The Cowboy Comes Home. Linda Ford

married Abe—when she married Abe, she corrected. “No one can replace your mother.” She let the words sink in.

      “I betcha Linc didn’t wash his hands when he camped out with cows.”

      “I have no idea if he did or didn’t, but I noticed how well he cleaned up before coffee.” She’d noticed far too well, taking in how his face shone from the scrubbing and how his hair, bleached almost blond on the ends but darker where it had been hidden from the sun, had been plastered back in an attempt to tame the curls. How they slowly returned to their own wayward tangle.

      She’d had to refrain from checking her hair to see if her curls were doing likewise. “He cleaned up really well.” Her words had a difficult time squeezing past the tightness in her throat.

      Robbie studied her reply for a moment, then bolted to his feet to race across the yard. He didn’t slow down as he passed her, nor did he glance toward her. His whole attitude clearly said he would wash up because a man like Linc, a man he admired, had done so. He would not do it to please Sally. No siree.

      She sighed and followed him inside. Would she and Robbie ever have anything but an uneasy truce? She didn’t have time to think about that at the moment with dessert to finish, potatoes to mash and the meat to check. She took dishes from the top shelf—the best everyday dishes—found a red checkered tablecloth and set the table as nicely as she could. Too bad she didn’t have flowers to put in a vase in the middle of the table.

      This meal would be flawless. Abe would see that she could run his home as well as any woman.

      Robbie came from the back room, water dripping from his ears. He’d combed his hair back.

      “You look very spiffy.”

      He jerked to a halt and gave her a look fit to fry her skin. “I do not.”

      Instantly she realized she’d offended him. Actually, it was pretty hard to miss. She knew exactly what she’d done wrong. She’d made him sound like a sissy. “You’re right. You look like a frontier man. Maybe even a cowboy. Ready to get out and ride.”

      He held her gaze a moment then tipped his chin in barely there acknowledgment before he crossed to the table with a faintly familiar swagger.

      She didn’t have to think hard to know where she’d seen it before. Robbie had done his best to imitate Linc’s rolling gait.

      No, she definitely wasn’t the only one in this house to be affected by his presence. She stiffened her spine and held her chin high. Only she wasn’t a child. She was an adult who knew exactly what she wanted. A stable life, a nice home. No way she’d ever consider camping out on the prairie to be something romantic.

      The strains of “Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,” echoed through her head. She meant every word of the song.