Hero Of The Flint Hills. Cassandra Austin

giggled and jumped into his arms. He swung her around again. Up close, Lynnette could see how tightly they held each other, how their cheeks pressed together. The envy she had felt before was replaced with a longing not quite so sisterly. She was staring again. Even as she turned to reach for the bags she had a feeling he had noticed her interest.

      A moment later, Emily was on her feet and all three were gathering up the bags, with Christian taking the largest share.

      “You ladies ever hear of traveling light?” he asked, leading the way to the wagon.

      “Not me,” said Emily. “We each have a trunk besides.”

      Christian let out an exaggerated groan as he set the bags down beside the wagon and retrieved his hat. “Come show them to me, Em.” He tugged on one of Emily’s curls. As they walked away, Lynnette heard his teasing. “I better braid your hair before we head home. Wouldn’t you like that? Two nice little pigtails like you used to wear?” Emily squealed and tried to pull her hair out of his reach.

      Lynnette watched them as they found the trunks in front of the luggage car. She tried to think of a word to describe the way he moved. Lithe, she decided, and wondered if he knew how to dance. When Christian hoisted Emily’s trunk to his shoulder and started across the platform, Lynnette turned away, pretending to study her surroundings. She didn’t want him to look at her and guess she had been imagining herself dancing in his arms.

      He dropped the trunk to the wagon bed and pushed it forward, then turned to lean against the wagon while he caught his breath. “Real tight pigtails,” he said to Emily, as if carrying the trunk had only been a momentary interruption in his teasing. “So you always look surprised.” He raised his eyebrows to demonstrate, and Emily hit him in the stomach.

      He merely grinned and headed back for Lynnette’s trunk. Lynnette hadn’t been certain what she would need on the ranch and, along with every imaginable type of clothing, she had packed several books and lots of writing supplies. It hadn’t occurred to her until she watched Christian try to lift the trunk just how big and heavy it was.

      He didn’t waste time struggling with it but got the porter to help. When the two men had shoved the trunk into the back of the wagon, Christian gave the man a coin. “Thanks for the help,” he said. “You know how it is. You go away for the summer, you just have to take your favorite anvil.”

      Lynnette tried to swallow her embarrassment. She felt a need to apologize, but before she could, Emily applied another blow to Christian’s stomach. “Quit teasing!” The girl walked demurely to the front of the wagon and waited, one hand out limply, for Christian to help her in. Christian tossed Lynnette a persecuted look before following obediently. He reached for the hand as if to assist the girl, but grabbed her waist and lifted her instead. Emily giggled.

      He held a hand toward Lynnette, indicating she was \\ next. She was almost afraid to approach him. He grinned a challenge. She stepped forward with no small amount of trepidation, but he merely steadied her as she climbed aboard.

      The seat seemed rather narrow, and Lynnette was uncertain how to make room for Christian. The wagon rocked as he sprang into the bed behind them. She retreated to the side, pulling her skirts out of the way, as he climbed over the seat to sit between her and Emily.

      Emily seemed less concerned about her skirts. “Why didn’t you bring the buggy?”

      “And do what with the trunks?” He reached across Lynnette to untie the reins from the hand brake and release it. Lynnette tried to shrink out of his way and wasn’t entirely successful. It somehow embarrassed her to be this close to a man she had just met. Doubly so when he seemed capable of ignoring the contact.

      “You could have taken our trunks in the wagon, and Arlen could have driven us in the buggy.” Emily emphasized Arlen, making it sound like a preferable arrangement.

      “Arlen’s off shaking hands and kissing babies.”

      Lynnette felt a twinge of guilt. It hadn’t occurred to her to question why Arlen hadn’t met the train. In fact at that moment she could barely call up an image of Arlen’s face. She wished she could see Emily; she and Arlen looked so much alike. When she tried, she ended up studying Christian’s profile.

      He looked nothing like either of them. One sandybrown eyebrow arched above an incredibly blue eye. Well, she knew there was a matched set, but she could only see one. She knew also that the tanned cheek could crease into a charming dimple. His strong, lean jaw contrasted with his full lips. Exactly what color were those lips? Carnation? No, not quite so bright. Rose, then? Perhaps. A pink rose at dusk.

      The lips curved up into a grin that revealed white even teeth. Lynnette jumped, her attention quickly shifting to his eyes—both of them. When had he caught her staring? She couldn’t have been more mortified if he had winked. The humor in his eyes made her think he would do it. She pretended to look beyond him toward Emily, but he had to know she couldn’t see her. Emily was talking, she realized, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to make any intelligent response. After a moment, she turned away.

      Lynnette thanked God she wasn’t prone to blushing. He could be debating between scarlet and crimson. She resolutely turned her attention to the countryside. Their route wandered a little through rocky hills, climbing ever higher, and Christian’s leg pressed against her own. She was sure she felt its heat soak through her heavy skirt. She tried to scoot farther away, noticing how the trees seemed greener and fresher here than in the city.

      She took in a deep breath of the summer-ripe air. She identified the scent of wind-tossed dust, growing vegetation, a faint hint of horse, soap and sun-dried clothes. She wanted to groan. She had never been so preoccupied with a man before.

      She only noticed everything about him because she was a writer, she told herself. She looked for details. She liked to try to describe what she saw and touched. Possible descriptions of the man sitting next to her made her fingers tremble.

      She would block him out. It was much more useful to describe the countryside. The…hills…grass…

      Christian cleared his throat.

      Lynnette closed her eyes for a moment. She had to get her imagination under control. It was fatigue, of course, that made it so difficult.

      “Arlen should be back sometime tomorrow,” he said.

      Lynnette turned toward him; she really had no choice without being rude. My, but he was attractive.

      After she’d gazed for a moment into sky-blue eyes, his words found their way to her brain. Arlen. Tomorrow. He expected a response. She wasn’t sure what she should say. That she was dying to see Arlen again? When she couldn’t remember what he looked like except he didn’t have full lips or dimples or blue-blue eyes? Besides it didn’t sound quite proper.

      “I’m grateful to your family for letting me visit this summer,” she ventured.

      He eyed her oddly for a moment then turned his attention back to the team. Lynnette supposed it hadn’t sounded particularly romantic.

      “How’s Papa?” Emily asked. “Catch me up on everything.”

      “Well,” Christian began, “Papa’s fine. Nothing much slows him down. Perry broke his leg last winter, but he’s healing.” He turned to Lynette. “Perry’s our hired man.”

      Lynnette nodded, too rattled by their earlier exchange to think clearly. He must have taken her lack of response as lack of interest. He made no further effort to include her as he described the health and activities of several people whom she did not know. She hung on every word, trying to associate each name with each situation. She wasn’t merely captivated by his voice.

      When Christian mentioned Elayne was due to foal in a few weeks, Emily leaned forward to inform Lynnette, “I named her. Elayne was Sir Lancelot’s mother.”

      Christian turned to Lynnette. “You know what she was reading the summer we got the mare.”

      “It’s a great