Never Trust A Cowboy. Kathleen Eagle

black hair, chiseled cheekbones, angular jaw and no white-above-the-eyebrows farmer tan on this cowboy’s face. Unless she was mistaken, he’d be head-to-toe brown. Lakota, probably. It took her a moment to turn her attention to her father. “Del caught me before I walked right into the fray.”

      “How awful. I hate snakes of any kind.” June gave a tight end-of-story smile. “And I really hope you’ll start joining us for supper regularly, Lila.”

      “I didn’t have any kids today. Del helped me look for Bingo. I’ve been searching on horseback, still haven’t found him.” She lifted one shoulder. “So I was...in the neighborhood.”

      “I haven’t seen the pup at all lately.” Frank turned to his wife. “Have you? You’ve been out quite a bit getting groceries and whatnot.”

      “I thought he always stayed around your yard,” June said, turning to Lila.

      Lila nodded. “That’s why—”

      “Bingo is the first dog we’ve had around here since Lila left for college,” June explained, apparently for Del’s information. “I’m not a dog person. Kind of allergic.” She turned to Lila. “I think that’s why you decided to move into the old place when you came back, isn’t it?”

      “That’s my house,” Lila said.

      “I know, but it’s as old as the pyramids, all dark and depressing. We’d like to see more of you. That’s all I’m saying.”

      “I’m not far away, June. You have to drive past my house to get to the highway. We see each other all the time.” Lila welcomed the mental distance that slid over her like a cool cloud. “And your hired hands are always perfectly positioned to keep an eye on me.”

      “That happens to be where the bunkhouse is,” Brad said. “The men don’t give you any trouble, do they? You tell me if they do. I never hire anybody without checking him out. And I don’t tell them to keep an eye on you.” He turned to Del. “I never told you to spy on her, did I?”

      Del shook his head. “This was a fine meal.” He tucked his napkin under the edge of his plate and slid his chair back from the table. “It’s been a long time since I had any homemade bread. Sure was good.”

      “Now, listen, you tell her I never said anything about—”

      Del chuckled. “In my line of work you quickly learn when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. Hold your tongue, fold your napkin and leave the table.” Which he did, all but the tongue-holding part. His calm, cool parting shot was aimed at Brad. “I can handle most any chore, but spyin’ ain’t one of ’em.” He nodded at June. “Thank you, ma’am.”

      * * *

      Lila found Del in the barn currying the buckskin. He’d had time to saddle up after making that break for it, killing the time she’d allowed to pass before she left the house. Nothing further had been said on the subject after he left. Maybe they all felt ridiculous. Keep an eye on her. If Brad had asked—and she had her doubts about that—Del would have refused. She’d only been around him for a few hours, but she’d learned a lot, and she had no doubt he would have said no.

      “So that was awkward, huh?” She ducked under one of the cross ties and scratched Hombre’s throatlatch. “I’m sorry.”

      “Forget it. Whatever that was about, it’s for you guys to deal with.”

      “But we put you in an uncomfortable spot, and I’m—”

      “Don’t apologize. It had nothing to do with me.” He glanced at her. “Unless you think otherwise?”

      “I don’t. I know you wouldn’t go along with anything like that.” She smiled. “I realize we just met, but I’m a pretty good judge of character. Brad can’t push you into doing anything you don’t want to. I’m surprised you’re still here.”

      “I’m here to work, and I’ve been at this kind of work long enough to know when to excuse myself from the table.” He ran his hand down the horse’s back and patted his rump. “I’m the one who owes an apology. I asked you to come with me for supper, and then I didn’t show up.”

      “You were working.”

      “I don’t know what I was thinking. Should’ve taken my own pickup instead of getting in with Brad. But now that I’ve got this guy...” He lifted a familiar black saddle onto the buckskin’s back. “Brad didn’t tell me he was Frank’s. You think he minds?”

      “I think he’s glad to have you ride him.”

      “Is he a good judge of character, too?”

      “Sometimes. He’s already taken a shine to you.”

      “So...” He gave the saddle cinch a firm tug. “Would you like some company on the ride back to your ancient digs?”

      She smiled. “Would you like a tour of the ruins when we get there?”

      “You got any mummies?”

      “I had one, but she died when I was twelve. Now I just have a stepmummy.” She gave a shy smile. She knew she was being too cute by half. She was far afield of her comfort zone. “You?”

      “Mine’s dead, too. So’s my dad. Been a while, so, uh...” He lowered the stirrup. “We should cover new ground on the way back. I didn’t get much chance to look close, flying around the pasture in Brad’s pickup—hey, that man sure has a lead foot—but I tried to be on the lookout. You know, for...any kind of sign.”

      “See what I mean? You’re obviously a nice man.”

      “You want me to throw a saddle on that pretty black?”

      “I pull out my own chair and saddle my own horse.” She smiled. “But thanks for the thought.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He touched his hat brim. “Always thinking.”

      * * *

      The sun hovered above the sawtooth horizon and the air was still, leaving the horses to stir the grass and offering the crickets a quiet setting for their serenade. Lila had covered the side of the road before supper, so they took the south side, zigzagging separately, cutting across a wide swath. She knew the odds of finding anything weren’t great, but every search was a chance, and she wouldn’t rest until she knew for sure. She’d adopted Bingo from a shelter in Rapid City, and he’d seen her through some lonely times.

      “Was he sick or anything?”

      Lila looked up and saw Del staring at something on the ground. His dismount was as fluid as any she’d ever seen. Reins in hand, he squatted on his heels, picked something up and sniffed it.

      “C’mon, Jackpot.” She trotted her horse in his direction. “Anything?”

      “Too old.” He stood up and tossed his discovery. “A piece of something hairy, but all dried up.”

      “Why do I have a feeling you haven’t always been a cowboy?”

      “I don’t know.” He used the horn as a fulcrum and swung back into the saddle without benefit of a stirrup. Grinning like the boy who’d taken a run and jumped all the way over the creek, he adjusted his hat. “Maybe I started out as a trick rider.”

      She narrowed her eyes, considering, and shook her head. “What else you got?”

      “I like to work my way up, one surprise at a time. Keeps ’em guessing.” He braced his forearm over the horn and took a turn studying her. “Where’d you go to college?”

      “Minneapolis.” He’d started moving. She nudged her gelding to catch up. “Were you ever a cop?”

      He gave her an incredulous look, caught himself and laughed. “How did you come up with that?”

      “The way you examined the evidence.”