Nearly jerked his heart out of his chest. He took a deep breath, pulled the towel off the hook, and stepped closer. “You hear any stirring from Pop’s room?”
She laid a reassuring hand on his arm and sent fire up his sleeve. “Joe checked on him. He’s just sleeping hard. I’ll save back a plate for him.”
Josiah had a mind to take her in his arms and kiss her right then and there. And he would have if she hadn’t picked up a plate of hotcakes. He went around to his seat, and Jess was already holding her hands out. His throat grew thick just thinking about the change in his family since Corra came. “Joe, say grace this morning.”
Stunned for a moment, the boy bowed his head and offered a quick word of thanks, rushing toward the “amen” like a hen after scraps.
Table talk was sparse, and that suited Josiah just fine. He was having a hard time keeping his nerves from twitching off without him. He ate quickly and set his plate in the sink. “You two keep an eye on Pop. We’ll be back this afternoon.”
“We can handle it, Pa.” Jess straightened her shoulders and reached for another hotcake. “Ain’t that right, Joe?”
Josiah cocked a brow.
She grinned. “Isn’t that right?”
Her brother laughed with his mouth full and nearly choked. Jess slapped him on the back, and Josiah headed for the door. “I’ll wait in the wagon.”
“Give me a minute.” Corra’s voice held that smile but he wouldn’t look at her. Not if he was going to spend the morning in her company without making a fool of himself.
He grabbed his hat and stepped out into the dawn-warmed air, fresh and clean. He filled his lungs and climbed into the wagon. Corra was good as her word and soon appeared with her bonnet on and a small handbag. He helped her up, and she planted herself right beside him. Not clear over at the opposite end like she had the day he’d brought her to the ranch. Seemed a little closer than on Sunday mornings, too. Maybe there was hope for the day after all.
Excitement twisted Corra’s fingers around her reticule draw. A stolen moment with Letty. The activity of other people going about their business. The train. Since learning she’d have this unexpected break in her routine, she had barely contained herself.
And riding to town alone with Josiah? That had pinked her cheeks this morning when she looked in the mirror, scolding herself for not avoiding his solitary company. But ever since she scalded her hand and he drew her into his strong embrace, well…
He drove silently, as usual, and she settled into the familiar, taking in the rugged surroundings she’d come to so appreciate. Mostly, enjoying his company.
“Jess is coming along fine.”
His out-of-the-blue comment jolted her, and she tried to read his face. He glanced her way but quickly looked back to the road. His shoulders were squared, his back straight. Not his usual driving posture. Alerted to the subtle differences, she waited for the trap to spring.
“Aside from that episode at the picnic, she’s showing more signs of a positive nature.”
Corra squelched a laugh at his choice of words. “I have a confession to make.”
One brow shot to his hat brim.
“I was proud of her for standing up to that bully. I admit her response was not the most ladylike gesture, but did you notice all those boys standing around—including Joe—and not one of them came to her defense?” Corra stiffened as she spoke, reliving a similar incident from her own childhood.
Rena’s clip-clop against the hard-packed road filled the silence hanging taut above the wagon seat. Corra raised her chin and stared ahead. She would not explain further. Let him figure it out.
Josiah huffed. “I got a bit of satisfaction myself when I learned the whole story. But what you told her was right. She should have come to get one of us.”
His gaze met hers on the word us, and an unseen thread tugged at Corra’s heart. A thread that had somehow attached itself to a certain widowed rancher who had hired her services. Did his tenderness that day in the kitchen mean he thought of her as more than his employee?
“You’ve done right by her, Corra. By all of us.” He cleared his throat, as if to continue, but an ungodly racket stopped him short. The Westcliffe stage and six clattered around the rocks ahead, churning up dust and pounding right for them. The driver veered off and passed them with a “hoo-rah,” and passengers waved from the open windows. Corra coughed into her hands, amazed those people could actually breathe. Josiah yanked his neckerchief up over his nose and slapped Rena into a quicker pace. When they finally cleared the dust cloud, most of it had settled upon them, coating their clothing in fine grit. Josiah pulled off the road and came to a stop.
“What are you doing?” Corra choked out the question.
He jumped down and offered his hand. “The creek cuts close to the road here. Thought you might want to clean off some.”
Such thoughtfulness from a cowboy. “Thank you.” Perhaps his wife had exposed him to things a woman would consider important. The thought pricked her heart. She stood to accept his hand, but instead he caught her around the waist and set her down, holding her longer than needed. Corra had instinctively reached for his shoulders when he picked her up, and she couldn’t bring herself to let go. Memories of that day in the kitchen flooded through her. Dare she lay her head on his chest again? For no reason other than she wanted to?
Shocked by her bold fancy, she lowered her hands and stepped back. “A bit of cool water would be nice after that dusting.” She strode away, desperately hoping she was headed toward the creek.
Within a few feet, she heard the trill of water over stones and stepped around a thicket to a clear, trickling stream. She pulled a hankie from her pocket and dipped it in the water, startled by such cold in early August. She dabbed at her brow and the white embroidered cloth turned brown with near mud. She must be a sight. Dipping the small square into the creek again, she fully submerged it and wrung it out then proceeded to scrub her face and neck.
Josiah went downstream, and from the corner of her eye, she watched him do the same with his bandanna. Then he brushed off his shirtsleeves and denims before returning to hand her up to the wagon. What had he been about to say when the stage barreled around the turn? Should she ask him, or let it pass? He’d spoken to her often enough with those gold-green eyes, but he’d yet to put words to his thoughts.
Maybe Letty’s warning had been right all along—that she allowed herself to be carried off the pathway of truth and into a world of romantic nonsense.