Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range Danica Favorite (warren buffett book recommendations .txt) 📖

thimbles dug into her palms. Not only must she part with the sweet girl who’d become entrenched in her heart, but she must suffer riding with Lou.

The ride to town had proved easy enough. Lou and James discussed matters of all sorts, from selling the ranch to the government’s plans regarding prohibition. As they spoke, Mary kept finding herself torn between staring at Josie, memorizing her sleep-peaceful features, to watching Lou and the movements of his mouth.... Had he really kissed her?

Her fingers moved to her lips.

It hadn’t been her first kiss, but it had been the only one she’d enjoyed. Sleep had eluded her last night, for memories had risen unbidden to the surface of her subconscious. They’d invaded her sleep, dreams from long ago. From childhood. And then nightmares.

She should have expected those. After all, the only kisses she’d ever experienced had been forced upon her by rough and ungodly men. Though they had not assaulted her, for it would have diminished her worth, they’d nevertheless taken liberties no man should take with a woman. One week of terror when she’d been kidnapped.... It had ruined her image of men for life. Or so she’d thought.

The past years had been healing, but not until yesterday, when Lou had kissed her, had she realized that maybe she could move on from what had happened so long ago. Perhaps the evils Mendez and his cohorts had perpetrated upon her no longer had the power to bind her spirit.

For that knowledge alone, she should thank Lou. And yet she felt as though he’d betrayed her somehow. As if he’d offered the most delectable dessert, waved it beneath her nose, then snatched it back.

Her throat closed and she glanced away from Lou’s wagon, down the street, watching as the town awoke. Mrs. Hartley swept the walk outside her fabric store. Others drove or rode past, on their way to various employments.

This was her home.

No matter what happened with the ranch, this place remained hers. God had brought her to this town, and it had been here where she’d found healing. Inhaling deeply, she relished the scents of the restaurant next door and the sage always present in her beloved desert.

“Let’s git on with it.” James burst out of the store, Miss Alma on his heels.

“But won’t you come pick up your pie, at least?”

“I don’t want nothin’ to do with it.” He spun around, right in the middle of the road, and pointed a finger at Miss Alma. Right at her nose actually, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “You leave me alone...you...you confounded woman.” He threw his hands up in the air and stomped off toward the wagon.

Lou leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and squinted at them. Mary looked both ways and then hustled to the center of the road, where Miss Alma still stood.

Gently she laid a hand on Miss Alma’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, me?” She turned and patted Mary’s hand. “Don’t worry, my dear. He’ll come around.” Her hand went to her heart, and she let out what could only be described as a lovelorn sigh. “He’s a handsome fellow.”

Mary tried not to gape.

“Well, then.” Miss Alma patted Mary’s hand again and then removed it from her shoulder, where it had lingered, paralyzed by Miss Alma’s frightening proclamation. She dropped her arm, trying to assess this odd situation that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“He will come around, no doubt,” repeated Miss Alma with brisk optimism. “You take care and don’t let that Lou Riley ruin your reputation.”

With a swish of her skirts, she left Mary in the middle of the road and bustled back to the walkway.

The trip to Portland was torturous. Worse than the time Lou had been captured during the Great War and thrown into a dank dungeon for weeks. He’d chosen to travel by train because he hadn’t wanted to run his tin lizzie over the highways. His Model T was relatively close to the ground and it was too easy for rocks and other debris to lodge up underneath it. That was why he’d insisted they take the UP’s short line. He didn’t normally mind riding the railroad. He knew all the switches they’d need to make, and at which towns, but traveling with a little girl and a woman proved disastrous for his peace of mind.

For one, Josie didn’t stop talking. And she wanted to sit by the window. Being it was the last time he’d see her, he obliged, but that forced him next to Mary. Somehow she managed to still smell like flowers and sage, despite the cramped quarters and dusty stops. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and every time he thought about making conversation, he changed his mind.

He was planning on leaving. Mary deserved better, someone who could offer the home she wanted, the love she needed. Sometimes he thought she felt something for him, maybe even love. But he wasn’t sure and not knowing could take a man down perilous mental routes.

He hid his uncomfortable, traitorous feelings by doing paperwork. Mary stayed busy sewing all sorts of things. He’d see her fingers flying and find himself intrigued by the motion.

There was a grace to her movements, a slender fragility in her hands that belied the briskness of her stitches. She urged Josie to sew, even offering a fancy little doodad for her finger, but the little girl alternated between sleeping, yapping and sitting in stony silence.

Finally, after the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and smells and noises, they arrived at Portland’s Union Station.

“Ewww, what’s that smell?” Josie wrinkled her nose.

Lou hooked a finger into the collar of her dress to keep her close by. “You should be used to it.”

“The odor is strong,” Mary remarked, moving closer as passengers jostled around her. She clutched her luggage to her chest.

“Here, let me take that.” Before she could protest, he hefted her suitcase from her arms and tilted Josie toward her. “You hold the boy’s hand.”

Josie giggled. “I’m