the same suggestion?
“Trust me, gal, I’d be the worst Amish man ever. I’ve been riding a horse way too long to start hitching up wagons or buggies now. ” He shook his head, still chuckling.
“Still,” she persisted, “some do convert to Amish. It is a good life, a peaceful life.”
The sideways look he gave her held a touch of sympathy. “I know what you’re thinking, gal.” His eyes softened. “He won’t do it. Even when he gives up the trail, he doesn’t have it in him to give up the life of a cowboy.”
He sounded so certain, so sympathetic, that Emma’s eyes stung with barely restrained tears. She couldn’t muster a reply, and instead fixed her gaze on the remuda, which Vic had stopped beyond the two wagons. Luke was there now, changing his saddle from Bo to a fresh horse.
He does have it in him. If he loves me, he will do it for me.
She managed a noncommittal nod for Griff and then kneed Sugarfoot forward. There were only a few hours left between now and the time they turned the herd over to the agency in Hays. She had to talk to him before then.
But when she reined Sugarfoot to a halt beside Luke, his greeting wasn’t as warm as she had hoped. A smile brushed across his lips but failed to stay in place. His gaze lit on her face briefly but then swept the landscape behind her.
“I hope the ride wasn’t too long for you. You did a great job. Thanks.” He bent down to fasten the cinch strap beneath the horse.
How does he know if I did a good job or a bad one? He hasn’t looked at me all day.
The thought almost shot out of her mouth, but she bit it back. “I was hoping to talk to you alone, but you never came back to ride with me.”
“Yeah? Well, I have a minute right now before I leave.” He kept working as he spoke, his eyes fixed on his hands.
“Leave?” Sugarfoot pranced sideways when she stiffened in the saddle. “You are leaving?”
“While the cattle eat their fill, I need to ride ahead into Hays to let them know we’re here and check on the train. It’ll take a couple of hours.”
He straightened, but the face he turned up to her wore the polite expression of someone whose mind was elsewhere. Emma’s words knotted in her throat. The kind, searching eyes of the Luke she loved had grown distant since this morning.
“What did you want to talk about?”
The sound of hooves from behind announced someone’s approach. She glanced back to see Papa riding toward them, his gaze fixed on her. He halted his horse directly beside her. Luke glanced at him and then turned back to the horse to check the position of the cinch straps.
“Emma, Maummi has need of you and Rebecca to help with the cooking. I will care for your horse.”
How did he know what Maummi needed? He’d just come in from the rear of the herd, where he’d been all day. She glanced toward the camp, where her grandmother knelt before Jesse’s chair, checking on his leg.
He is trying to separate me from Luke.
Knots tightened in her middle, and she had to bite back a frustrated retort. Though her lips were clenched shut against disrespectful words, she didn’t bother to school the resentful glance she turned on Papa. He returned it calmly, without the slightest sign of backing down.
Finally, she lowered her head. “Yes, Papa.”
She swung out of the saddle and landed a little unsteadily on the ground before placing the reins in her father’s hand. With one last longing glance at Luke, who did not look up, she headed toward the wagon to help her grandmother.
But she did stomp puffs of dirt with every frustrated step.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The main street of Hays bustled with activity. Down the center of the wide street lay a long stretch of railroad tracks, with train cars lined up from the edge of town past the stockyards. On the south side of the tracks the train depot stretched almost the full block. The buildings that lined the north side had all been built in recent years, since fire had destroyed much of Hays a few years back.
Not much had changed since Luke’s visit the previous year, when he’d ridden point for Pa in a drive from Laredo. Lively music poured from the open doors and windows of a handful of saloons and gaming houses, none of