The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance Katherine Logan (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

to slap her hand over his mouth, but she doubted she could reach it, so she stepped on his giant foot. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see your foot.”

“That’s almost impossible, Ensley, but you can walk on top of it all you want.”

“In what sport?” TR asked, picking up on Austin’s comment.

“Sport?”

“Yes, that you played against seven-footers.”

Austin glanced up and rolled in his bottom lip.

“Polo, I believe. Wasn’t it, Austin?” she asked.

“No,” he tweaked his chin. “It was hockey. Like polo, it’s one of the five oldest sports in the world.”

“What are the other three?” She was embarrassed that her sports knowledge was so limited, and she hated not knowing something Austin knew.

“I believe, Mrs. Fraser, that would be running, wrestling, and—”

“Javelin throwing,” Austin said. “And with the length of my arms”—he demonstrated throwing a spear—” I’d win a gold medal, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re right,” TR said. “Do you wrestle?”

“I did when I was young, but once my arms and legs sprouted like weeds, no one would wrestle with me anymore.”

Ensley’s eyes bounced from Austin to TR and back again. It was like an entirely different person showed up once the sun went down. What happened to the bad-tempered jerk she met earlier? She tried looking into his eyes but couldn’t see into them in the dark. He must have taken pain medication. His personality couldn’t flip like that in such a short time.

Remy joined them. “What’s all the cheering about?”

TR pointed. “Mr. O’Grady stuffed a pillow up in that tree.”

Remy turned to watch a man climb on another man’s shoulder to reach the pillow. “You’re off your game, Austin. That’s only about eight, maybe nine feet.”

Austin shrugged. “I knew I couldn’t make twelve, so I settled.”

Ensley’s jaw dropped. “How did you judge the distance to the first crotch and then to the second? There wasn’t enough time.”

“The accident didn’t hurt my eyesight, Ensley, only my leg. You put me on a ninety-four by a fifty-foot rectangle, and I can tell you the distance from any point inside that area.”

Austin stared at some invisible point, and Remy took advantage of the silence. “I’m Remy Benoit, Mr. Roosevelt. A friend of James Cullen’s. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Where are you from?” TR asked. “I don’t recognize the accent.”

“New Awlins, sir. But I call Kentucky home now.”

“That’s where Mr. Fraser went.”

“I heard that. I hope he has a pleasant visit. Now”—Remy gestured with his index fingers, air-playing them like drumsticks—“Norman said to round you guys up for dinner.”

“Have you been cooking?” Austin asked.

Ensley couldn’t tell if the question was wry or delighted.

“I made Cajun rabbit stew,” Remy said.

“To be official Cajun rabbit stew, doesn’t it require a squirrel? I didn’t see one in the carcasses you brought into camp,” Ensley said.

“No squirrel. Just salt, garlic powder, paprika, chili pepper, cayenne pepper, a little dry rub with black pepper, powdered tomatoes with chicken broth, cherry-berry homemade wine, a little peanut oil to brown the rabbit, and then whatever else Norman had to add to the pot.”

“I’m not familiar with Cajun cooking, and I don’t have much use for exotic food,” TR said.

“This isn’t exotic. It’s just spicy with a bite,” Remy said.

What’s with MacKlenna men carrying spices in their saddlebags?

They returned to their campsite, and Ensley excused herself to go wash up for dinner. She removed her gloves and fingered the red fabric she’d put on her palm earlier. She blinked. “Damn.” The blister had healed, and the skin was as smooth as a baby’s butt.

“Mrs. Fraser, dinner’s ready,” TR called out. “The rabbit stew smells like it came from Delmonico’s kitchen.”

“Coming!” She packed up her toiletries, tucked the two-inch square swatch back into her bra, and returned to the wagon.

Along with Sewall and Dow, Austin and Remy carried two boards they placed over a tree stump, forming a tabletop.

“Bring your saddles to sit on,” Austin said.

“Get your chair, Norman.”

“Don’t need to eat yet,” he said.

Ensley grabbed his ladder-back chair and placed it at the end of the makeshift table. “Of course you do. You’re part of the team.”

The stew was spicy with a kick and a real crowd-pleaser. Several of the other cooks followed the Cajun scent and came by to see what they were eating, but Norman stayed mum. “I don’t never tell cookin’ secrets,” he whispered to Ensley. “So I’ll always have a job.”

They were all too hungry to do much talking. When Ensley’s stomach was full, she dumped her dirty dishes into Norman’s wrecking pan. She’d learned early on that it was the ultimate no-no to leave dirty dishes behind.

She picked up a dishrag to dry the dishes, but Norman shooed her away. “Ya better get to sleep soon, so go be with Roosevelt and your husband’s cousin. Tomorrow you’ll be too busy to talk.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m glad to help. I didn’t do any of the cooking.”

“Not your job. Do ya think I’ll feel bad for not findin’ any strays tomorrow?”

She folded the dishrag and handed it to him. “Okay, I’ll do as I’m told.”

Norman laughed and shook his head.

TR produced a backgammon board. “Do you play, Mr. O’Grady?”

Wait a minute! I’m supposed to be your partner.

“I do, but it’s not my best game,” Austin said.

“What is your best game?” Ensley asked. “Old Maid?” As soon as she’d thrown out the insult, she wished she could rake it back in. Austin was acting decent, and she shouldn’t pick on him.

He gave her a half grin. “Pops taught me to play chess as a kid and made me play thirty minutes every night.”

She returned to her saddle, put her elbows on the table, and laced her fingers. “It must have taken a while to finish a game.”

“Sometimes, it took a week. But it wasn’t until I got older that I realized Pops used that time to pass along words of wisdom. And the game taught me how to eliminate distractions, learn strategy, and see my next move. It also taught me how to