Free Titans by Leila Meacham Page A

give them to. Who but a scientist would be interested in hearing a paleontologist speak on the process of extracting oil from fossils?
    Todd had spent a tidy sum for the tickets, Samantha read on the stubs. A shame not to make use of them. When she returned, she’d contact the Simmons Preparatory School. Perhaps a student or teacher in the science department might like to attend. “I’ll just leave them here,” she said, depositing the pair in a drawer of the hat stand.

Chapter Eleven
    P ony was saddled and waiting for her, the toss of his head and twitch of his tail irritably informing Samantha that he was eager to escape the restrictions of his stall. For a week he had been denied his daily work with cattle. “He’s rarin’ to go, Miss Sam,” Jimmy, the wizened stableman, said. “If yore goin’ into town, keep a tight hold on the reins. Lordy, the traffic we got these days. A sorry sight. I ’member the days when Fort Worth was so quiet, it wadn’t nothin’ for a panther to crawl into town for a nap.”
    Samantha smiled. How many times had she heard Jimmy, who had been with the Gordons since she was a child and described by her father as “a little slow in the head but mighty damn good with horses,” refer to the incident in his youth that had resulted in Panther City becoming the nickname of Fort Worth. Because of the devastation to the cattle industry by the hard winter of 1873 and the termination of the Texas and Pacific Railway thirty miles short of Fort Worth, the town had become so sleepy that an article in the Dallas Herald reported a lawyer seeing a panther asleep on its courthouse steps. Fort Worth’s prosperous rival meant it as a dig, but the city thumbed its nose at the insult and enthusiastically adopted the panther as a symbol of its survival and indomitability.
    “I’ll keep a firm grip, Jimmy,” Samantha said, climbing up. Lord, it felt good to be in the saddle again wearing comfortable clothes. The morning was bright with sunshine and fresh from the last of winter’s chilly rains that had fallen during the night. Spring was on the way. She wished she could hit the open road to the ranch right then and avoid the trip to the newly built post office situated on the other side of town. Except for Friday, when the carrier made morning rounds in her mother’s neighborhood, mail was not delivered until late afternoon. The modern structure and boast of the city had replaced a convenient general store for collecting letters and packages at any time of the day, one of the many signs of progress offering mixed benefits to the no-longer sleepy town of Fort Worth. Samantha shared the neighbors’ irritation at having to make the trek this morning when she was in a hurry. She patted the horse’s muscular neck. “One more stop, Pony, then we’ll head for home.”
    On the ride into town, as she noted the paved streets and new buildings that had gone up, Samantha’s thoughts returned to the surprising revelation of her father and Seth Singleton’s hopes for her and Sloan to marry. She’d thought of Seth Singleton like an uncle, as her father was fond of Sloan like a nephew. From her first steps, siblingless, she’d considered Sloan, almost four years older, as a big brother, a role he’d played ever since, but no place beyond that. It was not so much a surprise that she’d missed her father’s romantic hopes for them as that her father had overlooked Sloan’s lack of romantic interest in her. The union of Las Tres Lomas de la Trinidad and the Triple S would never be. The daughter of Neal Gordon ignited no amorous spark in Sloan Singleton.
    Which was just as well, Samantha thought. She and Sloan were definitely not a good match. As time had gone by, their differences in opinions, attitudes, and beliefs had arisen. Prejudices had developed. Had circumstances granted Sloan an ordinary adolescence, allowed him time and range to reach adulthood, perhaps the towhead she’d grown up secretly loving