Silver Creek - G.L. Snodgrass Page 0,18
on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheeks. “You better come home tomorrow. I just got you back and I don’t want to lose you again.”
He stared down into her eyes. The silver moonlight letting her see something deep in his eyes. Her knees grew week with the realization that he was looking at her like a man looks at a woman.
“I promise you, Becky. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
Her heart soared, that could mean so many things. Was he talking about her ranch? Or did he mean more. God, please, she thought. Mean more.
He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Now go inside, Miss Johnson. The night is getting cooler and you didn’t bring a shawl.”
Her heart melted as she reluctantly removed her hand from his then turned for the door to her small shack. Just before she stepped inside, she looked back over her shoulder to see him watching her. A strange expression on his face. A mix of want and fear with a touch of surprise.
She smiled at him before closing the door behind her only to lean against it and sigh heavily. Her world had changed in so many ways. She was in love with Luke Parker and always had been.
Chapter Eight
The sun was barely up when Luke kicked at the foot of the stableman sleeping in the back stall of the livery stable.
“Need to buy a horse,” he told the man.
Opening one eye, the man grunted as he forced himself up. “They’re out back.”
“Looked them over. I’ll take the big roan.”
The liveryman’s other eye opened, “You know horse flesh. Most don’t see it.”
Luke laughed as he took off his cavalry hat and nodded at it. “I’ve worn out more britches than boots over the last few years.”
The man laughed as he left to get the horse.
“Need a saddle also.”
“A cowpoke took out a loan on his,” the liveryman yelled from the corral. “But it’s been two years. I don’t reckon he’s coming back. You can have it for ten dollars.”
Luke nodded. It would be good to get back into a stockman’s saddle instead of the calvary version he’d been forced to use.
When the liveryman led the big roan into the stables, Luke greeted the horse with a gentle pat before running his hand down its flank to check its hocks. Satisfied, he inspected the beast’s teeth. Two, maybe three-years- old as he’d suspected.
Leaning back, he looked into the horse's eyes and smiled when he saw the hint of intelligence he preferred in his horses.
“I’ll take him.”
Once he’d paid off the liveryman and had the horse saddled, he rode out into the street in time to see Rebecca and Helen walking to the restaurant.
Helen smiled up at him as he tipped his hat. Becky stared up at him with a strange look that he couldn’t read.
“I should be back before the evening meal,” he told them, hoping that Becky would stop being upset at him.
Helen smiled. “Be sure you get there before the stage comes in or the cobbler will be gone.”
Luke laughed, tipped his hat again, then pulled the roan around to find Bill Carver. But as he did, he saw a look of regret and worry flash behind Becky’s eyes. It was the kind of look that ripped a hole in his heart. He hated seeing her unhappy, it made the world feel off. But riding out to Felton’s couldn’t be ignored.
He found Carver outside the Red House saloon waiting for him. It was surprising the cowboy was up and about. The man’s face was a mishmash of blue bruises. The hangdog look and the way he winced at every loud noise said he’d tied one on the night before. But that didn’t stop him from glancing over at Luke and shaking his head. Obviously, he believed he was watching a fool walking into a mistake.
“You sure about this?” Carver said. “Just so you know. I ride for the brand. Don’t count on any help from me when we get there.”
Luke scoffed and shook his head. “This is all mine.”
Carver shrugged and led the way out of town up a back trail and up out of the valley. As they rode, Luke studied the land. Sagebrush intermingled with grass. Rocky outcrops coming down off the hills. Occasional springs that had been dug out to make water holes. Good cattle country.
“Circle B run all this range?” he asked.
Carver nodded. “From the far mountains.”
“Johnson must have been