Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [70]
“I know how to ride bareback.”
He slowly straightened. “And how in the blazes do you know how to do that?”
The moon had come out from behind the clouds, offering plenty of light to see her shrug. “My brother, the only boy in our family, died when I was eleven. My father was inconsolable. Told me he wished I were a boy. So I vowed I would be. Then I set out to do everything LaVerne had.”
He pursed his lips. That explained a lot. “And LaVerne rode bareback?”
“LaVerne did a lot of things.”
He made another stirrup with his hands. “Well, come on, then. Up you go.”
She glanced at the float. “We’re just going to leave it here?”
Sighing, he straightened again. “What did you think we were going to do?”
“I don’t know. Guard it?”
“Nobody’s guarding anything. Whoever was wanting to sabotage your float—if there even was anyone—will check your place and maybe the immediate vicinity before getting discouraged and giving up. No one will come looking for it out here. Now, come on.”
She nibbled her lip. “What if they happen upon it by accident?”
“Georgie.” He heard the strain in his voice.
“I can’t just leave it out here.” She tugged her cap down. “Maybe we should make some scarecrows.”
“Scarecrows.”
“Yes. Then if someone does poke around, they’ll think the thing is being guarded and won’t bother it.”
“You have nothing to make them with. No hay. No poles. No men’s clothing.”
“Then I’ll stand guard myself.”
He fisted his hands. “With what? You don’t have your broom.”
“Then take me home and I’ll get my broom.”
Over my dead body, he thought.
She fit her boot into his hand and swung on. Blustering, Honey Dew shied at the feel of a saddleless rider.
Shushing the animal, she leaned over and stroked its neck. “Hand me the reins, please.”
“Not likely,” he mumbled, and began leading the horse toward home.
Though the soft grassy ground absorbed Honey Dew’s clomps, it didn’t completely silence them.
“You can’t go back there, Georgie.”
She said nothing.
“I mean it. If someone wants to retaliate for the trouble you’ve caused over the birds, and they catch you out at night alone, no telling what would happen.”
“They don’t frighten me.”
“They should.” He wondered at her father’s admonition she be a boy. What a great bunch of foolishness. He glanced over his shoulder. She appeared to be relaxed atop the horse, but being walked while astride was a great deal different than riding bareback.
“So what else did LaVerne do?” he asked.
She sighed. “Well, he climbed trees. He studied Latin, Greek, and mathematics. He jumped hurdles with his horse. He rafted across rivers. All kinds of things.”
He shook his head. “You telling me you’ve done all those things, too?”
“Once or twice.”
“Yet you plan to defend the float with a broomstick.”
“It’s the only thing I have.”
“What about a gun?”
“LaVerne didn’t shoot guns.”
He scanned the area in front of them. He’d never heard of a boy who didn’t shoot guns. “You’re from Texas, right?”
“All my life.”
“Then why didn’t your brother shoot?”
“He just didn’t care for the sport, I guess. I don’t know.”
He thought about her living in that cottage all by herself with nothing but a broomstick for protection. “When Maifest is over, I’m teaching you to shoot a gun.”
“No, thank you. I don’t care to—”
“Shhh.” He pulled up short, cocking an ear. “Somebody’s coming.”
“I don’t hear—”
Tossing the reins over Honey Dew’s head, he swung up behind Georgie. “Hang on.”
He dug into the horse’s sides. It was probably a group of kids with their Mai trees in tow, but even still, he had no wish to be caught with a female in britches. If they recognized her, not only would her reputation be in shreds, she’d lose her job. SWT&T held high standards for their employees—particularly the women.
Clinging to the shadows as best he could, he kept them at a trot and on the road. The last thing he wanted was for Honey Dew to twist an ankle. With each of the mare’s strides, he and Georgie bounced, rising and