Page 8 of Boston
“Just fine, ma’am.” He leaned in and let her sweep a kiss along his cheek. “I’ve got your horses ready if you want to get mounted up.” He glanced over to Darren, a tough, weathered cowboy who stood like he rode a horse when he didn’t. “Who would you like today, sir? I’ve got Dolphin or Goldie.”
And he could grab the stool to help the older gentleman get in the saddle on the way by the barn door.
“No Cora yet?” Mae shaded her eyes with her hand and looked down the lane that led to the family dwellings.
“She likes Goldie,” Darren said in a raspy, overused voice. “I’ll take Dolphin.”
Boston nodded, his throat tight and dry for a reason he couldn’t name. He walked slowly with Darren, grabbing the stool along the way, over to where Kat still stood with the dark gray equine.
“Morning, Grandad,” she chirped, and Boston took a moment to consult his list again. Firewood, check. Lighting kit, yes. Food, got it. Water, mm-hm. He had the right horses saddled, and chairs tied to saddlebags. He had a first aid kit, emergency blankets, anything and everything he’d need.
“I’ll help him,” Kat said, and she took the stool from Boston and positioned it next to Dolphin. Boston stayed close in case they needed help, but Darren held Kat’s hand tightly and made it up the first step, then the second, and then into the saddle.
Relief poured through him, and he turned just as Mae called his name. “Come meet my daughter,” she said, obvious pride riding in her voice.
Boston looked from her to the woman who’d arrived while he’d had his back turned, and sure enough, he found himself approaching the gorgeous, dark-haired woman who’d shook her hands and cried for only a moment yesterday.
Her eyes met his and narrowed. Then she sucked in a breath, those pretty eyes widened, and she turned as stiff as a board. So she recognized him too.
“Mae, Cotton’s ready for you,” Jeremy said, and Mae turned to go with her son-in-law.
That left Cora and Boston to themselves, and he stopped a professional and appropriate distance from her. “Hey there,” he said easily. “It looks like you did find your way back.”
Cora blinked at him and said nothing.
“I’m Boston Simpson,” he said. “I’m going to be your trail guide today, and it was almost a drag-down fight with your granddad, but I managed to secure Goldie for you.” He grinned and turned halfway away from her, indicating where the pale yellow horse still stood, riderless.
“Do you need?—?”
Cora pressed into his side, effectively rendering him mute. She wore a pair of blue jeans that seemed glued to her skin, a violet tank top that made her coloring all the darker, and a hint of menace in her voice as she said, “If you say anything about what happened yesterday—anythingat all—I will make sure you get the worst job here.”
Boston ducked his head to look at her, but she didn’t look back at him. “No problem,” he said.
“And donotoffer to help me onto that horse,” she said. She did look at him then, and Boston found the determination and challenge in her expression. “I can do it myself.”
“I’m sure you can,” he said, though his heartbeat positively pounded through his veins. He wasn’t sure if that was because of Cora’s threat and harsh tone or because of the insane way his brain and body had combined against him in pure mutiny.
For all he could think was,Get her number. Ask her out. She’s pretty. You like her.
She moved away from him then, her demeanor changing on a dime when she arrived near her sister and grandfather. All Boston could do was stare after her, wishing he had one rational cell in his body to remind all the others that Cora Silver was his new boss.
Why did everyone keep forgetting that? How couldhehave forgotten it?
“Boston,” Mae called as Cora swung into the saddle. She did just fine, though Boston did see a small stutter at both the beginning and the end. “I think we’re ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Boston shoved the paper in his back pocket and prayed with everything he had that he hadn’t forgotten anything. Then he too swung into his saddle, grinned around at all the Silvers and added, “Let’s head out.”
He didn’t dare glance at Cora as he inched Coach past her. Instead, he doubled down on the prayer, now begging God that nothing would go wrong on this trail ride.
Oh, and it sure would be nice if the Lord could open the door for Boston to spend a little more time with Cora.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Cora glanced around, taking in the enormity of the forest, the mountains, the sky. Her gaze came back to the horizon, then immediately jogged over to Boston Simpson.
Of course, she thought bitterly.
