A Country Affair(8)

“How old are you, Rorie?” he asked.

The question was so unexpected that she was too surprised to answer immediately. Then she said, “Twenty-four.”

“And you live in San Francisco. Is your family there, too?”

“No. My parents moved to Arizona and my brother’s going to school back east.”

“And you’re not engaged or anything?”

As Rorie shook her head, Clay shot his brother an exasperated look. “Are you interviewing Rorie for the Independent?”

“No. I was just curious.”

“She’s too old for you, little brother.”

“I don’t know about that,” Skip returned fervently. “I’ve always liked my women more mature. Besides, Rorie’s kind of cute.”

“Kind of?”

Skip shrugged. “You know what I mean. She doesn’t act like a city girl...much.”

Rorie’s eyes flew from one brother to the next. They were talking as if she wasn’t even in the room, and that annoyed her—especially since she was the main topic of conversation.

Unaware of her reaction, Skip helped himself to another roll. “Actually, I thought she might be closer to twenty. With some women it’s hard to tell.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rorie muttered to no one in particular.

“My apologies, Rorie,” Clay said contritely. “We were being rude.”

She took time buttering her biscuit. “Apology accepted.”

“How old do you think I am?” Skip asked her, his eyes wide and hopeful.

It was Rorie’s nature to be kind, and besides, Skip had saved her from an unknown fate. “Twenty,” she answered with barely a pause.

The younger Franklin straightened and sent his brother a smirk. “I was seventeen last week.”

“That surprises me,” Rorie continued, setting aside her butter knife and swallowing a smile. “I could’ve sworn you were much older.”

Looking even more pleased with himself, Skip cleared his throat. “Lots of girls think that.”

“Don’t I remember you telling me you’re helping Luke Rivers tonight?” Clay reminded his brother.

Skip’s face fell. “I guess I did.”

“If Rorie doesn’t mind, I’ll introduce her to King.”

Clay’s offer appeared to surprise Skip, and Rorie studied the boy, a little worried now about causing problems between the two brothers. Nor did she want to disappoint Skip, who had offered first.

“But I thought...” Skip began, then swallowed. “You want to take Rorie?”

Clay’s eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, his voice was cool. “That’s what I just said. Is there a problem?”

“No...of course not.” Skip stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth and shook his head vigorously. After a moment of chewing, he said, “Clay will show you around the stable.” His words were measured and even, but his gaze held his brother’s.

“I heard,” Rorie said gently. She could only speculate on what was going on between them, but obviously something was amiss. There’d been more than a hint of surprise in Skip’s eyes at Clay’s offer. She noticed that the younger Franklin seemed angry. Because his vanity was bruised? Rorie supposed so. “I could wait until tomorrow if you want, Skip,” she suggested.

“No, that’s all right,” he answered, lowering his eyes. “Clay can do it, since that’s what he seems to want.”

When they finished the meal, Rorie cleared the table, but Mary refused to let her help with cleaning up the kitchen.

“You’d just be in the way,” she grumbled, though her eyes weren’t unfriendly. “Besides, I heard the boys were showing you the barn.”

“I’ll do the dishes tomorrow night then.”

Mary murmured a response, then asked brusquely, “How was the apple pie?”

“Absolutely delicious.”

A satisfied smile touched the edges of the woman’s mouth. “Good. I did things a little differently this time, and I was just wondering.”

Clay led Rorie out the back door and across the yard toward the barn. The minute Rorie walked through the enormous double doors she felt she’d entered another world. The wonderful smells of leather and liniments and saddle soap mingled with the fragrance of fresh hay and the pungent odor of the horses themselves. Rorie found it surprisingly pleasant. Flashes of bright color from halters and blankets captured her attention, as did the gleam of steel bits against the far wall.

“King’s over here,” Clay said, guiding her with a firm hand beneath her elbow.

When Clay opened the top of the stall door, the most magnificent creature Rorie had ever seen turned to face them. He was a deep chestnut color, so sleek and powerful it took her breath away. This splendid horse seemed to know he was royalty. He regarded Rorie with a keen eye, as though he expected her to show him the proper respect and curtsy. For a wild moment, Rorie was tempted to do exactly that.

“I brought a young lady for you to impress,” Clay told the stallion.

King took a couple of steps back and pawed the ground.

“He really is something,” Rorie whispered, once she’d found her voice. “Did you raise him from a colt?”