One Pink Rose; One White Rose; One Red Rose Read Free Page A

Crest,” he added with a scowl. “Or was, until you shot at me. You’re going to have to get up there on your own now, lady, and if you kick me one more time, I swear I’ll—”
    She interrupted him before he could tell her he’d toss her in the water trough.
    â€œYou’re Mr. Clayborne? You can’t be,” she stammered out, a look of horror on her face. “You aren’t . . . an old man.”
    â€œI’m not young either,” he snapped. “I am Travis Clayborne,” he added, but because his knee was still throbbing from being kicked by the bit of fluff, he didn’t bother to tip his hat to her. “Give me your gun.”
    She didn’t argue. She simply placed the weapon in the palm of his hand and frowned up at him. She didn’t apologize either. He noticed that slight right away.
    â€œI swear I’m going to be limping for a week. What have you got in your shoes? Iron?”
    Her smile was dazzling, and heaven help him for noticing, she had a cute little dimple in her right cheek. If he hadn’t already decided he didn’t like her, he would have thought she was a mite better than simply pretty. She was downright lovely. He had to remind himself the crazy woman had just tried to kill him.
    â€œWhat a silly thing to suggest,” she said. “Of course I don’t have iron in my shoes. I’m sorry I kicked you, but you did sneak up on me.”
    â€œI did no such thing.”
    â€œIf you say so,” she said, trying to placate him. “You were teasing me about changing your mind, weren’t you? You wouldn’t really abandon a helpless lady in her hour of need, would you?”
    The little woman had a sense of humor. Travis jumped to that conclusion as soon as she told him she was helpless. She’d said it with a straight face too, and, honest to Pete, it didn’t matter that his shin was still stinging from her wallop of a kick; he still felt like laughing. He couldn’t wait to be rid of her, of course, but he was in a much better frame of mind.
    Mr. Clayborne was taking entirely too long to answer her question. The thought of once again being stranded in the middle of nowhere sent chills down her spine. She let out a little sigh and decided there was only one thing to do.
    God help her, she was going to have to flirt with the scoundrel. With a little sigh she pulled out the useless little pink-and-white painted fan she’d purchased in St. Louis for entirely too much money, flipped it open with the dainty turn of her wrist she’d practiced for hours on the train, and held it in front of her face. She was deliberately concealing her cheeks so he wouldn’t see her blush of embarrassment when she did something she considered utterly ridiculous.
    She wasn’t just going to try to flirt; she was also going to be coy. She drew a quick breath to keep herself from groaning, then batted her eyelashes up at him in imitation of her sister’s tactics. Barbara had always looked very coy; Emily was pretty certain she looked like an idiot. God only knew, she felt like one.
    She realized her practical, down-to-earth nature was trying to reassert itself and immediately tried to squelch it. She had vowed to change everything about herself, and she wasn’t about to give up now, no matter how foolish she felt.
    Travis watched her flutter her eyelashes at him for a long silent minute. No doubt about it, she was crazy all right, and he suddenly felt a little sorry for her. She was definitely out of her element, dressed as she was for a Sunday social in the center of the dirt and grime known as Pritchard, trying her best to be painfully correct in her manners.
    He knew she was trying to manipulate him now and decided to have a bit of sport with her.
    â€œMaybe you ought to see Doc Morganstern before you go anywhere, ma’am. He might have something to help stop your eyes from twitching. I don’t