“I’m not talking to Kevin.” Wyatt didn’t know a thing about sparkin’. But he knew sure as shooting that talking to Kevin would be stupid.

“Maybe Win knows,” Cheyenne said. “I could ask her.”

That sounded like a good idea. Wyatt wouldn’t have to do any more talking. He was worn clean out from all this talking.

“If she’s determined not to marry, I doubt you can change her mind. Prob’ly best to give up and go looking elsewhere for a woman.” Falcon shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Big brother, you’re not a lot of help. Between possum skinning and giving up, I should’ve just gone out looking for stray cows to herd in.” Wyatt decided to do that right now.

“Now, Wyatt, let me talk to Win. I can at least ask. And you know what? You oughta take Molly somewhere. Take her riding.”

“Too cold.”

“Take her to town for a meal at the diner. You could do that today.”

“She’s a better cook than Hogback.” The man who owned the diner called himself that and nothing else. No one knew his name.

Everyone knew he was a terrible cook.

“Um . . . I don’t know where a man takes a woman here to court her.” Cheyenne scratched her head. “I’ll talk to Win and give some thought to how to woo Molly. In the meantime, it’s cold, either come and help me sweep out the cabin or go home.”

Falcon turned to the woods, his ax slung over his shoulder. Cheyenne gave Wyatt a kiss on the cheek. Something she’d hardly ever done before. Well, maybe when he was little, and maybe when he’d been shot, but he’d been mostly out of his head with fever so he wasn’t sure.

“You’re going soft, Cheyenne.” He kissed her back.

He heard her chuckling softly as he swung up on his horse. She was halfway back to the cabin by the time he rode out of the yard. Back to the home he’d just run away from.

Molly’s parents.

Her pa was no great pillar of decency. What did that even mean?

Then he thought, if he asked her about her parents, she could ask him about Clovis. And Clovis Hunt was a sidewinder if ever there was one. He’d also broken Wyatt’s heart regularly when he was little, until Wyatt learned not to care. Or at least not to show he cared.

Did he have the nerve to ask her?

And if she asked back, did he have the nerve to answer?

Nine

Molly enjoyed cooking with a well-stocked pantry, and the RHR had a fine stove. But she’d just run off to town, and her excuse had been that she wanted to do some other job. Now here she stood, sliding a baked chicken out of the oven and sliding a pan of cinnamon rolls in.