Samantha and the Cowboy by Lorraine Heath Page B

Her experience as a trail hand would come to an abrupt halt here and now if she did that.
    â€œCookie can sure make that fiddle talk, can’t he?” Squirrel asked.
    â€œYep.”
    â€œI like the fast dances myself. Think Matt likes the slow ones.”
    â€œAppears so,” she said curtly.
    The next tune started up. She saw the girl set her glass aside. Matt took her hand and led her back to the dancearea. Sam didn’t know why she had to feel so sad. Matt was having a good time. She should be happy for him.
    â€œThe girls surely do seem to favor Matt,” Squirrel said.
    They surely did. She heaved a sigh. “How long do you think we’re staying here?”
    â€œâ€™Till Boss says it’s time to go. Some widow has taken a fancy to him, though, so it might be a while.”
    She wondered if she could find her way back to the herd by herself. There were no landmarks to speak of and she was unfamiliar with the area. She didn’t want to risk getting lost and losing her chance to get that money.
    â€œI’m gonna go get something else to eat. Wanna come?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “Nope. But thanks, Squirrel.” She angled her head thoughtfully. “What’s your real name, anyway?”
    â€œYou’ll laugh.”
    She grinned. “No, I won’t.”
    â€œRupert.” He shook his head. “Don’t know what my ma was thinking.”
    â€œShe was probably thinking that she loved you.”
    He grinned. “Reckon. Sure you don’t want to come and eat? In one of the stalls, folks is bobbin’ for apples. Thought I might give that a go.”
    She patted her stomach. “I’m full, but thanks for the invite.”
    He wandered away. She slipped farther into theshadowed corner and searched the dance area until she spotted Matt again.
    Incredibly handsome, he held the girl as though she was a precious gift.
    Listening closely, Sam allowed more than the music to seep inside her. She allowed her imagination in, giving it free rein.
    She imagined she was that girl, encircled by Matt’s strong arms. The flames from the lanterns flickered around her and Matt.
    She was no longer dressed in britches. She was wearing a new dress, sewn from blue calico. She wasn’t wearing boots. She was wearing black shoes buttoned up to her calf. And her hair wasn’t curling over the top of her head. It was cascading down her back to her waist, brushed to a glistening sheen.
    And Matt.
    He was looking at her as though she were the only girl in the barn with whom he wanted to waltz. Their steps began to slow. In her mind, he drew her closer and lowered his mouth to hers…
    The music stopped playing, and she snapped out of her reverie. With disappointment reeling through her, she watched as he walked out of the barn with his arm around the girl. She didn’t want to think about what they might be doing outside.
    Or how badly she wanted him to be doing it with her.
    For pity’s sake! What was wrong with her?
    Several minutes later she saw Matt come back into the barn. The girl sashayed away from him. His hair looked as though she’d repeatedly combed her fingers through it. It hurt Sam too much to think about it.
    Matt began searching the barn. Suddenly his eyes lit upon her and he strode toward her.
    Her heart began pounding and her palms grew damp. He looked so incredibly handsome tonight with his clean-shaven face, his washed and neatly trimmed hair. She had done a good job cutting his hair so she knew exactly what it had felt like when that brazen hussy had run her fingers through it outside.
    Like all the men, he’d bathed in the river and brought out a fresh set of clothes.
    â€œWhy are you hiding over here, Sam?” he asked.
    Because she was terrified that she might do or say something that would give her away. “I’m just not comfortable here, Matt. I really want to go back to the herd.”
    He shook