Page 19 of The Soldier and the Cowboy

“Come on, we’ll talk, compare notes about Cal’s ranch, keep it professional.”

“Hard pass, Ranger Langford. Hard, hard pass,” she said before turning her attention back to Cal. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll wait outside.”

“It’s midday. You’re going to have to learn a thing or two about Texas heat if you’re going to survive,” Sully volunteered.

“This is a fine time to practice. Excuse me.” She pushed back from the table again and walked out of the diner.

“Butter don’t melt in her mouth,” Sully said.

“Know your audience, Sully,” Cal advised.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you insulted her in every possible way today,” Calsaid.

“I was just bein’ friendly, warnin’ her about the Texas sun,” Sully huffed.

“She grew up in Africa. I think she knows a thing or two about shade,” Cal said, shaking his head. He threw some bills on the table. “Better bring the A game next time.”

“That was my A game,” Sully muttered.

“That’s what makes it so sad,” Cal said. He flicked Sully’s hat, gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat, and went to find Bailey.

Cal and Bailey drove for a while in silence before anyone spoke.

“I have to say I’m fairly disillusioned in the Texas Rangers,” she said at last.

“Sully’s all right,” Cal said. “You flummoxed him, is all.”

“Me? What did I do?”

He glanced at her. She wasn’t like anyone Sully had ever encountered. She wasn’t like anyonehehad ever encountered. “He’s used to a certain response from women. He’s what you’d call our town’s most desirable male.”

“Him? I thought it would be…” she trailed off and glanced out her window.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Were you going to say you thought it would be me?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“Why, Major Dunbar, I never. I think I may be blushing. Or maybe you are.”

“I don’t blush,” she said.

“Sure you do, pink cheeks.” He poked her leg; she batted his hand away.

“Once a very long time ago that was me. I was a young prince, son of a wealthy rancher, football star, hot-headed, full of myself, certain. And then I went away to college and five years of pro football and sort of lost track of myself. Are you familiar with the story of Esau?”

“From the bible?” she asked. He nodded. “Vaguely, sir.”

“He was supposed to be the child of promise, but Jacob stole his blessing. And then he went off and married a woman from outside his religion, outside his culture. So far outside she became a curse on his family. I find the older I get, the more I identify with Esau. Every year, little by little, more and more of that cocksure boy I used to be withers and dies. That dashing young football player is gone. In his place is a broken down, scarred old cowboy.”

“I guess we both know a thing or two about broken dreams,” she said.

“I guess we do,” he agreed.

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