through the house, he found it just as he’d left it, filthy. It had to be his imagination, but the smell of whiskey seemed to linger in the air. More to use up energy than out of any need to clean the place, Rowdy opened all the doors and windows and swept a layer of topsoil out of the house.
At sunset he pulled his bedroll from behind his saddle, deciding to sleep on the porch. It was too hot to build a fire. Besides, he didn’t even have coffee to boil anyway. The jerky and hard tack in his saddlebags wasn’t worth eating.
He fell asleep listening to the sounds of freedom around him. Tomorrow he’d ride into town and win the first event. He hadn’t even checked to see what came first. He didn’t care.
Just after dawn he woke to the smell of blueberry muffins. He hadn’t tasted one since his mother died, but he’d never forget the aroma. He opened his eyes. Laurel Hayes sat three feet away on the steps.
Rising, he raked his hair back and mumbled, “What are you doing here?”
She smiled. “Watching you sleep.”
“I don’t think that’s proper,” he said.
“Probably not,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that wasn’t proper. I might as well start with you.”
He growled at her and to his surprise, she laughed. It seemed to him that if she had any sense, she’d be afraid of him.
He studied her, all prim and proper in her white blouse and navy riding skirt. She didn’t look quite so “old maid” today. He had a feeling her rich daddy would shoot him on sight if the old man thought he was even talking to Laurel.
When he frowned, she added, “I brought you a good horse.”
He stood, dusting off his clothes. “I don’t think the captain would like me riding one of his horses.”
“It’s not his, but if you don’t want the mare, I’ll just take my muffins and go.”
“Wait.” Rowdy shook sleep from his head. “How about I think about the offer while I test the muffins?”
“All right.” She pushed back her wide-brimmed hat and studied him with the same look she’d given most of the stock in the corral yesterday. “You want to wash up and make coffee first before you eat?”
“No,” he said, then backtracked when he saw her frown. “I can’t make coffee. No supplies around here. All my father left was the pot, but I could wash up.”
She watched as he went to the well and drew up water. “I’m surprised the rope and bucket are still here,” he mumbled as he washed.
“I put them there last year,” she said. “I ride this way often and I like to stop to water my horse. Hope you don’t mind.”
It hadn’t occurred to him to mind. “You happen to bring a towel too?”
She laughed and tossed him the towel she’d spread over the basket of muffins.
He dried and placed the towel on the nail by the well. “Great, I got the towel wet so now I guess I’ll have to eat all the muffins.” He took the first one from her hand and asked, “Now tell me how come you own this horse?” If she had horses and maybe even cattle, she’d have no use for half the herd they might win.
They walked toward her mount. A lead rope had been tied to the saddle horn. A chestnut mare was at the other end of the rope. At first glance it appeared ordinary, but Rowdy didn’t miss the look in the animal’s eyes. Intelligent, he thought. He downed another muffin while he circled the horse.
“I don’t own him,” she said when he returned to her side. “You do.”
When he showed no sign of believing her, she added, “When the sheriff came to get the stock after your father died, she was only a colt limping around the corral. The sheriff didn’t figure she’d last to town so he turned her loose.” Laurel brushed the roan’s neck. “I found her the next day and knew she’d be coyote dinner if I didn’t put her in the barn for a few weeks.”
The horse pushed her with its nose as if playing.
“I checked on her every day until she was big enough to run the land. Whenever I was home from school, I rode by to check on her. The wound on her leg healed with a little help from the whiskey I found in the cabin and she began to grow. I