Page 12 of A Dangerous Heart
She didn’t look away. Not like the rest of his family did when they came face-to-face with him. No, she held his stare, a silent challenge pulsing between them. He tried to go around her again.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. “Drew and the other men are already gone.”
He crossed his arms as she rushed on.
“I’m preparing to cook tonight’s meal. Nick mentioned you like a good hot stew at the end of the day.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll eat whatever’s in the pot.” Irked that his brother was wagging his tongue to her about his food preferences, he added, “If I’m around.”
For a split second, her nostrils flared. Before he could blink, that sweet smile returned.
“I’ve searched the chuck wagon five times. There’s no salt pork or beans. Your family is going to come back to camp hungry.”
He sighed. “Kaitlyn’s been tired lately—probably forgot to pack it.” He pulled his hat off and clawed his hair back, racking his brain for a solution, but nothing came. He shoved his hat back on his head.
“I’ve gone through everything. Rearranged a bit.”
It looked to him like she’d rearranged more than a bit. He’d never seen the wagon so neat and tidy.
“Like I said in my letters I sent you, I’m a good cook, but even I can’t make stew without some kind of meat.” A teasing smile offered him camaraderie. He didn’t want it.
“You didn’t send me any letters,” he said coldly. “You said you were used to being on the trail. You’ll have to figuresomething out.” He stepped past her and strode out of the camp but couldn’t stop himself from glancing back.
She stood watching him, scrutinizing him through narrowed eyes.
Clare Ferguson was a burr under his saddle.
He ruthlessly jerked his thoughts from her as he untied the steer and pointed the animal down toward the main herd, where David and Eli worked to corral the animals in a loose group. From his position at the top of the ridge, he saw movement across the river. The water divided the McGraws’ land from their nearest neighbor—Heath Quade. Only a sliver of Quade’s newly acquired property near the railroad spur touched the river, hardly enough water for the cattle he aimed to run. Quade had feuded with Pa almost since he’d moved to Converse County. The feud had spilled over into his sons’ lives.
Isaac squinted. Sure was a lot of activity. The river was a fair distance from Quade’s barn and ranch house. What were they doing? He leaned down and reached for his field glasses in his saddlebag—only to come to himself and remember. He wasn’t a marshal anymore.
He straightened in the saddle. He might not have a badge, but his job was to protect his family. He’d been at the winter cabin when the well had been poisoned at the ranch. Been isolated when Kaitlyn had been kidnapped a few months ago. Quade would not have a third go at harming his family. Not on his watch. He would check on the activity as soon as he could.
As Isaac rode in, a shrill whistle pierced the air. Nick, his dog Patch, and a herd of black and brown cattle, twice the size Isaac had managed to gather, poured down a neighboring hill. Drew drove another herd up a ravine from the opposite direction.
A blur of white, tan, and black wove around and between the moving cattle. Patch had more vigor than the three brothers combined.
“You good?” his kid brother called across the chaos.
He nodded.Better than you.The teasing words he would’ve once said got trapped behind his sternum. Nick frowned.
“It looks like your dog is a better cowpoke than you,” Drew hollered to Nick from across the herd.
“That’s my plan,” he called back. “Patch makes my job easier.” A smug grin lit up his face.
The cows moved along to join the herd, and that left the brothers riding side by side.
“You may have finally beat Isaac’s roundup record,” Drew said, tipping his hat back.
As they approached the camp, Isaac saw one of the boys, Ben, in the driver’s seat of the chuck wagon. There were no animals hitched to it, but the boy was playing like he was driving the contraption. Clare neared, adjusted the reins in the boy’s grip, and kissed his cheek. A wide smile split the boy’s face.
“She drives a wagon like she was born to it, wouldn’t ya say?” Nick prompted.
Was the offhand comment meant for him? Isaac ignored it.
Drew didn’t. “Seems to know her way around a chuck wagon. Good with those boys too. I haven’t seen David so excited for a roundup in a while.”
Expectation hung in the air, but Isaac remained silent. They dismounted, the horses as dusty and tired as their riders.
