Page 19 of The Outlaw and the Heir

"You had no reason to tell us what the other two could do well. You were just being given the chance to do something other than what you have been doing."

I snorted. “You mean, shoveling a lot of animal shit."

His brow furrowed. “You too good for that?"

As bizarre as it might have sounded, especially to someone like him, his prickly nature was becoming endearing and not just amusing with a dose of irritation. It reminded me of the small cactus my mother had found while shopping in town years ago and had studiously listened to the merchant to learn how to care for it. The thing hadn’t been much bigger than a chicken's egg when she brought it home, but she’d doted on it, and against all odds, considering how cold and cloudy it could be, it had thrived.

So I supposed if you took a small cactus and applied it to a man who was as tall as we were, with a sour expression, and the mind of a moody child, then I could stretch myself to see the comparison. That little cactus pricked my mother more than once, no matter how much care she took. And so it seemed, no matter what you said or did, Ambrose would huff, puff, and growl to show his spines.

His eyes narrowed. “What?"

"Nothing," I said with a wave of my hand, fighting to keep the image of the little potted plant out of my head as I looked at him.

Thankfully, I was spared needing to elaborate by the presence of a wet nose shoved into my arm. I looked down and smiled. “Well, hi there, Bear."

The dog gave a low huff that could have been a growl, shoving his face into my stomach. I had come to learn it was a 'polite request' for more attention. He wasn't the prettiest of beasts, but the affable spirit of his kind was strong in him. Bear, or more specifically, his behavior, was one of the things on a short list that made Ambrose less of a dickhead than normal.

I knew enough about dogs to know that even the sweetest beasts could turn mean or sullen if they weren't treated right. Bear, however, followed Ambrose, not out of obligation or command, but with the happiest look on his face. He was friendly and gentle, both willing to use his deep bark to scare a calf that kept trying to fight its siblings and use his jaws to gently pry a lamb out of a hole while it bleated pitifully. Ambrose was grumpy, prideful, and a demanding foreman, but if his dog loved him without reservation or the slightest fear, then he wasn't the worst sort.

"Bear," Ambrose rumbled in warning.

"He's not doing anything wrong," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's not his fault he has good taste in men."

Ambrose gave a huff. “He's trying to butter you up, so you'll give him food."

"That's okay too," I said with a small laugh. "If I had something you could have, I'd give it to you, Bear. You're probably best waiting until dinner to scrounge up something, or maybe go back to the Big House and see if you can't give a sad face to someone with some bacon or ham."

Bear, however, seemed perfectly content as he dropped his butt down and left his head in my lap. Chuckling, I stroked hisbroad head and let him stay there even though he was going to make me hotter than I already was from the day's work.

"Fool dog," Ambrose muttered into his bowl. He tried his best to sound annoyed, but his attempts were swiftly thwarted when Bear dragged his tail happily through the dirt in response to his master's voice.

"Most dogs are fools," I said fondly. "They're a good lesson for the rest of us."

"What do you mean?"

"Pick your lesson. It could be how faithful, loving, and forgiving they are when people can't do the same, even so-called God-fearing Christians. It could be that they have a good sense for other people, and we could learn to listen to our instincts more. Or maybe it's just that they might be fools, but that doesn't mean they're worth nothing. We love them anyway."

"I was gonna say they're bed hogs," Ambrose said.

Of course, he slept with the dog he grumbled about all the time. Maybe there was a softy of some sort under all those prickly spines. "There is that."

He looked up. “Anyway?—"

I sighed, suddenly weary of the interrogation coming back around when it felt like maybe we were moving on. "I'll tell you what. You ask me a question, and I'll answer it honestly. No smart comment, no jokes, no avoiding. I’ll just answer it."

"One question?"

"One. Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll treat you to another."

"You always?—"

"Have to be a smart mouth, I know. Now, your question. Pick one."

He stared at me for a moment and then surprised me with, “You a Christian?"

I knew the surprise showed on my face as I leaned back for a moment and then snorted. “No."

"So you don't believe? You one of those folks that fell into those heathen thoughts?"

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