The Traveling Kind Read Free Page A

counter and didn’t bother to mention that they would be sharing the facility. “You’ll have the bedroom to the right of the stairs.” He backed out of the bathroom doorway and let her take the lead.
    When Charley entered his assigned room, she found herself avoiding the area where the double bed stood. She walked instead to the closet. “There are extra blankets on the top shelf if you need them. There are some wire hangers in the closet for your clothes. Let me know if you need more.”
    When she turned, she realized he hadn’t been paying much attention to her. His gaze was skimming the contents of the room, skipping the furniture to inspect the pictures on the wall and the assorted knickknacks on the bedside table and dresser. None of them were special or out of the ordinary. Charley was confused by his absorption in them. When the silence ran on, his gaze shifted back to her. His mouth twisted in a self-mocking smile.
    “It’s been years since I’ve slept in an actual bedroom,” he explained. “I’d forgotten some of the little things that make it different.”
    Her glance ran around the homey room, suddenly seeing it through the eyes of someone who had spent most of his time in bunkhouses. The personal touches did stand out. She began considering the loneliness of his existence, then realized sharply that she was treading on dangerous ground. His life-style was one he had chosen. He had the ability to change it— if that was what he wanted to do, which it obviously wasn’t.
    “I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in,” she said briskly, moving toward the door. “Come down whenever you’re finished.”
    Without waiting for a reply she left the room and ran lightly down the steps in search of her brother. She found him, still half dressed, rummaging through her sewing basket, balanced unsteadily on his crutches.
    “Gary, what on earth are you looking for?” she asked with a hint of exasperation. He’d become almost childlike.
    “I’m trying to find the damned scissors,” he grumbled.
    “Scissors?”
    “Yes, scissors,” he snapped irritably. “So I can cut the pant leg off these jeans. I can’t get them over the cast and I’m tired of running around in a bathrobe. I want some clothes on for a change.”
    “If you asked me nicely, I might do it for you,” Charley suggested.
    He glowered at her over his shoulder. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her in silent challenge. His hair was a darker shade of brown than her own light color but he had the same hazel eyes. His build was heavier and carried more muscle than her slender frame, but a stranger would instantly guess they were brother and sister. Their resemblance was strong in other ways, too. Both possessed the same proud, stubborn streak that often produced a contest of wills, as now. This time it was Gary who surrendered.
    He sighed tiredly. “Would you cut my pants for me, please?”
    “Of course.” Her smile was wide and filled with warmth as she reached out to take the jeans from him. “The scissors are in the bureau drawer, not the basket.”
    Gary leaned on his crutches and watched her snipping at the leg of his jeans. “How come you hired this stranger? I thought we agreed to get one of the local boys.” It was a statement, not an opening for an argument.
    “They’re all working. When I stopped in at Frank’s to see if his son was available, this Shad Russell was there and asked for the job,” she explained how it had come about.
    “Where is he from?” he frowned curiously.
    “Here and there. I didn’t ask specifically,” Charley admitted.
    “What kind of experience does he have?”
    “His list of previous employers reads like the Who’s Who of the cattle business,” she replied dryly as the scissors sliced through the last bit of cloth. “Sit down in that chair and we’ll see if we can get your pants on.”
    Gary maneuvered awkwardly to sit on the edge of a straight chair, resting his crutches