Free Cowboy Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #3, Kitty and Lukes story) by Amelia Rose

she must have realized we'd never met. 
                  Now she'll turn out to be a fairy I've met by chance , I thought, and waited for her to vanish in a puff of smoke.  When she didn't, I took a step closer and said, "I'm Kathryn Collins, Sarah Kennedy's sister."
                  She nodded.  "Cynthia Getties." 
                  That made sense, given the direction she'd been coming from.  Still, it was a surprise to meet one of the Getties family, given what I knew about them already, and, as far as I knew, we were both on Kennedy land.
                  She proffered the shawl she held.  "Your sister left this at my house one afternoon and I was bringing it back.  Could you give it to her?"
                  "I was just heading back to the ranch.  Would you care to accompany me?  You could join us for lemonade.  I'm sure Sarah would like to see you. "
                  I was sure of no such thing, given how busy she was and how much of what was happening to make everyone so busy was because of a man I assumed was Cynthia Getties' husband.  Nor did I really want to make conversation with a stranger for the walk back.
                  To my relief, Cynthia Getties declined.  "Please give her my apologies.  I have my supper to get on." 
                  "It was a pleasure meeting you," I said, and tucked the blue shawl under my arm.
                  "The pleasure is mine," she said.
                  I wasn't completely certain she was sincere.
     
                  Sarah was busy, preparing supper, finishing washing, worrying about William and drought and Mr. Getties and probably me.  When I gave her the shawl, she just looked puzzled.
                  "I never left a wrap at her house," she said, and then, quietly, "Did she mention me?"
                  That wasn't an answer I could satisfactorily give her.
     
                  The evening was glorious.  A chorus of frogs started up around the ranch and a choir of birds saw fit to mark the end of the day with preparations of their own, filling the air with sound.  The honey scent of the new day had given way to heat midday and to the lingering smell of Sarah's rose garden at evening.
                  Robert McLeod called for me just as the sun started a precipitous slide to the west.  He wore a starched white shirt and paisley vest with dark trousers and had shined his boots, though, in truth, they looked to be the same boots he wore during the day.  He carried a sprig of lilac he'd probably cut from under the kitchen window and that scented the evening too.
                  The trunk with my clothes had arrived three days earlier and Mike had brought it along on a trip back from Redding.  I wore a long sateen dress of midnight blue that my mother had made for me in early spring.  Pearl buttons down the front, full sleeves and a bustle; though it wasn't a fashion I cared for, it was popular.  This evening, I'd managed to control my hair, letting the curl the heat caused fall into ringlets while the rest of it I pulled up into a soft bun, leaving my neck bare.  My best black boots were shiny and ankle length and my mother's note in the trunk had read that she was sure she didn't know why I was sending for my best clothes when staying on a cattle ranch, that she'd grown up on one in Alturas, as had all the Longrens, and she didn't think I would have any need for such garments though she was pleased I liked the dress she'd made me enough to request she send it. 
                  "That's irony," Sarah diagnosed when she read the letter. 
                  "You're keeping track of my behavior, are you not?" I'd responded, which made her protest a flock of sisters wouldn't be enough for such a job.
                  At the time, there'd been no one for