Free To Tame A Texan by Georgina Gentry Page B

should get together and have one last drive for the fun of it.”
    â€œHmm.” Trace went to the window and looked out for a long moment. “I don’t know. Last time I had to sleep on the ground, I hurt so bad next morning, I could hardly sit a saddle.”
    Cimarron laughed. “Middle age catching up to you. It’s not an adventure for anyone but the young. Ace has missed one of the great experiences of the old West.”
    â€œA cattle drive might make a man of him.” Trace sipped his drink and smiled, staring out the window as if remembering the old days. “Old Sanchez’s younger brother is a good trail boss. Pedro would probably enjoy leading a cattle drive in one final trip up the Chisholm Trail to Dodge City.”
    â€œYou’re not serious. Why, it must be twelve hundred miles.” She looked at him.
    Trace shrugged. “I don’t know. Abilene and Wichita don’t want the drives coming through any more. The Kansas legislature has passed laws discouraging it. If we arranged a drive, we’d probably have to swing out as we reached the Kansas border and take the Western Trail to Dodge City.”
    â€œThere’s lots of young cowboys who’ve never gotten to go on a drive,” Cimarron said, “but it doesn’t sound like Ace’s cup of tea.”
    â€œI reckon not,” his father grumbled. “Saloons and card games and fast women: that’s all that interests Ace. Look at the mess he got poor little Lynnie into. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if the McBrides never spoke to us again.”
    â€œHmm.” Cimarron thought about it a long moment. “I wouldn’t put all the blame on Ace. You know, she’s feisty, stubborn, and as headstrong as he is.”
    He whirled on her. “You’re not excusing his behavior!”
    â€œDouble damnation, Trace, I’m just saying that little red-haired rascal may not be as innocent as she looks.”
    Her husband looked shocked. “Why, that sweet little thing couldn’t possibly . . .”
    â€œMaybe not. But I’m a woman and I know Lynnie better than you. Actually, I think they’re two of a kind.”
    Trace smoked his cigarillo and shook his head. “Of course, I can’t expect you to understand that Ace should have protected the lady and—”
    â€œDon’t use that glib, superior tone with me, hombre.” Cimarron tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “Frankly, I think votes for women will come; it’s just a matter of time.”
    His dark eyes blinked. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
    â€œThat just goes to show you that you don’t always know everything there is to know about women; nor does your son, but he thinks he does.” She slipped her arms around her husband’s neck and gave him a quick kiss before returning to her sewing. The little brown dog promptly hopped up into her lap and settled down.
    Trace returned to staring into the fire, as if reliving a time past. “You know, darlin’, I’ll bet a lot of old-timers would like to send their sons or grandsons along for one last, big cattle drive.”
    â€œAre we back on that subject?”
    â€œIt’d be good for Ace, too,” her husband argued.
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    Of course, Ace didn’t think so. When he sat down for breakfast the next morning, he was so stiff from the big fight and cleaning stables that he had to suppress a groan. He took a sip of coffee and shuddered. “Juanita not back yet?”
    His mother put her finger to her lips for silence and shook her head.
    Every bone in his body hurt, and now the coffee was lousy. He thought of all the fun he was missing at the local cantina and sighed.
    It was then that Dad began to tell him his plans for one last, big cattle drive.
    Ace looked at his father. “Let me get this straight, Dad: you want me to nursemaid a bunch of stupid cows all the way to