Prairie Moon by Maggie Osborne

Author:Maggie Osborne
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Short Stories (Single Author), Fiction
ISBN: 9781574904758
Publisher: Ivy Books
Published: 2002-10-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The Texas–New Mexico trail joined the Pecos River northwest of Fort Sumner, and followed the river valley into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

“Staying by the river makes an easier ride than I expected,” Della observed. “I feared we’d be riding up and down mountains.” Pushing back the brim of her hat, she gazed up at the peaks rising beyond the valley walls then let her glance slide back to the river. “There’s plenty of water and grass.”

And stage posts and small adobe forts, all of which Cameron had avoided. None were fit places for a lady. “I figure another week and we’ll be in Santa Fe.”

“When we started, you predicted three weeks.” She settled back in her saddle. “We’ve already been out here— what?—seven or eight weeks? Longer?”

“Would you have agreed to come if you’d known you’d be on a horse for two months or more?”

She considered. “Maybe not. It would have sounded too daunting.”

Cameron had shaded the truth, but he hadn’t lied. Men had made the trip in three weeks of hard riding. He’d done it once himself.

“On the other hand, this is the only chance I’ll ever have to see my daughter.” She turned her face toward the river. “My pumpkins will be ready to harvest soon. Assuming Mr. Hays watered them. He probably didn’t. No reason to.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Lord, no.” Her braid swung when she turned back to him. “When I think about everyone I’ve met, and everything I’ve learned, I don’t want this trip to end.” Cameron watched her mouth curve into a smile. “I can’t thank you enough.”

It made him uncomfortable when she started with the thank yous. Nothing he said had convinced her that she’d covered the subject weeks ago. Touching his boot heels to Bold’s flanks, he rode ahead, looking for a spot to camp. With the days short now, they stopped earlier. Some of the lost time could be made up by eating the midday meal in the saddle, but it was also true that he was in no hurry to reach Santa Fe and end his time alone with Della Ward.

There was always the possibility that she might permit him to kiss her again. As days turned into weeks, the possibility had dimmed. Nevertheless, he’d spent hours remembering that night and battling his desire and his feelings for her.

He’d expected Della to mention what had happened between them, but she didn’t. Eventually he understood that she never would.

Instead of feeling relieved that he wouldn’t have to discuss an awkward subject, it irritated him that she could just pretend that nothing had changed. That kiss hovered in the air between them no matter what they talked about or what they were doing. He looked at her, saw her mouth, and thought about kissing her. She spoke and he remembered her throaty voice when she’d said good night. She walked about the campsite and he could almost feel her hips fitting into his. And trying to sleep a few feet from her bedroll had become torture.

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