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

but I suppose you’re right. So what’s really on your mind? I know it’s not reed instruments.”

He smiled. “You have an interesting sense of humor.”

“Thank you, but I know that’s not on your mind, either. Whatever it is, it must be serious because either worry or concern has darkened your blue eyes.”

He blinked as if that could wipe away whatever she saw there. “What do you see?”

She cocked her head and studied him. He still didn’t look like the Teddy Roosevelt she knew from old photographs, but he was changing before her eyes. Or maybe it was just the trail dust seeping into pores and thin creases on his face and tinting his brown hair prematurely gray.

“Uncertainty, I think,” she said.

“I’m putting you on the left flank this afternoon unless you want to stay with the wagon.”

She wasn’t expecting that and doubted it was the cause of whatever troubled him. “I want to go where I can be the most helpful,” she said. “If you want me on the left flank, that’s where I’ll go.” And then she knew what was bothering him. “You’re taking back control of the drive, aren’t you? And you want to know what I think about the switch-up. Right?”

He straightened out his legs and leaned back on his hands. “I’m taking your advice. One mess-up is one too many. The men are hungry, and their jobs are hard enough without missing meals.”

“You should be the trail boss. You have more invested in the herd than anyone else.”

“But Barney—”

“But Barney messed up,” she said with a shrug. “Everybody’s working hard on this drive, and the guys will help with whatever is necessary. You’re overthinking this. You have more courage and common sense than all the men here put together. And you’ll do great.”

“We must all dare to be great, Ensley.”

“We must?” If she wanted to write the next Great American Novel, then she should take his advice and dare to be great, too.

“Greatness is the fruit of toil, sacrifice, and courage. We must live and risk wearing out rather than rusting out.”

“That’s profound, Teddy.” She made a mental note to use it in the book she was going to write. “Is that a line you’ve written for a book?”

“No, just a thought I had.”

“There’s not a chance in Hades you’ll ever rust out. You never stop. You live each day as if it could be your last.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “When I was at Harvard, I was told by a doctor that I might die of a heart attack and that I should give up exercise.”

“It’s obvious you took that doctor’s advice,” she said straight-faced.

He pursed his lips, thinking about what she said. “If I’d taken his advice, I would have died of boredom.”

“And rusted,” she added, knowing he struggled to understand her sense of humor. It was fun teasing him. “I think you’re much happier than you would have been staying home doing scientific experiments and reading every book you could lay your hands on.”

“While that sounds enticing, I would lose my mind if I couldn’t go hunting.”

“Maybe someday you’ll be in a position to encourage all Americans to exercise.” Like when you’re president.

Just then, they heard wagon wheels rumbling over the uneven ground, and they jumped to their feet. “It’s about time. Let’s eat and get back on the trail,” TR said.

An hour later, after a quick lunch, the riders all rotated positions, and she and TR rode the left flank and swing positions for the afternoon. “It’ll be a hard ride, Ensley. The cattle are difficult enough to handle without the hardship of crossing the Badlands.”

She’d ridden over the Badlands hundreds of times, with all its tangled mass of rugged hills and winding defiles, and even walked a good part of it. But she’d never crossed it with a thousand head of cattle. She had to agree with TR, especially since the temperature was dropping. Norman might well get the snow he forecasted.

When they stopped for the day, Ensley dropped to the ground just as large flakes of snow started drifting down from the sky. If not for the strong winds, she would never have gotten up. But the bad weather forced TR to order the cattle moved to a sheltered valley.

“Ensley, stay here.”

She drew the buffalo robe tighter around her. “No can do. I’m not staying behind while everyone else is working in this bad weather. Besides, if I stand still, I’ll rust. Then what’ll happen to me?”

This time he realized she was joking, and he laughed. “I’ll tell Norman to give you some bacon grease to keep you well-oiled.”

“Gee, thanks. That’ll help a lot.”

It was freezing while they herded the cattle into the sheltered valley. Cold didn’t bother her as long as she was dressed for it, which she wasn’t, but her thin, sweat-wicking socks didn’t insulate her feet like wool ones, and her cotton scarf didn’t come close to a poly-spandex neck gaiter.

By the time she returned to camp, she couldn’t feel her feet or her cheeks.

She slept in fits and starts and finally got settled just as Norman woke her up. No wonder she was shivering. There was frigging snow on the ground.

The snow melted quickly, and within a day, they were sweltering in the heat.

The river remained flooded, so they drove the cattle onto the higher plains, which caused another delay. A cattle drive that was supposed to take three days was turning into much longer, and opportunities to talk with TR grew shorter and more infrequent.

Living in the lap of nineteenth-century luxury at MacKlenna Farm was sounding better every day.

I hope you’re enjoying it, JC.

35

MacKlenna Farm, KY (1885)—Elliott

Elliott was enjoying breakfast alone in the dining room, which except for the wallpaper and drapes, hadn’t changed much in two hundred years. Every piece of furniture had been meticulously polished and maintained by a long line of MacKlennas. The food, though, was extraordinary, as was the special blend of coffee beans.

“Excuse