A dip in an ice cold mountain stream was what he needed to get him thinking straight again. After he checked on Lucky, he’d see about doing just that—even if he had to ride all the way to Taos to do it.
He stumbled out the door and squinted against the blinding sun. Left over rain steamed up from the red earth. The fresh smell of sage lingered in the heavy air, making the world seem like it had just had a perfumed bath. One look at the cracked earth and the cactus-choked yard assured him it was still the same old ugly world. He scanned the long stretch of desert grassland. Surely Langston had sought shelter in town. He’d probably be asking questions about Lorelei. The folks of Arriba weren’t much on information, but this time it wouldn't hurt for Ivar to tell Langston about the supplies Braddock had purchased. Langston would never believe Braddock had bought those things out of the sheer goodness of his heart. Braddock himself didn’t even want to believe it. But here he was with his back aching and his hands blistered from swinging a hammer.
His rational side assured him that capturing Corey Sullivan remained his single-minded purpose. Keeping a naive woman from getting in too much trouble happened to be a not-so-selfish result. Of course, if the first were true, he would have been better served following Sullivan’s trail before the storm obliterated it. Damn. He needed to learn to lie to himself better.
Finding no sign of Langston, Braddock stepped off the porch and marched toward the barn to check on Lucky. Lorelei’s soft grunt, followed by the crunching of dirt, forced him to veer around to the side of the adobe, almost against his will, to check up on her.
Standing a few feet from the adobe’s east side, she smacked at the ungiving earth with a hoe. The fierce morning sun pummeled her with its full force. A large bonnet shadowed her face. Long sleeves covered her arms, and gloves protected her hands. He couldn’t see an ounce of skin. Only a long strand of dark hair, curling toward the ground, betrayed that this was Lorelei.
He was close enough to grab her before she looked up. The lecture her inattention deserved died on his lips. She shot him a smile that left him dazed.
“Good morning. Sleep well?”
“The rain kept me up and the floor was hard.”
Her beautiful smile wilted. It happened as slowly as a leaf fluttering to earth. He felt like he’d just smashed a butterfly under his boot heel.
“I’m sorry. I should have insisted you take the bed after all the hard work you did yesterday. The rain didn’t bother me a bit. Made me feel like I was back home. Give me a minute to clean up and I’ll get your breakfast.”
Braddock broke up a clump of dirt with the toe of his boot. She actually was sorry he hadn’t slept well. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given a damn whether he lived or died, much less cared how he slept. And he’d thought he liked it that way.
“I’ll just check on Lucky.” He glanced at the hoe she had propped against the adobe. “Then I’ll finish whatever you’re trying to do here.”
“Lucky’s fine. I picketed him in the shade of the barn. Once the sun came up, the poor thing was sweltering.”
He swung his gaze in the direction of the barn. Lucky had his head to the ground, scavenging for anything edible that popped up after the rain. “He doesn’t like strangers. He could have hurt you.”
She laughed and removed her green leather gloves. “He’s a sweetheart.”
He raised his eyebrows and she laughed again.
“If you know how to treat him. And I do. My family used to train horses.”
Braddock nodded, unable to dispute the results. Another glance at Lucky proved she did know how to treat him. The big bay munched grass as leisurely as a cow chewing its cud. Braddock reached for the hoe, feeling as docile as his horse. Obviously Lorelei knew how to handle him, too, because it looked like he was going to do some farming.
“I guess you want me to plant something.”
She pulled off her bonnet and he tried not to stare at the cascade of hair that tumbled down her back and over her breasts. The scent of something sweet drifted toward him. He tried to think of the name of the flower, but all he thought was Lorelei—as if she had her own genus.
She fanned herself with her wide-brimmed straw bonnet, fluttering her hair and making it impossible not to stare and even harder not to touch.
“If you could just till while I start the biscuits, I’d appreciate it. I was hoping the soil would be softer after the rain, but I’m afraid it’s not.”
Braddock raked the hoe over the crusted dirt. Even sage brush would have trouble growing here. “What are you planting?”
She shrugged and looked away, as if she read his thoughts. “Just a kitchen garden. I brought our one at home to seed. Maybe a few flowers, too. Roses remind me of my mother.”