McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [61]
He rode at the front of the party, with Rafe alongside, back straight and head high, like a king about to conquer a rebellious country.
“You doin’ all right, Miss Lorelei?” John Cavanagh called kindly from the seat of his wagon. Sorrowful rode with him, tongue lolling contentedly as he surveyed the countryside.
Lorelei managed a taut smile—it still took all her concentration to ride, since she was so new at the enterprise—and nodded. It wouldn’t do to let Mr. Cavanagh know she envied the dog, and would have traded places if it were feasible.
He seemed to read her mind. “We’ve still got a long way to go before this day is done, if I know Holt. Maybe you ought to ride with me a while. I could stop and tie the mule behind.”
Lorelei looked ahead, to Holt. He thought she was unfit for a cattle drive, he’d made that plain enough; her riding with Mr. Cavanagh, blissful respite though it would surely be, would only prove him right. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “But thank you kindly.”
They’d traveled miles when a stream appeared, shimmering like a river of silver in the near distance, and Holt raised a hand to signal that they’d be stopping there. Lorelei suffered no illusions that he was giving mere humans a chance to rest—most likely, he was concerned about the livestock.
The banks of the stream were grassy, and probably softened by the recent rains. Lorelei slid from Seesaw’s back and felt a jolt of pain as the balls of her feet made contact with the ground. She rested her forehead against the side of the saddle and closed her eyes until the worst of it passed.
Something bumped her arm, and she turned to see Rafe standing beside her, offering a canteen and an understanding smile.
She took it with a murmur of thanks, and drank deeply of the clean, cool water.
“You ought to ride in the wagon for a while,” he said quietly.
Lorelei betrayed her thoughts by glancing in Holt’s direction. He was crouched beside the water, conferring with one of the cowboys. “No,” she said, feeling a surge of heat rise into her cheeks.
“Might be better for your pride to smart a little,” Rafe ventured, “than your legs and…other parts. It’s going to be a long time until we make camp for the night. You’re bound to be sore as all get out, this being your first real ride.”
Tears of fatigue and frustration burned behind Lorelei’s eyes, but she’d be damned if she’d let them show. She took another long draught from the canteen and then wiped her mouth with the back of one hand, the way she’d seen the cowboys do. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. McKettrick,” she said. “I can keep up just fine.”
“Rafe,” he said. A grin quirked at one corner of his mouth. “I figure you and I ought to be friends, since I’m the one who ironed out the kinks in your mule.”
Lorelei laughed, despite the numbness in her limbs and the ferocious ache in the lower part of her back. She felt as though her spine would crumble into powder at any moment, and the big predawn breakfast Tillie and Melina had served up back at the ranch had long since worn off. Her stomach seemed as empty as a windswept canyon.
“I can’t argue with that…Rafe,” she said. “You might as well call me Lorelei.”
He turned to glance at Holt, and Holt looked up at the same moment.
His expression was unreadable, but something unsettling passed between the two men before Holt’s gaze shifted to Lorelei. He stood, then started toward them.
“I reckon I’ll check Chief’s hooves and make sure he hasn’t picked up a stone along the way,” Rafe said, but, curiously, he didn’t move from Lorelei’s side.
Facing them, Holt took off his hat with one hand and pushed the fingers of the other through his hair. “Change your mind yet, Miss Fellows?” he drawled.
Lorelei planted her feet, much the way Seesaw had, just before Rafe took the saddle that morning. “About what?”
Holt’s smile didn’t reach those watchful hazel eyes of his. “It’s a long way to Mexico,” he said. “Time we get there, you might just be bowlegged.”
Anger rushed through Lorelei’s system like heat through a teakettle ready to boil. “Don’t you worry about my legs,