Behind His Blue Eyes Read Free Page B

he moves, give him a yank and tell him, ‘Whoa.’ Don’t yell. Talk calmly and firmly and look him in the eye. Make him pay attention to you, not what’s going on around him. He’s just afraid.”
    â€œMe, too,” the old man muttered, but did as instructed.
    Stepping around the African woman, Winnie, who looked to be near in age to Curtis—spouses, perhaps?—Ethan approached the circus ringleader.
    She was surprisingly small to be generating such a fuss, and was even able to convince two hulking railroad workers to do her biding. Ethan realized why when he stopped beside her. Despite that furrow between her dark brown brows, she was uncommonly pretty . . . in a fine-boned, delicate, citified sort of way. Hardly the type of woman he normally found attractive.
    â€œWould you like some help, ma’am?” he asked.
    She gave him a distracted look, the dog squirming in her arms. “What?”
    Remarkable eyes, even with the squint. A greenish hazel that he suspected would look greener if she wore something other than that drab gray dress that did little to set off her gold-streaked hair. Although why he would notice such things was beyond him. He was more partial to breasts, himself. And she had a nice pair of those, too, he was pleased to note.
    She noted him noting and narrowed her eyes even more.
    Removing his Stetson, he gave a slight bow. “May I help you?”
    â€œWith what?”
    He tipped his head toward the old man scurrying along the tracks. “Him?”
    â€œOh, Lord!” Almost crushing his hat, she shoved the yapper against his chest and raced off, calling, “Father,” in a high, panicky voice.
    Ethan looked at the dog in his arms, which had thankfully paused for breath, realized by the cloudy eyes it was blind, and thrust it toward the Negro woman.
    She backed off, pink palms upraised. “Not me, suh. I’d as soon throw it under the train, and that would upset Miss Audra, sure enough.”
    â€œDo you want the buggy unloaded, or not?”
    She thought about it, then reluctantly took the dog.
    By the time “Miss Audra” had returned, leading the mumbling old man by the hand, the buggy was on solid ground, Ethan had almost finished harnessing the bay into the traces, and Curtis was tying valises and boxes to the back of the buggy under the barked supervision of both the badger-dog and the Negro woman.
    A forceful trio, the badger, Winnie, and Miss Audra.
    Waving Ethan aside when he stepped forward to help, Miss Audra opened the door of the buggy and dropped down the mounting step. “There you are, Father,” she said in a voice much gentler than the one she’d used on the freight handlers or himself.
    The old man frowned at Ethan. “Come for the transcripts, have you, Mitchell? They’re not yet ready. The girl has been dreadfully slow this time. You must talk to her, Mary,” he added to the woman waiting for him to board.
    Mary?
Ethan thought her name was Audra.
    â€œI will, Father. In you go.”
    Once she got him settled with a lap robe over his legs, she took the squirming dog from Winnie and set it in the old man’s arms like she was presenting a precious newborn. “And here’s Cleo.”
    The old man grinned. The dog shut up. And the show was over.
    If Ethan had expected a “thank you,” he didn’t get it. But feeling ornery, he couldn’t let the oversight pass unnoticed. “You’re certainly welcome, Miss Audra. Or is it Mary?”
    â€œMiss Pearsall. Mary was my mother’s name.” She turned to squint up at him. “How do you know me, sir? Have we met?”
    â€œAlas, no. And I admire your ability to disregard those pesky social courtesies and accept my help anyway. If you have no further use of me . . . ?”
    She blinked, obviously befuddled. Confusion must run in the family.
    â€œThen I bid you good day.” Hiding