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

down into a chair on the small platform to wait for TR, the cows, and a very long night. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

“Mrs. Fraser.”

Ensley opened one eye. That was all she could manage when she was this tired. “I hate that name. Don’t we have an agreement?”

TR glanced around, then looked back at her. “I will as long as no one is around to hear me address you so informally.”

“That works for me.” She squared herself in the chair. “You put on dry clothes.”

He handed her the buffalo robe. “I’m sorry it’s so wet.”

She folded it inside out to let the underside of the hide dry. “Did you get your telegram?”

“It’s from Bill Sewall. They should be here about now. Do you want to get supper?”

She shot up out of her chair. They’d eaten the last of the fried chicken hours ago, and she was hoarding the one remaining apple for an emergency. She’d shared the last biscuit, and, as thin as TR was, she probably should share the apple, too.

“As long as I don’t have to cook, I’ll eat anything. But do we have time?”

“We’ll make time.” TR passed a coin to the red-nosed agent. “Send word when the train arrives.”

She stepped off the platform, gathered the tethered horses’ reins, and led them toward the hotel. “What’s your plan after you get the cattle unloaded?”

“Since the river is dangerously high, we can’t take the herd across, so we’ll have to stay clear of the valley and trek inland.”

“No water or rest for the weary. How about I take the horses over to the livery stable and have them brushed and fed, and you go make arrangements for dinner?”

“Tell the owner to put the feed on my bill.”

“I can pay for mine.”

“I’m sure you can, Ensley. But why would you want to?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because I want to pay my way, Teddy.” She emphasized his name as he had done with hers.

“Your husband gave me funds for your care. Save your pin money for new clothes.”

If she wasn’t so tired, she’d let him know in no uncertain terms that she found his pin money comment offensive. The term pin money had been used in a derogatory way to demean working women’s wages since the days of the suffragists. But arguing with him was a waste of energy.

“Okay, then. I’ll save my pin money.” She snatched Manitou’s reins out of his hand. “Save me a seat.” Then she tramped through the sagebrush, leading four horses to the livery stable, where she told the owner to put the feed on TR’s bill.

“How’d Manitou get so wet?” the owner asked.

“He fell into the ice pond. Will you dry off Mr. Roosevelt’s gear, too? And oil the saddle and bridle afterward so the leather won’t dry out.”

The man laughed. “Did he take Mr. Roosevelt in with him?”

“Sure did. Do the best you can. He’s got fifteen hundred head coming in tonight on the train, so he’ll have a long night in the saddle.”

“Are you Mrs. Roosevelt?”

“No, my husband is a cousin from New York City. We came out to go hunting with Theodore.” That was the last lie she and JC concocted before he left the ranch. He thought it would be easier for her if she had a direct connection to TR. And now, even though she hadn’t practiced telling that lie, it rolled right off her tongue so quickly she almost believed it herself.

She glanced around, looking for an empty stall or a tack room where she could clean up, but all the stalls were full, and a chuckwagon blocked the only door that could lead to a tack room. Just as well. She didn’t want to keep TR waiting.

She grabbed her saddlebags but didn’t want to carry the damp buffalo robe. “Do you mind if I spread this out here? Mr. Roosevelt put it on when he came out of the ice pond, and it’s wet.”

“Sure.” He took the robe and laid it out on top of a stack of hay bales.

“Thanks. I’m going to meet Mr. Roosevelt for dinner at the hotel. We’ll be back in an hour.”

“This Arabian is a beautiful horse. Never seen one like him. Shines like gold.”

“He’s an Akhal-Teke, an endurance horse, and gentle as a lamb.”

“His hooded eyes are unusual.”

“Selective breeding by ancient armies who wanted to intimidate enemies with horses that looked like dragons.”

“Dragons, huh?” The owner cocked his head. “Seen a picture of a dragon once. I can’t say I agree, but he does look different from other horses.”

“Just don’t try to ride him. He’s loyal and can be ferocious.” She rubbed Tesoro’s forehead. “I’ll be back after I eat. Get some rest, boy. We’re going to have a long night.” Tesoro nudged her shoulder, and she chuckled.

Before she reached the door, she turned back, and she saw something in Tesoro’s marbled brown eyes, a look that said he knew the future and wanted her to know he would always protect her.

I know you will, dear Tesoro.

She tried to shake the feeling as she hurried over to the Pyramid Park Hotel—a crude, nondescript two-story, rectangular building. Still, the feeling lingered like the taste of fine wine, or the emotions evoked by a good romance novel, or the exhilaration of completing a distance race.

Once inside the hotel, she was back to normal.

A corner of the large ground floor served as the manager’s office, dominated by a rough desk with a small showcase of brightly labeled cheap cigars. Surely TR wouldn’t smoke one of those. She’d gag if he did. Good-smelling cigars reminded her of her grandfather, but stinky ones evoked memories of the drunk driver who killed her dad.

Arranged along the walls were several chairs and benches, all unoccupied right now, and in another corner stood a makeshift sink with tin basins. Dirty towels hung on wall racks. That’s it? She glanced around.

They sure don’t expect women to stay here. Well, to hell with it.

It wasn’t