To Tame a Cowboy (Colorado Cowboys #3)(13)

He couldn’t think of a response and so watched her mutely.

“You’ll make a very good father someday, Brody.”

He shrugged. Never thought about becoming a father. Never imagined himself living long enough to get married or have children.

“I think you should have at least a dozen babies.”

“A dozen?” His question came out with a note of surprise and a twinge of flirting. Trouble was, he was mighty rusty at flirting. Never had been all that good with it to begin with.

“Yes, maybe two dozen.”

“Don’t get much sleep with one babe. Wouldn’t get any with a dozen.”

Her laughter, soft and lilting, wafted across the dark room, and the tension eased from his shoulders.

“Linnea and Flynn are really lucky to have you doing night duty.”

“That’s why they keep me on.”

She laughed again. And the sound was sweeter than anything he’d heard in a very long time, if ever.

As the silence settled around them once more, Savannah hugged her arms over her chest, but she couldn’t hide a shiver.

He’d installed a stove in Flora’s room the winter she moved upstairs out of her cradle into a bed. But now that it was May, he didn’t light it anymore. Maybe he should . . . for Savannah’s sake.

“You’re cold.” He started toward it in the corner. “I’ll get a fire going.”

“I’ll be alright once I’m back under the covers. . . .”

He was already at the little cast-iron stove before the words left her mouth. He opened the door, then dug into the tin pail beside it for shavings.

“Brody. You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” He laid in the shavings and began layering the twigs.

“Really. I’ll be fine.”

A moment later, he had a small blaze lit. He watched it crackle and pop before standing. When he turned, she was still in the same spot.

“You’ll make some lucky lady a very fine husband.”

The very prospect of marriage shot heat into his neck. “Guess I oughta get me a wife before having those two dozen babes.”

Her laughter rang out louder. She cupped a hand over her mouth and glanced at Flora. The little girl didn’t move, oblivious to their presence. Thankfully. Flora was smart and would pick up on his attraction toward Savannah. No doubt she’d blurt something indecent.

Warmth seeped from the stove, and it wouldn’t be long before it wound through the hallway and into the other two bedrooms—as long as Savannah kept her door open.

His mouth suddenly turned dry. What in the blazes was he doing? He had a hard enough time sleeping, and seeing Savannah from where he lay in bed wasn’t going to make matters easier. Even so, he didn’t want her to be cold.

“You’ll need to keep your door open—at least partway—if you want some heat.” He didn’t dare meet her gaze. “Promise you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about on account of me.”

She was silent, and when he chanced a glance her way, she was studying him. “I know that, Brody. In my prayers tonight, I kept thanking the Lord for letting us meet. I don’t know where I’d be if not for your helping me.”

“Ain’t nothin’.”

“It’s everything.” Her voice rang with sincerity. “Thank you.”

He nodded. Then before he could think of a flirtatious comeback, she tiptoed to her room. He didn’t want their conversation to end. But it was for the best if they didn’t make a regular habit of being together late at night alone in a dark bedroom.

As he exited Flora’s room, a small thrum of anticipation flowed through his blood.

When he reached his bedroom, he forced himself not to look across the hallway to her bed. Instead, in the darkness he shed his garments, letting them fall to a heap on the floor. Then he climbed into bed and stared at the low ceiling.

Savannah’s room was a mirror image of his, with only enough space to hold a bed and a chest of drawers. Each bed was placed lengthwise against the wall opposite of the doorway. The position allowed him to sleep on his side and see into the hallway . . . and into the other room.

He tilted his head to the side. The moon and starlight poured through Savannah’s windowpane and seemed to fall right upon her.

She faced his direction, watching him.

A strange burst of heat surged through his blood.

“Good night, Brody,” she said softly, as if there wasn’t anything unusual about the two of them bedding down a dozen paces away from each other.

“’Night.”

She gazed at him a moment longer before her lashes fluttered closed and sleep claimed her.

He shifted to his side and curled an arm under his head. She was so beautiful with her hair tousled around her and her lashes resting on her cheeks.

But more than her beauty, she radiated peace. A peace he wanted to watch all night long. Maybe if he did, he’d soak in some of it and stave off the nightmares that tortured his soul every time he shut his eyes.





CHAPTER

6


“They’re making target practice of the wild mustangs again!” A young woman’s shout reached Savannah where she knelt in the barn beside a yearling with a fractured leg.

Brody, crouching beside her, stood and went to the wide-open door. Savannah glanced past him to find a woman riding bareback and careening to a halt in the ranch yard a dozen paces away.