She was also drawing the attention of the men wherever they went. Like yesterday when they’d gone inside the fort, every single man on God’s green earth had stopped what they were doing to gawk at her, almost as if they hadn’t ever seen a woman before.
Even now as she hurried alongside him, heads turned and appreciative gazes followed her. “Will you be able to help the cow if she has any birthing problems?”
“I’ll do just fine. No need to worry.” He had half a mind to tell her to put her bonnet back up so her pretty face wasn’t as visible. But doing that would clue her in on the fact he was thinking about how she looked, and he didn’t want to let on how hard it was for him to ignore his attraction to her.
As she turned her soft brown eyes upon him, his insides warmed like johnnycakes in a skillet. With all the sunshine, he’d expected a redhead like her to burn and fill up with freckles. But her face had turned a smooth honey tone.
“I’m sure you were a good farmer, Flynn. I’m just sorry again you couldn’t keep your family’s farm and that Rusty got away with stealing it from you.”
Over the course of their conversations, she’d plied him with countless questions, drawing him to talk about more than he had with anyone else. Of course, Ivy was a fount of endless information too, probably telling Linnea every last detail of everything he’d ever done in his entire life.
Ahead, Dylan and Ivy were already kneeling next to the heifer, stroking it. Even if Ivy was free with her tongue, he couldn’t deny Linnea’s presence had been a godsend. Just seeing the neatly formed braids falling across the girl’s shoulders was a case in point. Somehow Linnea had convinced Ivy to wash and brush her hair, all without a scolding—something he hadn’t been able to do in months.
“Maybe you’ll be able to get your own farm once you reach Colorado.” She reached up and brushed at the dried grass on his shirt, likely sticking there when he’d crawled under the wagon to make adjustments to the hound braces.
“Maybe.” The touch of her fingers against his chest, though innocent, was something a wife would do to her husband, and it only sent heat spiraling low inside.
She dropped her hand from him. Her expression filled with an innocence that told him she had no idea of the effect she had on him or anyone else. “I’d certainly like to travel up to South Park and discover what kind of plant life exists there. From what I’ve heard, it’s quite arid, so I would guess growing the usual corn, wheat, oats, rye, and barley would pose some difficulties. Although, I wouldn’t know for sure unless I tested the chemical composition of the soil.”
He knew a little bit about soil and crop rotation from his years of overseeing the major cash crops their farm had produced. And he’d studied up a bit on farming in Colorado, although it hadn’t yet been done up in the mountain valleys. “Don’t forget, you’ve got to take into account the higher elevation and its effects on the growing season.”
She halted so abruptly that she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t reacted rapidly and taken hold of her arm. She pressed a hand to her forehead and bit at her bottom lip, drawing his attention there. Were those lips as soft and full as they looked?
“You’re absolutely right, Flynn.”
Her declaration startled him, and for a second he scrambled to remember what they were talking about.
“Of course we’ll need to take the elevation into consideration before we decide which crops to plant. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that myself.”
He gave himself a mental shake. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost believe she was already aiming to head on up into South Park instead of Denver.
As he reached the heifer, he assessed her in one glance. From the way she was positioned and breathing, the birthing, her first, would be soon. Thankfully, it wouldn’t delay their leaving in the morning.
Dylan placed a flat palm against the heifer’s abdomen. “Contractions are real strong now.”
“Good.” Flynn pressed his hand to the warm velvety underside. The Shorthorn herd had a couple dozen cattle that were mostly red with white marks. And this heifer was one of them, her white markings mainly on the forehead, legs, and belly. At two years old, she was sturdy and seemed to have maintained a good body weight over the past weeks of traveling.
He reckoned she’d make a fine mama cow—if he gave her the chance, which he couldn’t.
It didn’t take long for the front feet to emerge the way they should. Linnea exclaimed every time the feet went back in, even when he reassured her that was normal. Finally, the head appeared, and within an hour, the calf lay in the grass, a perfect Shorthorn specimen. Flynn had to give the heifer a hand in delivering the afterbirth, but she was soon up and licking the calf clean.
He kept himself from feeling anything during the entire process, which was difficult with Linnea looking on the birthing of a calf for the first time with such awe and amazement. But even when tears streaked her cheeks as she watched the newborn resting in the grass, he steeled himself.
These animals weren’t pets. They were intended for human consumption. That’s all. In the end, they’d be slaughtered and turned into beef. At this point, he had to consider profit above everything else, including the life of the calf.
He stood and removed his revolver from the holster at his belt and popped open the cylinder. He checked the chambers, noting two of the six were empty of bullets. He wouldn’t need more than one. Hopefully.
As he pressed the cylinder back into place, the only sound was the wind rustling the long grass. His gaze dropped to find three pairs of eyes staring up at him. Dylan sat back on his haunches, his expression growing somber. Ivy’s eyes rounded, but she didn’t say anything, likely guessing with Dylan what Flynn intended to do and accepting it as the way of things.
Linnea, on the other hand, sniffled and brushed at the dampness on her cheeks, her gaze registering only confusion at the sight of his revolver.
“Dylan, you go on now and take Linnea back to camp.”
Thankfully, for once Dylan didn’t argue with him or make light of the situation. Instead he stood and reached out a hand to Linnea.
She took his offer of help and rose. “I’d like to stay with the calf for a while longer, if that’s okay with you. The sweet creature is so beautiful, I can’t tear myself away just yet.”
Ivy stood now too, her bare feet black with the dust and dirt of the trail.
“I sure would like to see the calf nurse for the first time,” Linnea said. “Won’t he do it soon?”
Flynn didn’t answer. Didn’t know how.
Ivy just swallowed and ducked her head. Dylan toed a clump of grass but met Linnea’s gaze. “Best for the calf and mama not to get attached.” He gave a nod toward the revolver.
Linnea glanced at the gun again, went still, then her gaze shot up to Flynn’s, her face going as pale as freshly churned butter. “You’re not intending to kill the calf, are you?”
Again, he remained silent, hoping she could read his answer without having to spell it out and make things harder.
“No.” Her eyes welled with tears.
Ivy sidled next to Linnea.
Linnea blinked rapidly. “Why? I don’t understand. The calf is perfectly healthy from what I see.”