Free The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) by Katherine Logan Page A

ring the corral.
    “I’ll take care of Stormy and the mules,” Adam said.
    She handed over the reins. “Then I’ll go wash up and help your ma.”
    “I reckon she’s got the biscuits cooking, but let her know her boys’ got tapeworms hollerin’ for fodder.”
    That was a new one. She had started a list of his colloquialisms, but didn’t think a thousand miles would give her enough time to figure them all out. He was right though. By the time she washed up and returned to the Barretts, the dining tent was up and the biscuits were in the cook stove.
    “What can I do?”
    “Mix up another batch,” Sarah said. “We’ve got a hungry crowd tonight.”
    Frances slouched over to her ma. “What can I do?”
    “Why don’t you help your pa pull the chairs to the table?”
    The child turned a slow circle, frowning. “I can’t find him.”
    John walked up behind her carrying a long bench. He sat it down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “There’s my helper. Are you going to stand still to Sunday or help your old pa?”
    “You’re not old. Not like Mr. Peters.”
    John’s face crinkled. “Mr. Peters wouldn’t appreciate hearing you say that about him.”
    “He says he’s old, Pa. Why can’t I?”
    John rubbed his nose to cover a smile. “It’s not polite. Now take hold of one end of this bench and help me out.”
    “Where’s Mrs. MacKlenna gonna sit?”
    “She can sit on the bench between you and Elizabeth.”
    “That’s Mr. Montgomery’s place if’n he’s taking supper with us.”
    John patted his daughter’s head. “Believe we have room enough.”
    Sarah carried a pot over to the table. “Call the boys. Food’s ready.”
    John struck the large steel triangle with a mallet, and its clang peeled out over the campsite. Three freshly washed boys and Cullen appeared as if they’d been hanging out in the wings waiting for a curtain call. The lawyer look was gone. The scruffy look was back. Kit didn’t mind the scruffy look at all.
    “Sit here, Mrs. MacKlenna, Mr. Montgomery.” Frances scooted to make room.
    “No wine tonight?” Cullen asked.
    His whisper came so close she felt the warmth of his words on her neck. He smelled of sun and summer heat and freshly washed cotton. Although the thought of drinking made her sick at her stomach, the thought of drinking with him—
    “Bless the food, John. The boys are hungry,” Sarah said.
    Before he said amen, pots and pans flew across the table along with seven different conversations. Kit watched with wide-eyed fascination. Cullen chewed his food slowly, his eyes hazy with thoughts or perhaps the pleasure the food gave him, or like her, he was simply following multiple willy-nilly conversations. He didn’t have enough room for his long legs and kept bumping his thigh against hers.
    When had her leg become an erogenous zone?
    Adam’s eyes strayed toward something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw two young girls saunter pass, heading toward the river. Adam’s lips curled into a puppy-love-grin. “May I be excused, Pa?”
    John pushed back from the table. “You can all be excused, but don’t forget your chores.”
    Kit watched Adam run off with his brothers, completely ignoring the girls. It tickled her, thinking back to her own adolescence. She turned to the older Barretts. “You have a precious family. You must be proud of them.”
    John packed his pipe with tobacco. “We’re mighty proud, aren’t we Ma?”
    “I think Adam’s got a bit of spring on his mind,” Cullen said, putting a match to his cigar.
    John lit his pipe. “I noticed that a few days ago. Believe the girl’s a Baue. Her pa’s got no sit in his ass.”
    Kit lifted her hands in a gesture of confusion.
    “Baue can’t sit still,” Cullen interpreted. “He’s always up doing one thing or another, making a racket when folks are trying to sleep.”
    “If Adam’s interested in courting their girl we should be making a call soon.” John slipped his pipe