Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3 by Ward Marsha

Author:Ward, Marsha
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, western romance, american frontier, box set, owen family saga, 1860s adventure
Publisher: Marsha Ward

Chapter 13

By the end of the week, James had ridden the buckskin fourteen times and proclaimed him ready for Andy to work with. The boy was anxious to start training the colts, Angus was happy with the work, and James had his grubstake. Then he and Amparo were on the trail, with the big brown dog scampering behind their horses, sniffing out every scent that came along.

James rode cautiously that first day. His ribs were still tender from the adventure he and the buckskin had shared. With Amparo riding her horse behind him, he tried to pick the easiest side of the trail so she wouldn’t notice how he was favoring his back. He surely did not want her to whip out that vile bottle of liniment he’d seen Molly hand her as she packed the food and supplies.

When he called a halt for the night, he dismounted with an “oof.” Amparo looked over at him, but he smiled as he came to help her down, trying to move through the pain as though it did not exist. She narrowed her eyes, then turned and hunted through the packs to put together a meal.

James watched her from the ring of darkness beyond the fire as he rubbed down the animals and grained them. She sang softly as she cooked flat corn patties to go with the beans in the pot, kneeling beside the skillet at the fire, with her brown print skirt tucked up out of the way.

Beneath the white petticoat she wore under the skirt, he could see her knees. He turned away, quaking to his core as he recalled the fine texture of her skin beneath his hands, his fingers twined in the sweet smelling black veil of her hair, the rough places on his skin catching some of the strands. Now those strands of hair were captives in two thick braids tied with bits of cord.

He stroked the sorrel’s neck, resting his head against its shoulder, gathering strength from the animal, damping down the yearning that rose in him. When he had won a measure of calm, he returned to the fire.

Amparo gave James a plate, put down a portion of food for the dog, then took up her own plate and settled on her saddle. James ate a few bites, standing in silence, then looked down at her.

“It’s good food,” he said, his voice a touch gruff. I wish I could tell her in her own tongue, he thought, chewing another mouthful. “I’m obliged for the help. My cookin’ isn’t fit for any woman to eat.”

Amparo smiled at him. “Gracias, mi marido.”

“‘Marido’. You keep saying that.” James scooped up beans with one of the corn cakes, in imitation of Amparo’s actions.

“Marido.” She pointed to him. “Mujer.” Her finger turned to herself.

“Mujer. That’s woman,” he muttered as she pointed to the ring. “More than woman. Wife. So ‘marido’ must be husband.”

“Sí. Husban’.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her braids back and pointed to the glints of light at her ears, the adornments Rodríguez had provided.

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