Free Samantha and the Cowboy by Lorraine Heath Page A

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of critters.”
    â€œNot afraid. I just don’t like them.” The boy picked up his boot with only his thumb and forefinger as though he feared it might bite him.
    The kid was a contradiction: determined one minute, practically a sissy the next. He had to be younger than he claimed…
    Matt snatched the boot from Sam’s grip and gave it a good thumping. He handed it to the kid before picking up the other one and giving it the same treatment. “Grab us both a cup of coffee from the wagon while I get our horses.”
    He didn’t wait to see if Sam followed, but headed to the remuda, where he selected two good night horses. He began to saddle them up, thinking about his conversation with Sam earlier. There was just something about the kid that made Matt talk, that made him yearn for the friendships he’d had before the war. Friendships the war had stolen from him.
    Just as Matt finished getting the horses ready, Sam approached and extended the tin cup toward him. He gulped the coffee down. “Thanks.”
    â€œHow long do we have to watch them?”
    â€œA shift is two hours. You’ll know our shift is up when the Big Dipper moves southwest of the North Star.”
    The kid looked up at the big expanse of sky. “Is that how cowboys tell time?”
    â€œYep, most of us don’t own watches. The Big Dipper’s progress around the North Star keeps track of time for us.” He decided the more he explained now, the sooner Jake would let him cut Sam loose. He mounted his horse and watched as the boy did the same.
    â€œSo what do we do?” Sam asked as they nudged their horses toward the herd.
    â€œWe bed them down in three sections. We’ll be responsible for watching the northern group. Just walk around the perimeter. Sing a Texas lullaby if they start to get restless.”
    â€œYou mean sing a song about Texas?” Sam asked.
    Matt kept forgetting that the kid’s experience was limited to one milk cow. “A Texas lullaby is when cowboys hum a soothing tune without words.”
    â€œI like songs with words. I used to sing to Old Bess,” Sam said wistfully.
    â€œWho was Old Bess?”
    â€œOur milk cow.”
    A cow was a cow. The kid definitely cared too much, and that could sure lead to heartache.
    As they neared the herd, Matt veered toward the north and Sam followed.
    â€œYou mentioned that you haven’t ever been away from home. You’re likely to get homesick then,” Matt said in a low, even voice. The last thing he wanted to do was start a stampede on Sam’s first watch.
    â€œWe won’t be gone that long,” Sam said.
    Matt shook his head, even though he thought it unlikely that the kid could see the gesture in the faint moonlight. “It’s distance more than time that makes you lonesome for home. The farther you travel, the less likely it seems that you’ll return home. And even when you finally…” his voice trailed off.
    â€œWhat?” Sam asked.
    He couldn’t explain to the kid that when he got home, he didn’t feel as though he’d truly returned. “I don’t know why it is that when you’re around, my tongue starts frolicking. I don’t usually talk this much.”
    â€œWe might end up being friends after all,” Sam said, and Matt would have sworn he heard a wistful note in Sam’s voice.
    â€œIt’ll be better if we don’t.”
    â€œWhy?” Sam asked.
    â€œBecause I’ve been charged with being your teacher, not your friend.”
    â€œNever did like school much,” Sam retorted in a petulant voice.
    Matt didn’t know any boy who enjoyed sitting in the schoolroom. As a matter of fact, many of the men in theoutfit couldn’t read or write. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of them. He’d finished his schooling at fourteen. His father had insisted he finish before he’d