Sitting on a sun-warmed boulder, Rachel twisted the worn sock around so her big toe didn’t stick out the hole, then slid her boot back on. She stared at the contraption attached behind Emma, her mule. “What did you call that thing, Mr. Stafford? A trapeze?”
He secured the rope to Emma’s pack and turned around, grinning at her. The lunch she’d just eaten, courtesy of his fine hunting skills, did a flip-flop in her stomach.
“A travois. I learned how to make it from some Indians who passed through with an injured brave when I was a kid. And call me Josh—everybody does.”
“You’re sure it’s safe, uh, Josh?” Rachel stared at the apparatus, feeling almost as uncomfortable about Grandpa using it as she did calling Josh by his first name.
Josh had taken two long, straight tree limbs and stripped them of their smaller branches. With his lariat, he’d woven a weblike section between the two branches. Rachel folded Grandpa’s blanket and placed it over the ropes. Josh attached the long poles to either side of Emma and lashed them to the pack carrying their supplies.
Chuckling, Josh checked the rope. “Don’t look so worried. My brothers and I made a travois once, and we gave each other rides. May be a little bumpy, but it’ll serve its purpose. Your grandpa will be more comfortable riding on it than he would with his leg hanging down and being jostled around on my horse.” He jerked the knot tight. “That ought to hold the pack. Let’s see if your grandpa’s awake.” Josh glanced up at the sky. “We need to head out soon.”
A short while later, Rachel watched Josh’s plaid shirt tighten across his broad shoulders as he lowered her grandpa onto the contraption. She took a steadying breath, squelching further thoughts about Josh’s physique. She looked at the trav … thing again, still not too confident in the flimsy device, but surely if she walked beside him, Grandpa would be fine.
“How’s that feel, Mr. Donovan?”
Josh squatted beside Grandpa. The tall cowboy had been nothing but kind and respectful to him. Though she’d never admit it to his face, Rachel was grateful for his take-charge attitude. The pressure of worrying over her grandpa and the lost horses had taken its toll on her frayed nerves. She wondered if a home in Texas was worth all the risks. In her excitement to get to their new home, she never dreamed crossing No Man’s Land would include facing outlaws, snakes, bugs, and runaway horses; sleeping on the ground on the open range; and wrestling for a rifle with a ruggedly handsome cowboy.
“This thing feels fine and dandy, young man. Call me Ian. Nobody calls me Mr. Donovan, ’specially someone who might jes’ have saved my life.”
“Yes, sir, Ian. We’ll go slow and take our time so it won’t be too rough on you. Normally, my ranch is about a half day’s ride from here, but at our pace, it will take us until tomorrow evening, most likely, to get home.”
Rachel threw her blanket over her grandpa and smashed her hat down again. Grandpa had told her to never take it off in anybody’s presence, or they’d probably be able to guess she was a woman.
“You ready, Lee?”
“Doesn’t Grandpa need a hat to cover his eyes? Somehow his got lost when the horses ran off.”
“So, can’t you give him yours?” Josh suggested.
“No! Uh, it’s too small.” Rachel smashed the old felt hat tighter on her head. She held it down just in case Josh had any funny ideas about taking it away.
He squinted at her like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He looked past her to Grandpa, and his face exploded into that crazy grin. “Let it never be said that a Stafford refused to help an old man or a kid.” He doffed his hat, bowed stiffly, then walked over and handed it to Grandpa.
“Thanks,” Ian mumbled.
“Let’s mount up.” Josh picked up his horse’s reins.
“I’m walking next to Grandpa,” Rachel said.
Josh folded his arms across his chest. After a moment, he brushed a hand through his straight dark hair and sighed. “No, you’re not. We’ve got many miles to cover, and I don’t need you getting hurt, too.”
“Well, I can’t exactly ride on Emma with her carrying the pack and pulling Grandpa.”
Josh sighed. “You can ride with me.”
Rachel sucked in a breath and felt her eyes widen. She hadn’t even thought of that. Josh walked toward her as she shook her head.
“You’re not still scared of me, are you?”
She took a step back. Scared wasn’t the word she had in mind.
“The way you’re acting, you’d think I were Jesse James. Come on, we need to get going. We don’t have time for this nonsense.” Josh smashed his fists to his waist.
How could she sit all day, riding behind this stranger? Every man she’d ever spent time with in Dodge City had either asked her to marry him or tried to force himself on her. Even though she’d wanted so badly to be married and have a family, she’d never been able to get close to a man she liked. Now she was supposed to sit behind Joshua Stafford for two whole days.
She shook her head. “No. I’m walking next to Grandpa.”
Rachel turned and strode over to the travois. Grandpa lay there with Josh’s hat covering the top part of his face. She stiffened when she heard Josh’s footsteps behind her.
Quick as a flash of lightning, her feet left the ground. She clawed the air, grabbing hold of the back of Josh’s shirt as he flung her over his shoulder. Her stomach smashed hard against his solid shoulder, jarring her insides. One-handed, she grabbed for her hat as it flew off her head and flopped to the ground.
“Are you always so stubborn?” Josh’s breath, warm against her leg, sent frustrating tingles down her spine.
She could hear Grandpa’s muffled laugh from underneath Josh’s hat. The last thing she wanted was for Grandpa to side with this rugged hooligan. Rachel pummeled his back. “Put me down.”
“As you wish, your majesty.”
Rachel felt Josh suck in a deep breath. The next moment, she flew through the air, arms flailing, and landed on the back of his horse. She clawed the saddle horn to keep from falling, and both boots slipped off her feet from the jarring landing. Her chest heaved with anger and humiliation.
“Here, your majesty.”
Josh smacked her hat against her thigh. Rachel dared to glare down at him. Their gazes locked, and his self-confident smile evaporated into a confused frown. She quickly snatched her hat and slapped it back on her head. Disconcerted, she crossed her arms and pointedly looked away.
Josh tucked Lee’s boots in a corner of the supply pack. This way, he rationalized, he wouldn’t have to worry about them sliding off Lee’s feet all the time. He glanced at the pitiful excuse for boots. Never could he remember having to wear any that scruffy. What was the story behind them?
For the third time, Josh checked Emma’s lead rope. Firmly tied to his saddle, and with Lee’s leg anchoring it down, he felt certain it was secure. Josh glanced at Lee’s stiff back and the shoulder-length hair pulled back patriot style and tied with a leather strip. He could see why the kid wore that scruffy hat all the time. He knew some women in town who’d kill for curly golden hair like Lee’s. First thing after getting the boy cleaned up and fed would be a haircut.
Josh shook his head in an effort to rid it of the strange thoughts he’d been entertaining. With those long eyelashes and big brown eyes, the poor kid looked almost pretty enough to be a girl. All that would change, though, soon as he filled out and started growing whiskers.
No wonder he’d fought so well—probably had to in school. Josh could imagine the teasing the boy must have endured. He knew. Being the youngest of three boys, he always fell prey to his brothers’ pranks and schemes.
With Ian injured like he was, the pair would probably be around the ranch for several weeks. Maybe he could use the time to toughen up the kid.
Josh led Sultan over to a large boulder and climbed onto it so he could mount without knocking Lee off. He glanced up at the golden curls that had escaped the confines of Lee’s hat. Poor kid. He sighed, shaking his head. The saddle squeaked as he sat down in front of Lee. Sultan snorted and pawed the hard ground, anxious to be on the way.
Josh shook his head. Too bad the kid doesn’t have an older sister. If she had his wavy wheat-colored hair and big brown doelike eyes, I’d be a goner.