“It won’t survive the drive.” Dylan’s tone gentled.
“Our pace has been leisurely enough. In fact, we’ll slow down even more for a while. I’m sure Grandfather won’t mind in the least.”
Dylan exchanged a glance with Flynn, one that said he had reached the limits of his ability to reason with Linnea. It was Flynn’s turn. Flynn cleared his throat. “Listen, ain’t none of us want this. But we can’t jeopardize the whole herd on account of the calf.”
“No,” Linnea said again louder, pulling away from Ivy. “You cannot murder the calf.”
Flynn pressed his lips together, wishing he knew what to say to calm her. It had obviously been a mistake bringing her out to watch the birthing and see the calf.
She crossed toward him, each step firm and her eyes no longer holding tears but fire. “Surely we can find another option.” She halted a foot away from him.
“Nope. Don’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice. And you can make the decision to save this calf instead of being so callous and uncaring.”
He braced his feet apart.
As though sensing his resolve—or perhaps seeing it in his expression—she released a cry of frustration, rushed at him, and slapped her palms against his chest. “I won’t let you.”
He shoved his revolver into his belt and captured both her arms. Even as she twisted against his hold, a sob escaped, first one, then another, until she was openly crying. “You can’t kill it. Please, Flynn. Please.”
Ivy and Dylan watched the unfolding scene with widening gazes.
He did the only thing he could think to do. He wrapped Linnea in his arms and tugged her against his body. As he pressed her tightly, he wasn’t sure what he expected—maybe for more struggling. He wasn’t prepared when she slipped her arms around his waist, sagged against him, and buried her face into his chest.
He motioned with a nod for Ivy and Dylan to head on off. He should have sent them away when Linnea first started having the breakdown. She deserved privacy. And he aimed to give it to her while she pulled herself together.
The two scurried off, casting anxious glances at him over their shoulders.
He understood their panic. He wasn’t used to hysterical women either. But he guessed the killing of animals came more naturally to him and Ivy and Dylan since they’d grown up on a farm, and the slaughtering of chickens, pigs, and cows was just a way of life, something that had to be done every now and again.
For a moment, he held Linnea stiffly, still not exactly sure what to do. Her body shook with her weeping, and her tears dampened his shirt. Her arms were wrapped about him as tightly as if she were drowning in the Neosho River. And as he shifted, she clung to him even harder.
He blew out a tense breath and tried to loosen the tautness in his muscles. She just needed a little comforting was all. He’d gotten to know her well enough to understand that this outburst wasn’t normal. She was always cheerful and positive, rarely complained about anything. She’d been shaken up pretty badly to react so emotionally.
Was holding her like this enough? Or did he need to do more?
He lifted one of his hands from where he’d crossed them over her back. Hesitantly, he held it near her head. Her usual coif was elegant, but after going without her bonnet, the strands were loose and flyaway. Before he talked himself out of it, he brushed her hair.
It was as silky as he’d imagined. And warmth began to stir his blood.
His fingers stalled. Thunderation. This wasn’t about him. He shouldn’t be thinking about the pleasure he felt in touching her hair. This was about her and trying to soothe her.
Pressing his lips together to keep from cursing at himself for his selfishness, he caressed her hair again, this time gently sweeping back the loose strands and smoothing them down.
After several more strokes, her sobs began to soften. Were his efforts working? Maybe he could do even more? He let his thumb graze her ear. At the contact, she quieted. He skimmed the contours again, letting his fingers glide against her cheek. He wiped at the tears before combing upward into her hair.
Her body stilled against his.
Was he overstepping himself? Should he pull away now that she’d stopped crying?
Even as he hesitated, she expelled a deep, shuddering breath and settled more securely against him, as though she had no intention of going anywhere.
If his simple touch was helping to calm her, then a few more moments wouldn’t hurt. He stroked her hair again. Then curiosity drove his fingers to the soft curls at the back of her neck, the shorter strands that didn’t pull up into the coif.
As he gently fingered the hair, his other hand rose from the base of her back to between her shoulder blades. He made a path downward and then back up.
She released another breath, and her arms around him loosened. He expected her to pull away and was unprepared when she pressed her face more fully against his chest.
As her fingers unfurled and splayed against his lower back, something unfurled inside him. Something hot and dangerous.
He clenched his jaw and forced back the gut reaction to hold her just because he wanted to. He had to keep this hug about her comfort and not his pleasure.
“I’m sorry about my outburst, Flynn,” she murmured. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s alright. I should have made you stay away, knowing what I did about the outcome.”
She shifted, giving him a view of her profile, flushed and pink from her crying but never more beautiful than at this moment. “What if I can find a way to save the calf? Someone to take him in? Will you let me attempt that before you—put him down?”
When she lifted her head and peered up at him with her eyes so full of tenderness, her long lashes wet, her cheeks still damp, he knew right then and there he’d carry that calf on his shoulders the rest of the way to Colorado for her if she but asked him.
“Please, Flynn?” Her hand at his back moved higher, making him all too conscious of her nearness and the fact that she was pressed up against him so he could feel every sweet inch of her.
“Alright.”
“Alright? Alright, as in you’ll let me see if I can find a home for him?”
“Yep.”
Her pretty lips curled up into a smile. “Oh, thank you, Flynn.”
He allowed himself to relax but couldn’t make himself let go of her quite yet.
“And will you forgive me for all the terrible things I said about you?” Her lashes dropped, making his stomach do a strange drop too. “You’re not callous or uncaring.”
“Maybe I am.”
Her gaze opened wide, revealing the innocence and gentleness he’d come to expect there. “No, Flynn. I spoke in anger. I have no excuse for ever saying such things. Please believe me when I tell you, you’re one of the kindest people I know.”
He started to shake his head, denial on the tip of his tongue. Before he could say anything, she stood up on her toes and touched her lips to his.
The shock of the contact froze him in place, rendering him motionless. What was she doing? Her lips clung to his for a heavenly second before she pulled back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her arms slid away. “I was trying to say thank you again.”
He didn’t release her and instead drew her against him sharply, angling in and doing what he’d secretly dreamed about for the past weeks since meeting her. He meshed his lips to hers. The very touch reached down inside and unlocked everything he’d been working at holding back, and the emotion swelled behind the kiss, giving it a surge of passion that only stirred up his longing for more.