Miss Murray on the Cattle Trail by Lynna Banning

Author:Lynna Banning
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-12-05T19:56:51+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

She found him sitting motionless, his back against a tree trunk with his long legs bent, his battered gray hat on the ground beside him. His hands hung loose across the tops of his knees. He didn’t look up.

She knew he had heard her approach, but he didn’t move. She stepped forward and stood in front of him without speaking, and then she moved between his splayed legs and dropped to her knees.

He reached for her. She pulled him forward, pressed his head against her breast and held him in silence.

An hour passed, maybe two; she didn’t know and she didn’t care. In all that time Zach said nothing. She didn’t know what else to do other than just hold him, be there with him. Some instinct warned her not to talk.

Finally he lifted his head, looked into her eyes and nodded tiredly. Slowly he smoothed one hand over her hair, then did it again. Then he reached to one side to pick up his hat and stood up.

She rose with him, stepped close beside him and took his hand. Without speaking, they turned toward camp. Her throat was so tight it ached.

* * *

In the morning, Alex balanced her tin plate of fried potatoes and bacon in one hand and accepted a brimming mug of coffee with the other.

“Boss not eat breakfast,” Roberto confided.

“Where is he?”

“Not know. Not sleep in camp last night.”

She looked up into Roberto’s worried face. “Where did Curly and Jase bury the horse?”

“Close by. Under big oak tree.”

“Then that is where he is,” Alex said. “I am sure of it. But...”

Roberto’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose. “But? But what, señorita?”

“Roberto, I think we should leave him alone. Right now he needs to be by himself.”

He gave her a long look. “You are correct, I think, señorita. Señor Strickland is much man.”

Much man? What did that mean?

She thought about Roberto’s description all morning and well into the afternoon as the herd plodded slowly through the hot, dry sagebrush-dotted desert.

When the sun burned directly overhead, a lone rider on a spirited paint swung in ahead of the herd. She knew it was Zach; she recognized the way he sat on his horse.

He made his way back to Juan, who was riding the flank position, and reined up beside him. They spoke together briefly, and then Zach touched his hat brim and rode up to Alex.

He thumbed back his Stetson and gave her a slow nod. “Dusty.” His voice sounded raw.

She fished in her shirt pocket and thrust two breakfast biscuits toward him. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“You didn’t have breakfast. You must be hungry because you skipped supper last night, too.”

He pinned her with clouded green eyes. “Yeah, I did. Thanks. You don’t miss much, do you?”

“I am a newspaper reporter, Zach. I have trained myself to notice things.”

The ghost of a smile touched his tight mouth. “I’m obliged to you, Dusty.” For just a moment the shadow lifted from his eyes. “For more than just the biscuits.”

He touched his hat and reined his horse away to join Curly and Skip, who were riding point.

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