A Man to Call My Own

Chapter 13

THEY CAMPED NEXT TO a water hole. It wasn't the best-tasting water around, but Chad had brought a supply, so they didn't need to drink it. He did the cooking himself. Marian actually offered to, but if she cooked the way Red did, and they both hailed from the same place, he'd rather eat roots, so he declined. Besides, he didn't trust Marian not to burn the camp down, she was so clumsy. The farther she stayed from the campfire, the better.

He'd managed to cool off, his temper, that is, as the day got hotter. A pure waste of time, riding alongside a carriage, but what the hell, it was only one more day. Amanda even magnanimously elected to sleep in the carriage, since it was a two-seater and she was short enough to fit on one of the padded seats, if she curled her legs that is. The padding was what swayed her, but at least he didn't have to unload the wagon for her—after it finally caught up to them.

Chad half expected Spencer to show up that night with some flimsy excuse about making sure the ladies were all right. It was something Chad might have done if he wanted to see more of a woman who had caught his interest. But then he was forgetting that Spencer was town raised. His particular town might be in the middle of Texas, but there was still a big difference in being raised in the comforts of town and roughing it out on the plains, which anyone raised on a ranch was used to.

And Spencer had already used up his quota of flimsy excuses. Looking forward to Red's cooking— Chad gave a mental snort. The bastard didn't even know that if Red had ever cooked a meal in her life, it had probably burned, that she employed cooks for herself as well as the bunkhouse for just that reason, which she wasn't ashamed to admit.

The maid Ella Mae offered to clean up after dinner, which was nice of her. She was a quiet one. Brown hair kept in a soft bun not nearly as severe as Marian's, green eyes, a few years older than the sisters, she went about her duties without drawing much attention to herself. She was a plain-looking woman, except for the hint of humor always in her eyes. Marian spoke to her as if she were a friend. Amanda spoke to her with more respect than he'd heard her use with anyone else. Neither treated her as a menial servant. They didn't tell her to do things, they asked. He supposed she'd been with them long enough that she was more like family.

Of course, as families went, the sisters didn't exactly behave like they were related. They didn't talk much to each other, but when they did, they rarely had a nice word to say. He figured they'd had an argument somewhere along their journey and just hadn't made up yet. That might explain some of Amanda's testiness as well—and the spinsters rudeness.

Amanda had left the campfire to prepare for bed. Chad watched her surreptitiously for a bit as she fussed with the blankets he'd bought to find one for her use. Ella Mae had brought her a bucket of water. She used it to wash the dust from the day off her face and neck, but then took it with her behind the wagon for a bit more privacy.

He was finding her more and more lovely with each passing day. He hoped he wasn't getting smitten-not yet anyway. With no encouragement coming from her other than a few smiles, and those had been passed out to others as well, not just him, he still didn't know whether he stood a chance in hell of gaining her affections.

Usually there were clues, lots of them, small subtle ways a woman let a man know she was interested in him. He'd never been in doubt about a woman's interest, well, certainly not for this long. Of course, he hadn't been obvious about his interest in her either. He had decided to wait before making any move on her, so maybe she was keeping her own feelings firmly under wraps until he started dropping some clues of his own.

With Amanda gone from sight, he glanced back toward the campfire and was surprised to find himself alone with the spinster. The fire was reflected in both lenses of her spectacles, two miniature campfires in exact detail. It looked most odd, but then she always looked odd with those spectacles shoved so far up the bridge of her nose.

She seemed tired tonight, even though she had chosen not to ride a horse today after all, since the carriage had more than enough room for both sisters. He still grudgingly admired her gumption over that, to be willing to ride a horse, when apparently neither sister had ever sat on one before. He had briefly thought about teaching her how, once they were at the ranch, but then gave himself a mental kick for even vaguely considering it. The more distance he kept from her, the better for him.

He'd made a pot of coffee—a habit from those long late-night watches over a herd being taken to market. He figured only he'd be drinking it, so he hadn't made much. But she'd poured herself a cup when he wasn't looking and had set it near the fire to keep it warm.

He glanced away, not wanting to encourage conversation with her if he could help it. But out of the corner of his eye he saw her reach for her cup, and almost stick her hand into the fire instead.

He shook his head, stared right at her, and said, "You need to find yourself a new eye doctor. Trenton just happens to have one."

Her eyes moved to him, then back to the cup she'd managed to get hold of. "There's nothing wrong with my vision," she replied indignantly.

"You're as blind as a bat."

"What an unkind thing to say," she said with a humph.

"You get top honors on unkind remarks, Missy. I'm just stating the obvious."

"Which isn't the least bit true."

"Isn't it? How many fingers am I holding up?" When she said nothing, he added, "Uh-huh, I rest my case."

She lowered her head a bit, conceding, he thought, until she replied triumphantly, "Three."

He mumbled under his breath. "You were guessing."

"And you have trouble admitting when you're wrong, don't you?"

"When's the last time you had your eyes checked?" he countered. "To go by those antiquated spectacles you wear, it was probably when you were a child. What can it hurt to have a new exam?"

He thought he was being helpful, but even in the dim light of the campfire he could see her blush.

And her hiss was further indication that he'd hit a sore spot.

"My eyesight isn't a concern of yours. And you have got to stop talking to me before she notices and—"

She stopped, looked immensely flustered, as if she'd said something she shouldn't have. Chad leaned back on his bedroll, resting on one elbow. He was only mildly curious. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but he hoped he was giving her that impression.

"She? She who?"

"Never mind."

"Then let's get back to your eyes."

"You don't listen very well, do you?"

"Sure I do. I heard something about not talking to you anymore, but since you don't care to elaborate, then it can't be very important."

"Trust me, Mr. Kinkaid, this is one can of beans you don't want to open."

He raised a brow. Did she have a real concern— or was she setting him up for another outlandish insult?

He laid on his Texas drawl a bit thick, "Well now, darlin', you've managed to prick my interest—"

"Too bad."

It was a gift she had, how easily she could annoy a man. He sat up stiffly. He jammed a stick into the fire to stir it up, added a few more thick branches so it would last through the night.

"Thank you," he thought he heard her say, though he couldn't imagine why.

She got around to telling him when he pointed out, "You could have just walked away."

"I happen to be chilled, have been for the last hour. I'm not sure why. The night isn't that cold. But I was trying to get warm by the fire before I went to bed. You could have walked away though, or at least stop making it so obvious that we're having a conversation."

"I'm not dumb. My bed is here next to the fire, and I'm already in it and staying in it. So why don't you just cut to the meat and tell me what the problem is?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I probably would, but since you're too embarrassed to explain—"

"I'm not embarrassed," she cut in. "I was merely trying to save you some—"

When she didn't continue, he suggested, "Confusion? Aggravation? Good job, lady, you've really managed to save me a lot of both."

Since his sarcasm couldn't have gotten much heavier, it wasn't surprising that she was back to blushing enough to burn a barn down. But he'd managed to annoy her, too, enough to get her to spill the beans.

"Very well, our 'talking' is likely to give Amanda the wrong impression. If she thought, for even a minute, that I liked you—which I don't, mind you," she was quick to add. "But if she thought it, she'd turn her charm on you to win you for herself. She'd do it not because she likes you—and I have no idea if she does or doesn't—she'd do it just to spite me."

She'd managed to amaze him. He'd never heard of anything so silly, but then he should have suspected that something absurd like that would come out of her, considering how wild her imagination was.

"Gotcha. So all it takes to gain her interest is to pretend an interest in you. Sounds pretty easy. I'll keep it in mind."

She stared at him hard for a moment before she said, "You know, I think I'd rather freeze than continue this conversation. You've been warned. Proceed at your own risk."

He smiled. "I always do, darlin'."