Page 11 of Brian and Cora
“My friend’s rather reclusive.”
“He can post a letter when he’s ready. I’ll send the pup to Sweetwater Springs with El Davis, the teamster.”
“That should work.” Tucking Sassy Girl under his arm, Brian carefully stood and tiptoed around the others who tried to paw his legs. With his free hand, he pulled a dollar from his pocket and handed over the money.
Junger tied the rope around the puppy’s neck, careful not to tighten the makeshift collar too much and ensuring that the knot wouldn’t slip, before giving Brian a stern look.
He could almost read the man’s mind. “I’ll take good care of your Sassy Girl. You have my word on it.” He reached out a hand to shake.
A smile broke out over Junger’s face, and he almost lunged to take Brian’s hand, pumping it up and down. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”
Brian crouched to lower Sassy Girl to the ground, giving her head and ears a fondle. “Ready for your next adventure?”
Wagging her tail, she looked up at him with an expression that seemed to say, “What are we waiting for?”
With a nod goodbye to Junger, Brian and Sassy Girl plunged into the stream of meandering people. Deciding to skip the other aisles of booths, Brian headed toward the animal pens.
The puppy trotted beside him, sometimes stopping, and once winding around his legs, the rope almost tripping him. The breeze brought the smell of pigs. She pulled ahead, trying to make a beeline for them, and wouldn’t be deterred by him pulling on the rope.
“Whoa, Sass! Someone needs to learn manners.” Best avoid the pigs.
Instead, he half guided, half gently pulled Sassy Girl toward the temporary corral, holding the miniature horses with the fancy-sounding Spanish name of Falabellas.
Argentine miniature horses. Now that sounds like a good story. Unfortunately, not one he could put in a book. That idea would go over ’bout as well as a female sheriff. He could just see the scathing letter from his editor cutting any mention of midget horses.
Children lined up at the gate to pay a penny to enter and spend time with the endearing creatures. They practically vibrated with eagerness to go inside, where they’d be carefully supervised by older children from the families who owned the Falabellas.
He saw the youth guarding the gate talking with the Blackfoot blacksmith, Chogan Redwolf, the Indian no doubt deputized for today. The sheriff tended to call on him for support whenever she had need of an extra lawman.
Brian moved closer, letting Sassy Girl sniff the ground around them. He’d seen the Falabellas pulling small buggies once before but from a distance. He found himself just as fascinated as the children by the miniature horses and wished he could go inside. Wouldn’t that be a sight? A grown man amid the children.
This close, he could see the obvious love the young owners felt for their minis and how patiently they interacted with each child, answering questions, giving gentle directions, and allowing them to pet and hug the Falabellas.
If he was a child, he’d want one of the little horses. Heck, he was twenty-eight, and he still wanted one.
Jewel would love a Falabella. He stood there observing, capturing what he saw in a description that would appeal to Torin. Of course, the man wouldn’t descend from the mountain to do his negotiating. But Brian would be willing to stand in his stead.
There were other parents watching their offspring, and from their expressions and some excited talk, he could tell he wasn’t the only one interested in purchasing a little horse.
“There’s a waiting list,” he heard one man say. “And you have to put half the money up front.”
He wondered how long the list was and how many years it might take for Jewel to have her foal. He thought of Torin’s fears of his daughter’s early death—something Brian refused to think about. He dearly hoped life wouldn’t be so cruel for Jewel to die before having time to play with a puppy and a little horse.
He’d learned not to dwell on the past or think much about the future. Don’t take any minute with her for granted.
He brought his attention back to these children—to the joy on all their faces. Some, thinner and more shabbily dressed than the others, probably had harder lives. But all of them had this magical time to play with horses straight out of a fairy tale. This is an experience they’ll always cherish.
I think I could belong here.
Like a blow, the certainty punched into his gut. He’d been in a drunken brawl once when he was young and foolish and took a strike to his stomach. Broke some ribs. Only this time, the hit came from his insides, and he quickly repudiated the thought.
I don’t belong anywhere. I’ve chosen not to belong anywhere.
CHAPTER 5
Despite the heavily falling rain, Cora set out for one last visit with Ivy before she and Rose left for Montana tomorrow. Her friend only lived four blocks away—a nice stroll on a fine autumn day.
But this morning, the wind slanted rain under her umbrella, and gusts threatened to jerk the handle from her hands. Her reticule dangled from her wrist, the bag sometimes hitting her chest as she moved. Her sodden shoes squelched with every step, and the heavy, wet hem of her skirt threatened to tangle around her feet and trip her.
