Solitary Horseman by Camp Deborah

Author:Camp, Deborah [Camp, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-08-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The addition of the Payne herd had doubled his work, but Callum hadn’t felt the load as keenly as he did that Sunday morning. After a week of riding hard from sunup to sundown, doing chores in the evening by moonlight, and roping and wrestling calves and their mamas for two days straight, he’d groaned like an old man when he’d forced himself out of bed. Muscles bunched in his neck and shoulders and burned down his back and legs. He was sorely tempted to fall back into bed and stay there.

But he didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t.

He’d had to see to his father and had helped him dress. Then they’d shared a quick breakfast of hot coffee and leftover cornbread crumbled into bowls of milk. He’d dashed out to feed and check on the livestock, hoping to make fast work of it. Naturally, one of the horses had gotten spooked by something during the night and had kicked a hole into her stall door, knocking it off its hinges and bruising her ankle.

“What the hot hell happened to you?” Callum grumbled, leaning over to run his hand gently over the mare’s swollen skin. There were no cuts and the horse didn’t seem to be in much pain. He rubbed liniment on the area before righting the gate and boarding up the hole. The activity loosened his sore muscles so that he wasn’t moving around like a busted up old cowpoke.

It was his birthday, but he tried not to dwell on that. But he did feel older. Not just a year older, but years older. Sometimes, he thought he should have gray hair and wrinkles. Like today with his creaky bones and tight muscles. To his mind, celebrating birthdays was for babies and toddlers. Grown men and women shouldn’t make a fuss about them. On his birthday last year, he had worked all day and then had ridden into town for a couple of swigs of whiskey and a round or two of poker. He’d lost five dollars and had felt like a damn fool on the ride home.

He wouldn’t make that same mistake this year. After work, he’d sit by the fire and read before crawling into bed. Like an old man. He winced and shoved aside that nettling taunt.

Staunchly ignoring the aches that occasionally cinched his muscles, he set to mucking out stalls. He’d just finished bottle feeding four orphaned calves when he heard the rattle and thumping of a horse and wagon. Striding out of the barn, he almost tripped over his own feet when he saw Banner hopping down from her wagon. His heart expanded at the unexpected sight of her. She spotted him and waved.

“Something wrong?” he asked, walking toward the house. She had piled her rich brown hair onto her head in that way that made him want to pluck out the pins and let it tumble. She wore the yellow dress that hugged her narrow waist and ripe breasts.

“No. Everything is fine,” she called back to him.

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