The Lover Read Online Free Page A

else to be his servant.”
    She glanced up at him sideways. A matter-of-fact glance.
    â€œEverett was a lazy cuss,” she said. “He liked his food and drink and he liked his sleep.”
    He shook his head, grinning in spite of his pain. She was spunky, he had to hand her that.
    But he had to stop this line of thinking. He’d fallen into a whole more with her than a dalliance—he’d fallen into a whole lot of work in a short amount of time. He’d better get his mind on the task ahead.
    â€œWe’ve got a lot to get done today,” he said. “What kind of help do you have?”
    â€œAn older couple, May and Jimbo—they live in my cabin.”
    â€œThey can’t—,” he said.
    â€œâ€”hold a herd,” she interrupted. “I know. I asked the men who gathered the cattle not to leave them until we get there.”
    â€œAre you telling me that you’ve been running around all over town trying to hire men that you have to have tonight? ”
    â€œPretty much. Tucker, the brushpopper who’s running my roundup, promised to stay there with his men until I get home with some help.”
    The look in her eyes was earnest.
    â€œI’m paying them by the head and I know there’s a couple of dozen more cow and calf pairs in the mesquite out there.”
    Eagle Jack felt trapped and weary already.
    â€œSo we also have to count cattle tonight.”
    Susanna looked exasperated.
    â€œOr today , if we get there before dark,” she said, “which might happen if we don’t stand around here jawing all afternoon.”
    Three young men came out of the saddle shop, pushing both doors open, talking quietly among themselves about the saddle one of them carried.
    â€œExcuse me,” Susanna said, as they started past. “Do any of you happen to need a job? Would you like to go up the trail?”
    Shocked that a strange lady had spoken to them on the street, they stopped and turned. Too shy to meet Susanna’s gaze, they looked at Eagle Jack.
    â€œI—” he began. He didn’t quite know what he was going to say and Susanna didn’t let him find out.
    â€œThis is my husband,” she said, “Mr. Sixkiller. We’re looking for drovers to go up the Chisholm Trail.”
    It was all he could do not to grab her and shake some sense into her. It was all he could do not to turn on his heel and walk away. She had no business butting into the job she’d hired him to do.
    But these did look like fairly steady men. And he did have to have some help. No way did he intend to ride around a herd all night long by himself. Not to mention who would hold the cattle while he rode all over the countryside tomorrow trying to hire the oldest son of every war widow hanging on by the skin of her teeth or some hired hand who didn’t know he was too old and broken-down to stand up to life on the trail. He couldn’t wait for his own men to come with his herd from home because he had to get after Molly as soon as he could.
    So he did what he’d done a thousand times in his adventurous life and grabbed the situation to make the best of it. If these men turned out to be lazy or trouble, he could replace them when he got to Waco.
    My husband , she’d said, so fast he couldn’t even form a sentence on his tongue. It made him grit his teeth.
    It made his headache blossom into its original glory.
    But, knowing what he knew of her from this short acquaintance, if he wanted to accomplish anything here, he’d better go along with the charade. But only for the moment. Later, when he could get her alone, he’d tell her in no uncertain terms that it wouldn’t be necessary to pretend that they were married because she wouldn’t be going up the trail at all.
    â€œRight,” he said, “we’re putting together an outfit. Are you men available?”
    It took a couple of minutes for one of them to get his tongue