A Worthy Pursuit Read Online Free

Probably the girl’s. “What is it? What is it?”
    The child sounded like she thought he was an oversized turkey trussed up for Sunday supper.
    “Stay back, missy,” his captor warned. “He’s a mean one.”
    Him? It was all Stone could do not to scoff aloud. He wasn’t the one who’d slammed a rifle butt into an unsuspecting man’s head.
    “Go fetch Miss Lottie.” Saddle leather creaked. Dobson must be dismounting.
    Something sharp prodded Stone in the ribs at the same time. The boy. Stone was tempted to lunge upright and growl, but scaring the kid witless wouldn’t serve his purpose. So he lay like a lump and let the youngster prod at him.
    “Is he dead?”
    “Nah. I just tapped him on the noggin.” Another prod with the stick. Or maybe it was that harpoon contraption. “Better quit pokin’ at him. Don’t want him to wake up too soon and scare the missus.”
    “Aw. Nothin’ scares Miss Lottie. Well, except those frogs I slipped into the drawer of her dressing table that one time.”The boy smothered a laugh. “She came running out o’ her room with her hair flying every which way. It’s the only time I ever seen her with it down. Didya know it hangs past her waist? I don’t know how she manages to pile it all on top o’ her head and keep it there.”
    Why did the boy have to go and draw that picture for him? Here he lay, forced to keep his eyes shut to maintain his ruse, thereby leaving him vulnerable to inappropriate mental images. Where was a good horse to inspect or a barn door to count knotholes in when he needed one? All he had was the back of his eyelids, and they provided scant protection from the vision of a tall woman with honey-colored hair flowing in long waves down the line of her back. Hard to picture Charlotte Atherton as a tight-laced prude if her hair was all soft and free.
    “It ain’t proper to discuss a woman’s hair, boy.” Dobson nearly choked on the words. Was he embarrassed? Angry? Infatuated with the picture himself? That last thought nearly had Stone scowling before he remembered to keep his facial muscles relaxed.
    “Go rub down my horse then fetch a bucket of water for the stranger’s animal. The beast prob’ly worked up a thirst carting this heavy carcass around.” A boot nudged against Stone’s hip, leaving no question as to the identity of the heavy carcass being discussed. Stone couldn’t say he enjoyed being compared to buzzard bait, but at least the man was seeing to Goliath’s welfare.
    Plodding hoofbeats retreated as the boy led Dobson’s horse away. A gnat buzzed around Stone’s nose, making the skin around his nostrils itch something fierce. The infernal bug finally flew away, but the itch remained. And intensified with each tickle of breath. Of all the rotten timing.
    Stone directed his mind back to the fetching picture of Miss Atherton with her hair down. Anything to distract him from the need to scratch. Unfortunately, thoughts of all that hair only made him think of how a stray strand dragging across his face would itch like the very devil. Doggone it. He wanted to scratch. Just once. Maybe if he turned his head a little and raised his shoulder he could make it look natural. Maybe not unconscious-natural, but the gnome was no doctor. How would he know what an unconscious man might do?
    The creak of a door hinge focused Stone’s attention in an instant and saved him from his idiotic rationalizing.
    “Mr. Dobson? What on earth . . . ?”
    Fabric snapped back and forth in a rapid staccato as Miss Atherton hurried to see what her guard dog had drug in.
    “He was up on the ridge, miss. Spying on you and the young’uns. With these.”
    Ah. Well, at least Stone knew where his field glasses had ended up. He supposed he should be grateful they hadn’t been left in the dirt. He’d paid over twenty dollars for the high-powered pair and didn’t want to think of them being left out in the elements. The evidence they presented was rather damning,