Carolyn Davidson by Runaway

clothing; her mouth pinched tightly as she measured the pants that formed to Cassie’s slender legs, and the disapproving tone of her voice could not be mistaken.
    “You didn’t answer me, Will. How long has this gal been ridin’ with you?”
    Will’s jaw set in a manner that had become familiar to Cassie over the past days. Her fingers tightening within his grip, she tugged at his hand.
    His fleeting glance told her that his temper was about to erupt, his eyes darkening with a silent fury she could not fail to recognize. His mouth set in a mutinous line and hegathered Cassie closer to his side, ignoring her soundless efforts to gain his attention.
    “Long enough,” he grated. “We met in Texas, Ma. She was in a bind, and I figured since I was raised to be a gentleman, I’d give her a hand.”
    “Made her your woman, did you? Doesn’t look good, a young girl traveling with two men,” his mother said accusingly, her eyes assessing Cassie without mercy. “No matter how you slice it, her reputation’s ruined.”
    “She is Warrior’s Woman,” Many Fingers said sternly, stepping forward to align himself with Will.
    “You’re claimin’ her, too?” Her look incredulous, Will’s mother faced the Indian.
    He shook his head. “No. She belongs to Brave One. Your son.”
    “He’s talking about you, Will?” As if her head were on a swivel, his mother’s attention spun to him, and Will nodded agreeably.
    “She is wife to your son,” Many Fingers put in.
    A look of relief swept her features as the older woman relaxed visibly. “Well, why in tarnation didn’t somebody say so right off?” she asked smartly.
    Will’s mouth opened, ready to refute the words that marked him a married man, and then, with a quick glance at Cassie, thought better of it. This conversation needed to take place in private. Explanations to his mother might be long and loud, and this wasn’t the time or place.
    “I’m about to get supper started. Bring your things in and get those horses out to the barn.” Turning her back to the trio, Will’s mother went into the house, leaving Cassie openmouthed in her wake.
    “Will!” It was a squeak of protest and as such Will felt the need to squelch it.
    “I’ll make everything clear to her after supper, Cassie,”he said quietly, his mouth next to her ear. “Just go on in, and I’ll bring our gear along in a few minutes.”
    He watched as she followed his mother into the kitchen, then turned to Many Fingers. “Let’s get these animals fed and put up for the night.”
    The Indian nodded agreement, and together they headed for the barn. Will’s mouth tightened as he noted the broken hinge on the big door, the musty smell of last year’s hay and the clutter of tools and harness that littered the floor.
    “Looks like my brothers haven’t spent much time in keepin’ things up,” he said, bending to pick up a hammer.
    Many Fingers nodded. “It takes a man full-time to work a farm.” Dropping the reins of the horses he led, he hauled the pack mule past the wide doorway, tying the lead rope to a ring on the wall. “I’ll unsaddle the horses. You can tend to your gear.”
    “I suspect you’ll have to sleep in the barn,” Will told him. “There’s only three bedrooms in the house.”
    Many Fingers nodded. “I’ve slept in worse places. Don’t think your ma would let me inside, anyway.”
    “You’ll come in to eat,” Will said bluntly.
    Many Fingers’ deft movements loosened the cinch and slid Will’s saddle from the stallion. “I’ll stay on here for a while and help out, if that’s all right with you,” he offered, carrying the saddle a few feet down the wide aisle, where he placed it over a sawhorse.
    Will’s survey was short as he cast a look down the walkway between stalls, noting the general disorder. “Looks like I’m gonna need all the help I can get. I won’t turn you down.”
    “What are you doin’ in my grandma’s barn, mister?” a small voice piped