Cassandra Austin

Cassandra Austin by Hero Of The Flint Hills Page B

Book: Cassandra Austin by Hero Of The Flint Hills Read Free Book Online
Authors: Hero Of The Flint Hills
sister. She had gone to the tack room and was struggling with her saddle. Christian took it from her and headed toward a stall. “You remember Trooper?” he asked her as he threw the blanket over the gray’s back. “He’s Jake’s favorite.”
    He glanced at Emily in time to see her wrinkle her nose. When the horse was saddled he led him toward his sister. “You almost missed me, Muffin. Why didn’t you ask to go at lunch?”
    Emily shrugged and stepped forward, ready to mount. Christian made no move to help her, waiting for her answer. Finally she turned toward him, stomping a foot. “If you must know, I didn’t want her to ask to go, too.”
    Christian keep his face straight. “So you lied and then abandoned her.”
    “She’s Arlen’s guest not mine.”
    Christian decided he needed to remind himself of the same thing—hourly. “And why didn’t you want her to come with us?” He was afraid his voice caught on the words. He was already imagining it, imagining her in a pair of tight jeans.
    “She’s all right, I guess, but I just got home, and Iwant some time with you. Besides, she doesn’t know how to ride. You’d have to spend all your time helping her. She’d slow us down, and you’d probably have to bring her back early. No. I’d have to bring her back so you could get your work done.”
    Christian tried not to grin. He bent to give Emily a leg up. “You convinced me,” he said.
    Lynnette had just opened the balcony door when she heard Emily shout. It took a moment for her eyes to reconcile what she was sure she had heard. She would have believed the person hurrying into the barn was a boy if she hadn’t heard Emily’s voice, and seen the bobbing braid.
    Christian had gone into the barn, leaving his horse tied outside. Lynnette stepped onto the balcony. She had intended to move the desk chair to the balcony and bring her notebook outside. She stood for a moment considering. She shouldn’t let the appearance of Christian and Emily change her plans. Besides, wouldn’t it be better for them to look up and see her happily engaged than to catch her lurking about in the doorway?
    In a moment, she was seated with her notebook on her lap and her ink bottle and rag on a step stool beside her. She would write a story about a young rancher, something she would never have dreamed of doing back in Topeka. Her rancher would fight off rustlers and gunmen to save his ranch and the woman he loved. Maybe his beloved could dress in men’s clothes at some point in her story. No, that would be tooshocking to accept. She must be sweet and demure with maybe a touch of independence.
    Lynnette was busily scribbling notes when the pair emerged from the barn, Emily already mounted. She was so engrossed in her work that she was surprised she noticed their return. She watched Christian walk the few strides to his horse and swing gracefully aboard. The slightest touch controlled the horse and soon he moved across the yard, Emily close beside him. She gazed at the long leg and booted foot resting easily in the stirrup. She noticed the way the breeze billowed the loose shirt and ruffled the ends of his long hair…but only because she needed to describe him.

Chapter Five
    I t was all going very well. Lynnette had scratched pages and pages of notes and had plotted out her entire story. She had most of the first scene down on paper and the next two fairly well in mind.
    A movement in the corner of her vision broke her concentration, and, as she lifted her head, her stiff shoulders screamed in protest. She had been hunched over the notebook in her lap for far too long. She flexed her shoulders as she looked up to see what had caught her attention. Three riders were making their way down the winding trail from the bluff.
    The shadows had grown long while she sat absorbed in her work. It must have been the fresh air or the rustic surroundings that had her so inspired she was able to work for hours.
    She wiped her pen on the rag

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