thought of adding that it was just a dance, but he guessed she might get violent. Apparently, this was her grand crusade.
Suddenly she smiled and let go of his arm. He watched as she ran to a circle of young people about her age who'd gathered near the fiddler's stand. They all hugged and squealed, welcoming her into their group.
Unlike her brothers, Sage had attended the little school in Mrs. Dickerson's kitchen after Teagen turned eighteen and it was safe for the McMurrays to leave their ranch. School ran three days a week every fall and spring. If the weather turned bad, the girls spent the night in the widow's parlor, and the boys took the loft in her barn. Ten families were each responsible for a month of provisions and wood for the widow, in exchange for the schooling and occasional lodging of the students. Tobin had been thirteen when they'd rebuilt the bridge. He could have gone to school a few years, but either he thought he was too old or he feared people too much to bother. Travis and Teagen saw no point in trying to make their little brother leave the ranch, so only Sage attended.
Travis couldn't help but laugh as Sage hugged all her friends. He didn't call one person in this part of Texas friend, but his kid sister had more than she could talk to.
Moving into the shadows, he watched her. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if his father and mother had lived and the McMurray boys had been allowed to grow up a little at a time. Maybe Teagen wouldn't be so angry. Maybe Tobin would talk to people. Maybe
Travis took a step backward, hoping to go unnoticed, and slammed into something soft and alive.
'Beg your…' he started as he turned to find a woman, no taller than his shoulder, standing behind him.
Fiery green eyes glared up at him. 'Almost killed me, ye did!' She swore, using words he'd never heard come out of a woman's mouth. 'If ye'd hit me any harder, I'd be dead on the spot.' She rubbed her hands across her body as if checking for broken bones. 'Ye make a habit of backing about in the dark?'
He couldn't hide his grin as Ireland flavored her every word. He wasn't surprised when the hood of her navy cape slipped slightly to reveal red curls.
'I'm sorry. I didn't expect anyone to be standing so close behind me.' He removed his hat and tried to focus enough in the darkness to see her face.
She was small, maybe an inch or two shorter than Sage, and except for a colorful scarf at her throat, covered in dark blue wool. He couldn't help thinking that she would blend almost perfectly with a midnight sky. Still, how could she have gotten so close without him hearing her?
'I wasn't standing behind ye.' She smoothed her hands down her coat and tugged up the hood, almost disappearing into the shadows. 'I was hiding, and I'll thank ye to turn around and go about yer business so I can get back to mine. As far as I'm concerned, ye're a tree growing here in this barn, and I've nothing to say to ye.'
Travis didn't budge. ' 'Tis sorry, I am.' He echoed her accent. 'When did hiding become a business?'
Silently she stared at him as if she thought him slow-witted.
'Mind telling me why you feel the need for such an occupation?' he asked. Most of her face might be in shadow, but he found himself dying to see what she looked like.
She rolled her beautiful green eyes. 'Now, sir, if I was hiding, it should be logical that I'd be doing it so I won't have to talk. Turn around before I have to get rough with ye.'
Travis slowly followed orders deciding that this dance might not be as boring as he'd thought. Sage was obviously having a great time talking to friends, and he had someone of interest to watch.
When he glanced back, she'd vanished as quickly as she'd appeared. He was surprised how disappointed he felt. He watched the crowd, seeing a few faces he recognized, but none with green eyes.
The Widow Dickerson came over after half an hour of dancing with every old man she could talk into taking her around the floor. She was actively looking for husband number three. Since she had a drink in her hand and he was half her age, Travis thought he would be safe talking to her without having to dance.
'Evening, Mrs. Dickerson.'
'Evening, Travis. It's good to see you home.' She had a way of moving her head back and forth like a clock's pendulum when she talked. A habit that must drive her pupils crazy. 'I saw your brothers at the trading post a few months ago, and they said you were overdue for a visit.'
'Yes,' he nodded, not surprised she asked about him, for Mrs. Dickerson tried her best to keep up with everyone.
She smiled and waited.
That was it, he thought, the entire scope of his conversation skills.
'Nice dance,' she said, as if coaching him.
'Yes,' he answered, trying to think of another word to say. 'Lots of new folks.'
She nodded. 'True, but several are with the wagons heading north in the morning. They only stayed this long because of the dance. Won't be much fun where they are headed.'
'Oh.' He frowned trying to think of more than one-word answers.
Mrs. Dickerson didn't seem to notice. 'Last I heard, Elmo is looking for someone to take them farther upriver, but everyone knows it's not safe much past Fort Graham.'
Travis nodded. He tried to listen, but he'd caught a glimpse of color, no more than a scarf, slip through the side door. The woman he'd stepped on was leaving. He felt a pull to follow her. One touch, one look. He hadn't even seen her whole face, yet he almost ran for the door.
'If you had time, you could take them.' Mrs. Dickerson nodded as if she'd solved the homesteaders' problem. 'Sage tells me you've been all over Texas.'
Travis forced himself to pay attention to the old teacher. He didn't want to spend the first break he'd had in two years taking farmers north as she suggested. They always seemed to buy land just beyond where the forts could protect them. The warring tribes in the top half of the state weren't like those in the south. He'd seen enough burned homesteads already. Texas had plenty of outlaws and rustlers in the south to keep him busy. He didn't need to go north.
He glanced once more at the door, wondering what the little lady he'd stepped on would do if he followed her.
Mrs. Dickerson spotted Homer Carter and patted Travis's arm. Once more Travis forced himself to stop daydreaming.
He stared in the direction the teacher was looking and noticed Homer. The man had cleaned up since the last time Travis saw him, but his face still looked like leather.
The schoolteacher handed Travis her mug and waved goodbye as she hurried to trap her next dance partner.
He sat the mug down and glanced in Sage's direction. She looked like she was saying yes to a dance with a lean cowhand. He appeared more boy than man, but Travis didn't miss that he still wore his gun belt even though Elmo had asked everyone to check guns at the door. Most men removed belt and all, but this kid wanted everyone at the dance to know he wore a weapon.
Travis shook his head. He didn't like the fellow already. In fact, if he were guessing, he'd say Sage's new dance partner would never be man enough to marry his sister no matter how many weapons he showed off. Travis debated pulling him aside and filling him in on that fact when he finished dancing. After all, if his faults were so obvious from half a barn away, Travis would be doing him a favor by letting him know he didn't have a chance.
It's just a dance, Travis reminded himself. He couldn't find fault with all his sister's dance partners, even if it did appear easy to do so.
As the music started, he took a deep breath and moved to the side door. Maybe he'd better get some air. Being a big brother was hard work. He told himself his action had nothing to do with green eyes.
Once outside, he looked around for the woman who'd stood behind him. He'd seen her leave, but not return. So, unless she'd turned in, she must be somewhere outside hiding as she'd done all night.
There were enough campfires around that he should at least be able to spot her shadow if she were moving about. He told himself he wasn't really interested in talking to her, but he might ask about her health. After all, he could have hurt her when he'd stepped on her. Travis vaguely remembered the feel of her foot beneath his boot heel when he'd moved backward. And something soft had brushed his arm as he'd twisted around. He closed his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking about what part of her body had felt so soft.
Travis circled the yard. A few mothers were putting their children to bed in bedrolls beneath the wagons. Their
