But her parents had won out, as parents had a way of doing. It would be good for her, they’d promised in a way that she’d known meant she was going to be bored silly. She’d given in and gone along so they’d get it over with, and she could visit the carousel.
The museum was large, a converted palace, with huge corridors stretching this way and that. She remembered how loud her footsteps had sounded on the marble floors and she’d had this tendency to want to tiptoe and whisper.
But from the first painting, she had been enthralled.
It had seemed so easy then. She’d learn to draw and paint and have her paintings hanging in museums. Ha! It was, without a doubt, the hardest thing she’d ever done. For all the hard work, for all the gnashing of teeth and pounding of fists, she’d stayed with it, because every time she walked away, she couldn’t escape. Scenes, paintings were everywhere she looked. Ideas seemed to haunt her, to materialize right in front of her. She had to paint, that’s all there was to it.
Mama had been her champion until she died. Alex missed her terribly. True to her mother’s faith in her, she’d continued, returning to Paris to finish her studies. Then, just when things were breaking for her, her father had wired for her to return home. He’d cited recent changes in certain European governments; a fear of trouble brewing was his cryptic comment. She had been shocked, disappointed. She had wired back, asked for extensions but she hadn’t been able to delay the inevitable.
That had been almost a year ago. She had asked to return to France. Her father always had excuses, reasons, most of which had something to do with her darling baby brother.
Yes, Davy was always in trouble, but it was always innocent. Who could stay angry at him when he smiled? He had a smile that would melt a witch’s heart.
Davy and Alex. Alex and Davy. Over the years, they’d been a team. When they’d been little, she’d been the brains and he’d been the brawn. In other words, she thought up the mischief and he carried it out.
Her ears were still ringing with the lecture. She was convinced Papa had it written down somewhere—either that or he’d memorized the darn thing because, every time, it was the same, word for word. They must conform. Good boys and girls didn’t behave in such a manner. They had a reputation to uphold. He had a reputation to uphold as San Francisco’s leading banker.
She and Davy had tried to take it seriously. They’d tried to conform. Mostly they’d tried not to recite the speech along with him.
Mama had encouraged them both to follow their dreams. Alex had pursued her art but Davy, being the only son, had been expected to come into the family business and so his dream of writing the great American novel was never realized. Perhaps that was why they were so close, why they’d always supported each other…until that day six months ago. The day of Davy’s banishment.
Those first few days she couldn’t have felt any more guilty if they’d sold their favorite puppy to wandering gypsies.
Yes, Davy had gotten out of hand. Yes, his gambling debts far exceeded any income he could earn, which he didn’t. Yes, he had been spending an inordinate amount of time at a certain saloon on the Barbary Coast and the rumor was there was a woman.
Her father had convinced her that they must send Davy away for his own good.
His own good. She’d said those words like a litany for days before and weeks after. Now, having seen Gunlock…
She shook her head. No wonder Davy had taken off. There were no stores, no theaters, nothing to occupy a young man’s idle time. It was a miracle he’d lasted as long as he had. Cowboying must have sounded very exciting to Davy.
Cowboys were the stuff of dime novels, of adventure, of romance, of men like Josh Colter—dark, powerful, dangerous with warm sable eyes that seemed to look right through her and into her soul. A delicious warmth curled in her stomach and moved out through bone and flesh. She swallowed hard.
Never mind him. Get your mind back on business.
Yes, business. She stiffened and snatched back any further thoughts of the tempting Mr. Colter. Up ahead, a dust devil whirled across their path and disappeared in the grassland. She dragged in a calming breath, the tangy scent of sage sharp and refreshing. The sun continued to warm her face, adding to the heat that had stirred inside her.
Spring, the time for things new and bright and fresh, and sometimes for infatuation. Ah, of course, that was probably why she was feeling all this… this attraction.
About an hour before sunset, Eddie veered off the trail and headed for a grove of cottonwoods near a stream. They’d put in a long day. Judging by her stiff back, it was more than long enough. Besides, this was the only shade for miles.
“I’ll take care of the horses,” he told her, jumping down from the wagon seat. His hat fell off. He snatched it up and slapped it on his thigh a couple of times. “See if you can find some firewood.” He tossed the hat up onto the seat.
Alex climbed down without help. She was getting used to this wagon business.
She peered at him over the edge of the wagon box. “Firewood?”
“Down by the stream,” Eddie added, with a chuckle at her uncertain expression.
“Of course.” Come on; Alex, where else would you find wood except down by the trees. “How much wood?”
“An armful will get us started. Try to find some different sizes, not all big ones, okay?”
“Okay.”
Walking felt good. The muscles in her bottom were tight as a well-stretched canvas and moving, flexing, really helped. What she needed was a feather pillow, the one thing she’d forgotten.
Camping wasn’t going to be easy, she could tell that right now. Thank goodness, she had Eddie to take care of the horses and cook.
She reminded herself that she’d better get the firewood or there wouldn’t be any dinner, and she was hungry. The cold meat and crackers they’d had for lunch wasn’t exactly sticking to her ribs.
At the top of the embankment, she hesitated, sizing up the slope. There was only one way down.
She hitched up her skirt, yards of green linen and more yards of white petticoats, and looped it all over one arm like a cape. The other she kept free to use for balance. Good thing, because two steps down her foot sank and twisted. She lost her balance and ran the last three steps to keep from falling.
“Well, that was graceful,” she spoke out loud.
Tucking her hair back behind both ears, she took another second or two to collect herself. The stream bubbled along in front of her, pooling in a particularly deep spot on the opposite side. The soft soil was rich and dark and the air was moist. Ferns, green and lush, sprouted around a large rock at the edge of the pool. Overhead, a songbird chirped its cheerful song. Now this was more like it.
Her grumbling stomach was an urgent reminder that she needed to get moving. Ten minutes later she had an armful of wood and, going up the embankment, she was careful to sidestep slowly. She made it with no trouble.
She spotted Eddie near the wagon, where he’d tied the team to the rear wheel. He had a horse’s hoof balanced on his bent knee.
She shifted the wood to the other arm, unmindful of the dirt smudging the front of her shirtwaist. “Is he okay?”
“I think so.” Hanging on to the hoof, Eddie positioned himself around