“You were right, Mr. Calder,” she said.
“I was? That’s nice to know.” The smile came easily to his mouth. “About what?”
“The well. We found water all right, but it was poisoned with alkali, just like you said it would be,” she admitted. “We’re going to have to depend on a cistern for our water.”
“That’s one time I’d rather have been wrong—for your sake.” He added the last on a husky note.
“We’ll manage.” She sounded confident, then looked around them. “I didn’t know cowboys enjoyed such things as dancing.”
“We don’t spend all our time busting wild broncs and roping cattle like the Wild West Show would make you believe.” Webb recalled that her concept of cowboys had been colored wrongly by that show. “Our tastes are not totally unrefined. Dancing is right up there at the top of the list of a cowboy’s favorite pastimes.”
“Right next to his horse?” she asked with a laughing look.
“Definitely.” He liked her sense of humor. “Our biggest problem around here has been the scarcity of female partners. You could count the number of available women on your fingers. That’s why it was so frustrating for the boys to see all those gals on your side not dancing with anyone. I expected any minute for a couple of the boys to volunteer to be heifer-branded.”
“What’s that?” She tipped her head toward him in the most engaging fashion.
“That’s when a cowboy ties a handkerchief to his sleeve to show he’s willing to dance the female part,” explained Webb. “It’s a desperate measure. But around the bunkhouse, a fella can get pretty desperate for entertainment. They’ve even been known to tie on an apron.”
“Have you ever been heifer-branded?” The gleam in her eye stopped short of actually flirting with him, but the interest was there. Webb could see it, whether she was aware of it or not.
“No. I guess I wasn’t broke to follow someone else’s lead.”
“I can believe that,” Lilli replied.
When the song ended, Webb was slow to let her go. “I was right about something else,” he told her, looking deep into her eyes. “When I noticed you earlier, I was sure the dress matched the color of your eyes. And it does.”
It was the intensity of his gaze, that light that smoldered in it, rather than his compliment that disturbed Lilli. She lowered her head, trying to avoid his look and the sensation it caused in her stomach.
“Thank you.” Withdrawing her hand from his warm grasp, she turned out of his hold to walk back to Stefan.
Webb fell in step to escort her back, but he didn’t want to take her there. He didn’t want to give her back into her husband’s keeping. He was a man; vital instincts surged in him. For the first time in his life, he begrudged the obligation of his word.
When he stopped in front of Stefan Reisner, he knew he was the better man, but there was little solace in it. He handed Lilli into the man’s possession, his features set in grim lines.
“Thank you for the privilege of dancing with your wife, sir.” He inclined his head, his dark eyes flashing.
He didn’t dare look at Lilli again as he walked away.
Across the dance floor, Ruth watched him return to the sidelines as she had watched him since he had arrived, keeping track of where he was and whom he was with. It was something she couldn’t stop doing, even though Webb had not spoken to her once, nor even ventured in her direction.
Her glance ran back to the settler’s woman. Jealousy was a painful feeling. It imprinted all competition clearly in her mind so that she never forgot any female who might be her rival. She remembered the young, auburn-haired girl as the wife of that elderly settler Webb had nearly gotten into a fight with. Despite that, Webb had just danced with her. It worried Ruth, as much as if the girl were single.
As Nate watched Webb striding over to rejoin them, he was reminded of a bull with its tail twisted. A wise rider gave a critter like that a wide berth. He sucked in his breath and said nothing when Webb reached them, letting the others do the talking. If they missed the warning signals, that was their lookout. His glance skipped to the girl in blue, and Nate shook his head in sad dismay for his friend. He guessed he knew what had been eating at him.
“I thought for a while there you weren’t going to pull it off, Webb,” Shorty declared, but he was always the kind to wonder how deep the quicksand was. “Yellow Braids wouldn’t dance with me, but I think I’ll wear her pa down the next time.”
“Is there any whiskey left in that bottle you tucked away in your saddlebag?” Webb gave no sign he’d heard the congratulatory remark.
“Hell, yes!” Shorty confirmed with a wide grin. “And you’ve got the right idea. Let’s go have a drink now that we’ve got ourselves a real party goin’.”
Webb pushed off, plunging through the maze of wagons to the rear where they’d left their horses. The slanting rays of a lowering sun cast long shadows on the ground as a summer wind carried the band’s music away from them. The warm air was pungent with the smell of horses.
Shorty took the whiskey bottle from his saddlebag and tossed it to Webb. “You first.”
It was a case of fighting fire with fire as Webb tried to burn out the anger with a long swallow of the fiery alcohol. It shuddered through him, numbing his senses. Lowering the bottle, he pressed a hand to his mouth, the muscles in his throat paralyzed.
“Jeez, Webb.” Shorty gave him a reproving look as he took the bottle and wiped at the lip with his sleeve. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to slug it all down.”