The Cowboy Tutor. Linda Ford
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as a cowboy rather than a teacher. In hindsight, it might have been better to disguise that fact. But it was too late now. Somehow he had to convince her—all of them—he was no longer a cowboy. He shrugged and remembered to cough. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it’s not as romantic and adventuresome as one might think. It’s mostly hard, unrelenting work that wears many a man down to the bone.” He spoke the truth—a relief to his burning conscience, though it wasn’t an opinion he shared.
“Wouldn’t the fresh air be good for your lungs?” Madge asked, her voice signaling a touch of disbelief.
“Madge, I’m sure Justin doesn’t care to have his health problems as part of our conversation.”
Madge gave her mother an apologetic smile, then fixed Judd with an uncompromising look. He didn’t claim any special powers at reading a woman’s mind, but he got her loud and clear. She silently warned him she would be challenging everything he said and did.
He would have to guard his words and steps carefully.
She pulled her gaze away and pushed back from the table. “It’s getting late. I’ve lingered too long. Sally, Mother, do you mind if I don’t assist with dishes tonight? I still have to get the cow and calf home and milk the cow. I have laundry to deliver to two customers as well as pickup for tomorrow’s customers.”
“I’ll help you.” Judd pushed back, then remembered his frail health and struggled with getting his breath. He’d watched her pack heavy baskets of wet laundry up the stairs. Fought an urge to assist as she’d emptied the tubs.
“No need.”
Louisa released a sigh, causing Judd to think she’d been holding her breath for a long time. “I wondered if we could do more lessons tonight.”
“Louisa, I don’t want you overtaxed,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Besides, I told Justin he would have the evenings to do as he wished.”
“Of course, Mother.”
Judd already realized how hungry Louisa was to learn. If the students he’d had in school had been half as eager, he might have found teaching a little more rewarding. But even then it wouldn’t have satisfied his love of wide-open spaces. Ranching had called to him. It was still in his blood. As soon as he finished with this other business, he’d head west again and perhaps find a place where he could start his own little ranch.
“I don’t need help.” Madge interrupted his thoughts. “But you’re welcome to accompany me. I could show you around a bit.”
The warning in her eyes let him know she had more in mind than friendly welcome. His lungs twisted with anticipation.
Mental dueling with Miss Madge might prove to be a lot of fun.
Chapter Three
“Where are we going?” Justin asked as he limped along beside her.
Her first thought had been to stride as fast as usual, leaving him to catch up as best he could, but she’d invited him to accompany her for a specific reason—to try to discover who he really was—the cowboy she’d seen on the street or this weak, namby-pamby man who seemed to prefer books to cows and horses. She’d glimpsed eagerness as he’d talked about ranching. Unintentional, she was certain. But it made her more curious. More convinced he hid something. More confused on how she felt about him.
“I’m forced to take the pair wherever I can find something for them to eat, even if it’s only weeds, which make the milk taste awful. Louisa needs the nourishment.”
“How do you plan to feed them through the winter?”
The question was continually on her mind. “I’ve kept the calf for butcher.” Feeding another animal strained her resources, but if she could provide adequate food for the family… “I hope I can trade some of the meat for winter fodder.”
“Though if no one has any feed…”
She knew as well as he how scarce hay would be. “Perhaps we can get some shipped in.”
“Or might be a farmer is giving up and ready to part with what he’s scraped together.”
“In exchange for cash, which is as hard to find as hay.”
They fell into a contemplative silence. Suddenly she realized how easy it had been to talk to him about her problems, how comfortable they’d fit into each other’s strides, even with his limp, and how she ached to tell him everything crowding her brain. But she didn’t trust him, she didn’t want to be attracted to him, and even though she’d seen him first, he was Mother’s pick for Louisa. Her protests chased through her thoughts like runaway children. “I must hurry. The cow will be begging to be milked by now.” She lengthened her stride, forcing him to step, hop and limp to keep up. She slowed and chuckled.
He caught up to her and coughed a little, though she noted he wasn’t out of breath.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“Yes. Us. Look at me. My chin stuck out, rushing across the prairie like I’m trying to outrun a fire, while you hop along like a rabbit with a broken foot. Anyone seeing us would surely shake their head in disbelief.” She laughed again, then realized how he might interpret her comments and clamped a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to mock your limp.”
He only laughed, his eyes flashing with amusement. His dark gaze held hers as she gave another nervous laugh. She wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed more by her ill-considered comment, her continuing suspicion or the way her heart lurched as his look invited her into exciting territory full of adventure, excitement and something she couldn’t…wouldn’t…try to identify—a sense of connection.
She tore her gaze away and forced her steps toward the little slough where she’d found some dried grass for the cow. The cow’s desperate lowing reached her, followed by the bleating of the calf. They directed her thoughts sharply back to her responsibilities. She’d tethered them so the calf couldn’t suck the cow and steal the precious milk. “The cow needs milking. The calf needs feeding.”
“Sounds like a song.” He repeated the words, setting them to a rousing camp tune. “And the wind keeps blowing till my mind is numb.” He added several more verses, each more mournful than the first, yet comical, and she laughed.
“I see you missed your calling. You should be in the entertainment world.”
He grinned, a look so teasing and inviting her mouth went dry. “I don’t have a hankering for being pelted with rotten tomatoes when I jest about how hard times are.”
She lifted one shoulder in resignation and acknowledgement. “Might as well laugh as cry, I say.”
“Amen.”
She allowed one brief glance at him. Remnants of his amusement remained, and something more that she recognized as determination—an echo of her own heart. “And do what one can to make things better.”
“Exactly.”
Her brief glance had gone on longer than she should have allowed. Thankfully they reached the struggling trees at the almost dry slough, and she hurried to release the cow. When she turned to do the same for the calf, Justin already held the rope. Together they headed for home. Usually she had her hands full keeping the calf away from the cow, but with Justin helping it was a lot easier, and they reached the barn in short order.
She turned the cow into the stall. “Do you mind putting the calf in that pen over there? There’s a bit of grain for it.”
He did as she asked, then lounged against a post, watching as she milked. Usually she found the time relaxing, but not under his study. “You don’t need to stay here.”
“See no reason to leave. Unless you want me to.”
Did she? Of course she did. Even if she didn’t suspect