The Western Dare (Harlequin Heartwarming) Read Online Free PDF Page A

he poked the legs of his best worsted wool slacks into his boot tops, Camp wished he’d changed clothes before leaving campus.
    “Ready,” he said, rejoining her. “How many horses are we talking?” As Karen had suggested, he knelt and ran a hand down the iron-hard leg of a horse with gentle eyes.
    “Four per team, and two per wagon spare. I’m a stickler for rotating stock. We have vets meeting us in Fort Larned and McNees Crossing. My son Terrill will deliver us feed and fresh water. We won’t run our animals into the ground the way pioneers did. This is a reenactment, not the real McCoy. That’s why I asked drivers to arrive a day early. So you’ll all learn to hitch, unhitch and handle these babies.”
    Babies? Hippo babies, maybe. Camp stood. “Uh, Maizie...all my drivers are women. I never mentioned it—never presumed that my role mattered. I’m a college professor conducting a study comparing modern and pioneer women. My volunteers aren’t exactly the types who work out with weights or anything.” Again, Emily Benton came to mind. Smooth, unblemished skin and a waist Camp could span with his hands. If her head reached his shoulder, he’d be surprised. Camp suffered a second wave of guilt as he eyed the tons of muscle. “Why don’t I leave the choosing to you,” he said smoothly, remembering the last part of Karen’s advice.
    “Uh-huh!” Maizie stroked a callused hand down the back of a massive brown-and-white horse. “We’ll go with the Clydesdales for your ladies. At seventeen to eighteen hands, they’re a little taller than the Percherons, but more even-tempered. Perches are bred with Arabians, so they’re more feisty. Belgians are the biggest. Strongest, too. Most are nineteen to twenty hands. You men can drive them.”
    “Well, I...” He tugged an ear. “I’m not exactly going with the train.”
    “Uh-huh. Where do you fit in, sonny? You’re laying out a passel of dough for somebody who’s missing the fun.”
    Camp summarized his plans and ended by saying, “I’d prefer others on the train didn’t know about my study. I don’t want them purposely helping the women. Ruins the results, you understand.”
    “It’s been my experience that people on these trips either start out friendly and hate one another before the end, or they begin every man for himself and finish up pulling together. Thing I can’t see...is women with any guts a’tall lettin’ you study ’em like pet rats, ’n you stayin’ out of the maze.” She spit another stream past his ear, pinning him with faded, all-knowing eyes.
    “Of course they will. My paper isn’t about how I’d fare in the wilds. Men haven’t gone soft. We still do manual labor.”
    “Uh-huh.” Maizie gave the horse a final pat. “How well do you know women, boy?” she asked, leading the way out of the pasture. “Claim to be an expert, do you?”
    Camp’s laughter held a nervous edge. “Show me a man who claims to be an expert on females and I’ll show you a bald-faced liar. Even so, I know some in my group will stick until death to prove that anything pioneer women did, modern women can do better.”
    “Uh-huh!” Maizie dug a stubby pencil and a wrinkled pad from her skirt pocket and wrote out a rental slip for the horses. “Stop by the office and pay Karen. Meet me at the general store on Market Street tomorrow at ten to buy supplies. I hope you’ve got the muscle to stock four wagons. It’s definitely manual labor—loading bags of flour, coffee, sugar, salt, beans, crackers and sides of home-cured bacon.”
    Camp took the bill and climbed into his car. Had he made an error taking her into his confidence? The way she said uh-huh, a body would think Maizie Boone had a Ph.D. in psychology. He chuckled as he started the car. Her advice, like little Lucy’s in the Peanuts cartoons, was probably worth the same—about five cents.
    * * *
    W HEN S ATURDAY rolled around, the day Maizie had set aside to teach drivers how to