horses.”
“The last night we’re here”—Lewt began choosing his words carefully—“we might want to invite her to the party. I’d bet she’d like talking with Boyd about his horses.”
“I’ll do that.” Rose tilted her head as if looking at him in fresh light. “You’re a thoughtful man, Lewton Paterson.”
He smiled, thinking he’d finally said something right. After that, they talked easily. Rose told him about coming here with her mother and sisters and how foreign everything was to what she’d known.
He told her of the train trip out from Austin and how he enjoyed watching the land drift by almost as if he were sitting still and the scenery were moving.
She described growing up on a ranch and living in a little house in town when the weather was too bad to travel back and forth to school. “It’s the perfect house, really, nestled between the church and the school. My papa always called it the girls’ house because he said it was far too little for a man to live in. We all use it now and then when we have to stay in town late or the weather turns bad. Or”—she grinned as if admitting a weakness—“when a house full of people gets to be too much and we just want to be alone.”
She asked him about his home, but Lewt talked of the work he’d done while with Em yesterday. How could he tell her he never remembered having a home? Even now, the room he rented wasn’t something anyone would call a home. His mother had a room in the basement of a whorehouse in New Orleans where she spent her days doing laundry. His father sometimes came to visit, usually when he was out of money. By the time he was three or four he remembered hearing his mother yell for his father to “take the kid” when he left. Sometimes he did, and Lewt learned that there were levels of hell.
He looked over at Rose and knew he’d never tell her about his childhood. How do you tell someone surrounded by love what it was like to be starving but have to learn early to eat only half your food and save the rest because it might be days before you ate again?
He was glad for the distraction as they skirted a pasture with yearlings running across tall grass. The group stopped to watch, laughing and picking out which one they thought was the most beautiful.
Even if he married Rose and lived with her fifty years, she didn’t need to know about his childhood. He only wished he could forget.
Boyd Sinclair finally got tired of showing off and doubled back to join Lewt and Rose. The man went on and on about how wonderful his stallion was, and Rose listened politely. Lewt even asked a few questions. At least if Boyd was talking, Rose wasn’t thinking of any more questions to ask him.
Now and then, he’d glance back and spot Beth, Davis, and Emily behind them. Once in a while, when Boyd stopped talking for a few seconds, Lewt thought he heard Beth’s laughter. Part of him wished he were back with them, but Miss Emily rarely had anything to say to him, and Beth only had eyes for Davis.
By the time they reached the site where the fire pit and corrals were, he’d learned a great deal about Rose and her family and more than he wanted to know about Boyd Sinclair. Lewt wouldn’t have been surprised if his family had sent him north to find a bride just so he’d have someone else to talk to.
Lewt helped Rose down from her saddle, even though he knew she was perfectly able to swing down alone. She didn’t seem to mind his polite touch at all. In fact, she thanked him, which he had a feeling Em would never do.
All three McMurray ladies wore riding skirts made of heavy cloth and western boots to match their coats. The day was sunny, but still chilly, and the wind had turned from the west and now seemed to be blowing more from the north.
“Looks like someone already stacked the wood for a fire,” Lewt commented as they moved to a circle of rocks and downed tree trunks around a pit. He, for one, was looking forward to a fire.
“Probably Em,” Rose moved closer. “I said we’d be coming this way when I saw her.”
“Did she leave before dawn?” He swore he felt like she was a ghost