Page 15 of Texas Splendor
“I had other things on my mind.” He brought the cup to his lips and peered over the rim at the woman sitting across from him. She was sprinkling sugar over her porridge. A corner of his mouth curved up. He thought she might save time if she simply poured the porridge into the sugar bowl.
Having known so few women in his life, he’d developed an appreciation for them, an appreciation that even Becky’s betrayal couldn’t diminish. He had no memory of his mother. Houston’s wife—Amelia—was the first woman to whom he’d ever really spoken. He’d always liked the way she listened, as though she truly thought he had something of importance to share. He’d even played his violin for her when he’d never dared to play it for anyone else. Then Becky Oliver had moved to town, and Austin had thought she was an angel—his angel. As much as he wanted to hate her, he only seemed capable of missing her.
“Other than building you a new barn, what can I do to repay your kindness?” he asked abruptly, more harshly than he’d intended, memories of Becky tainting his mood.
Her head shot up, her delicate brows drawn together over eyes mired with confusion. “I think you ought to spend the day resting and gathering your strength.”
“I need to see to my horse.”
“I fed and brushed him this morning.”
“And washed my clothes and polished my boots. Good Lord, don’t you ever stop doing?”
She dropped her gaze to the remaining porridge. “I like to keep busy.” She rose to her feet, picked up the bowl and cup, and carried them to the sink.
“My apologies, Miss Grant. I had no cause to take out my frustration on you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
But it did matter, more so because she thought it didn’t. Austin scraped his chair back and stood. She spun around, the wariness back in her eyes.
“I don’t doubt you took good care of my horse, but I want to check on him anyway.” He walked out of the house. The dog bounded across the yard and leapt up on Austin’s chest, his huge paws wet and muddy. Austin scratched him behind the ears. “If you’re her protector, you need to do a better job of protecting her from me.”
The dog fell to all fours and gazed up at him as though measuring his worth. Then he barked and scampered away to chase a butterfly.
Austin strode into the barn. Sunlight streamed through the holes. Black Thunder knickered. He rubbed the stallion’s nose. “So she’s taking good care of you, too, is she?”
He glanced around the run-down structure. Severed and ragged at the end, a rope hung from a beam. He wondered what kept a lone woman living here. Why didn’t she pack up and move into town? He had been teasing her when he’d mentioned repairing the barn, but he wasn’t certain he could chop enough wood to repay his debt.
He retrieved a rope halter that was hanging on the wall and slipped it onto Black Thunder before leading the stallion into the sunshine. At the corral, he bent and brought the horse’s foreleg up between his knees. He studied the festering wound and wondered if his back had looked this nasty when Miss Grant had tended it.
Releasing the foreleg, he knew he wouldn’t be traveling today. He looked toward the house. The dog had either captured the butterfly or given up because he was stretched out beneath the shade of a distant tree. A weakness settled in Austin’s legs. It galled him to have to admit Loree may have been right—he wasn’t quite recovered.
He ambled to the tree. Always watchful, the dog opened an eye and closed it. A flash of yellow caught Austin’s attention and he shifted his gaze. He leaned against the rough tree trunk. A strange sense of contentment stole over him as he watched Loree stand in the middle of a vegetable garden with a fawn nibbling something out of her cupped palm. Three other deer tore up the growing foliage. A family, he mused, and discontentment edged the peacefulness aside.
“I could string up some barbed wire for you,” he said.
The deer bounded into the thick grove of trees. Loree turned, her lightly golden brows drawn tightly together. “Why would I need barbed wire?”
“To protect your garden. Keep the pesky critters away.”
She looked toward the trees where the deer had disappeared. “They aren’t pesky, and I always grow more than I need.” She walked toward him, eyeing him suspiciously. “How are you feeling?”
Like he’d fallen from his horse, caught his foot in the stirrup, and been dragged across the state.
“A little tired. Do you have any kerosene? My horse’s hoof is festering. I need to tend it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to check his hoof.”
“You shouldn’t have to be concerned with my horse at all.”
Or with me.He’d shown her far more of himself than he wanted her to see. She was a stranger, but he had disconcerting memories of telling her things …
He followed her into the house and retrieved his knife from his saddlebag while she found the kerosene. By the time he returned outside, she was waiting beside Black Thunder, stroking the horse’s mane.
Stepping away from the stallion, she dropped her gaze to the knife Austin held. “Do you want me to hold his head?”
“It’s not necessary. He’s trained.” Giving the horse his backside, he brought the hoof up between his knees and dug the knife into the wound. He heard a whinny just before the sharp pain ricocheted through his butt. He dropped the hoof and jumped away from the horse. “Son of a—! Damn!”
