“No, I’m just passing through with a cattle drive,” he said. “We’re taking the boss’s herd all the way to Montana.”
“Goodness, that sounds like an adventure,” she said. “If I’d been born a boy, I’d sign up and go with you.”
“Driving cattle is hard, dirty work. And I’m really glad you weren’t born a boy. I like you fine just the way you are.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Except for his sisters, he didn’t know much about talking to girls. Especially classy girls like Sarah.
She walked with him in silence for a moment. “I never thanked you for rushing to my rescue,” she said. “You risked your life for me. I’d like a chance to repay you. Would you let me buy our lunch?”
Relief was like a cloud lifting. But he didn’t want to appear too eager. “Well, I don’t know about that, you being a lady and all,” Joe said. “But if you’re sure, and if it won’t be a hardship . . .”
“Oh, please let me,” she said. “When my uncle sent me money for the trip, he gave me extra for meals. I can certainly afford to treat you.”
“Then thank you.” Joe’s step lightened. This had to be his lucky day. But he made a silent vow that when he got paid at the end of the drive, he would set money aside so that he would never be embarrassed by empty pockets again.
The waiter seated them in an out-of-the-way corner of the restaurant. Joe suspected it was because of the way he looked, with his trail-worn clothes, battered face, and swollen eye. But that didn’t matter because he was with the prettiest girl in the room, maybe the prettiest girl in Dodge City.
He ordered the cheapest item on the menu—a plain cheese sandwich. Someday, he promised himself, when he had money, he would put on a fine suit, find Miss Sarah Foxworth, wherever she might be, and buy her dinner in an elegant restaurant.
“You mentioned that you had to be back on the train,” he said. “Where did you come from, and where are you headed?”
“That’s a long story.” She gave her chicken soup a moment to cool. “I was raised by my grandmother in a little town this side of Kansas City. She passed away last month. Now I’m going to live with her brother. He’s a doctor in Ogallala, Nebraska.”
“But how are you getting to Ogallala? There’s no railroad going north from here, and the country between is pretty rough. I know because that’s the way we’ll be driving the herd.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “I’ll be taking the train from here to Pueblo and then another train to Denver. My great-uncle will be meeting me there. We’ll spend a couple of days in the city, then catch a different train back to Ogallala.”
“I’ve never even ridden on a train,” Joe said. “What’s it like?”
“It’s about like the way you described driving cattle—noisy and dirty and uncomfortable—especially if you’re riding third class. I’ll be glad when the trip’s over.”
“But hey, you’ll likely be in Ogallala when we get there with the herd. If the boss will let me go to town, maybe I could stop by and see you.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Joe feared he’d said too much. He was nothing but a poor, barely educated cowboy without a cent to his name. Why should a classy girl whose uncle was a doctor want to see any more of him?
Her smile deepened the dimples in her cheeks. “When you come—and I hope you will—just ask someone for directions to Dr. Blake’s house.”
“If you see cattle with a triple C brand, and a boss named Benteen Calder, you’ll know we’ve arrived.”
Joe was still walking on air when he escorted Sarah back to the train station. He was already counting the weeks until the cattle drive reached Ogallala, a railhead town that would be the last chance to rest the herd and the men and to stock up on supplies before the long push to Montana.
Somehow he would find a way to see Sarah again. This time, even if he had to beg Benteen Calder for an advance or take extra shifts, he would make sure he had enough money to take her out.
Her train was waiting next to the platform. Joe helped her mount the steps and passed her the carpetbag. He felt the weight of it as he lifted it into