The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

He was doctor, gravedigger—if the doctoring part didn’t work—equipment repairman, farrier, and could even sew up a cowboy’s ripped jeans, or so she’d been told.

Cowboys could manage most situations as long as there was plenty of strong black coffee. And right now, that was all she wanted. Hopefully, the men left more than the dregs at the bottom of the kettle. If not, that would teach her never to be late again.

As soon as she walked up to the wagon, Norman handed her a plate stacked high with bacon, biscuits, and beans. “I put this aside so the men would leave ya somethin’ to eat.”

She almost laughed at the heap of food she could never finish. “You didn’t have to do this, but thank you. I’ll get here on time tomorrow.”

Norman smiled, showing a mix of yellow teeth and no teeth at all. “I’m pleased to do it, ma’am. If you leave your bedroll, I’ll see that it’s kept dry for ya.”

She flexed her wrist. It didn’t ache. “Do you think it’s going to rain today?”

He dragged a stool up to the chuck box. “It’s not rain that worries me. The temperature’s dropping. We might get snow.”

“Oh, no. Say it ain’t so.” She loved the snow, and with her dried buffalo robe, she was better prepared for cold temperatures than hot, but cold temps put the herd in danger.

“’Fraid so, ma’am.”

She glanced at the stool tucked under a hinged lid bolted to the rear of the chuckwagon and supported by a stout leg.

She didn’t want to invade his workspace. “I can sit by the fire.”

“I figured, you bein’ a lady and all, that you’d appreciate eatin’ at a table, instead of off your lap.” He busied himself with cleaning the pots and pans.

“I don’t feel much like a lady, but I do appreciate your kindness.” Her feel-like-a-lady clothes—suits, silk blouses, and stilettos—were far removed from her life right now. It almost seemed like the stilettos and silk was the fantasy, and the grubby present was the norm.

And maybe it is.

She sat on a ladder-back chair Norman offered, gobbled up the food, and washed it all down with two cups of coffee. She passed on the boiled beans, which she couldn’t stomach for breakfast. When she finished, she cleaned her dishes.

Norman handed her something wrapped in a piece of cloth. “Take this. Ya might get hungry later.”

She unwrapped the cloth and found an apple and two biscuits. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “That’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve received since…I don’t know when.”

Really, she did know. Erik had healed her foot, fed her, and saved her life. Gifts didn’t get much better than those, but Norman’s was also impressive.

“Ain’t nothin’, ma’am, ’cept leftovers.”

He’d invited her to sit at his table, and he gave her the leftovers. It was a sure sign that the cook accepted her, and on a cattle drive, except for TR’s, no one else’s opinion mattered.

She gave Norman her bedroll and headed over to the picket line to saddle Tesoro. She was running a brush over his back when Barney strutted by.

“Ride another mount. You’ll break that horse down if you ride him now. Mr. Roosevelt said you rode him from Elkhorn Ranch without giving him a break.”

Nothing irritated her more than someone telling her how to care for her horse. Unless they were a veterinarian, and Barney certainly wasn’t that. “Thanks for the advice,” she said, her voice full of attitude. “Tesoro is an Akhal-Teke. He’s an endurance horse. If he needs rest, he’ll let me know.”

Barney walked away, mumbling loud enough to be heard clearly, “It’ll be a shame when he goes lame.”

She stroked Tesoro’s forehead. “You heard him. Are you up for this?”

The horse nodded, then nudged her shoulder.

She chuckled. “Who am I to disagree with a magical horse?”

Then TR came by, leading his mount. “No one will question you if you stay with the chuckwagon instead of driving the herd.”

Damn. Does everyone think my horse and I are weaklings?

“I’m not a slacker, Teddy, and you need me. Where do you want me to go? Pointer? Flank? Swing? Or, god forbid, drag?”

He mounted up, and his saddle squeaked as he settled into it. The squeak was about as annoying as jingle bobs on a pair of spurs. “I told Barney he’s in charge. He’ll let you know.”

Great! I don’t have to wonder where I’ll end up, then.

Just then, Barney returned. “You can ride drag and pick up stragglers.”

She turned away from him before rolling her eyes. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it pissed her off. “I’m on it.” She overdid the fake enthusiasm just a bit, but so what?

After saddling Tesoro, she dug her square, red-checkered scarf out of the saddlebag and unfolded the face mask part built into the scarf. It was a brilliant design and even included loops for her ears and a nose bridge strip that she could pinch to conform to her nose.

She tied the scarf loosely around her neck and would keep it that way until the herd stirred up the dust and blew it all back on her. She tipped her hat to Norman and rode out with her morning snack tucked away in her pockets.

Rowe came up beside her. “They’ll graze for a while so the night riders can eat breakfast before we head out.”

Guess they’ll get extra beans instead of biscuits. Sorry about that, guys.

“Are you riding drag, too?” she asked.

“Guess so.” Rowe adjusted his red bandanna to fit over his nose and mouth, and she noticed for the first time a string from a Bull Durham tobacco pouch hanging from his shirt pocket. That would be a great souvenir to take home.

“Mr. Roosevelt says you know what you’re doing. Never been on a drive with a woman ’fore, but since he don’t mind, and he’s the boss, reckon I don’t neither. ’Sides, we gotta have drovers and can’t turn away help. Long as you pull your weight, I