Scott also prided himself on the skill of observing. Sure, he didn’t have the same eye that Johnny developed as a gun fighter, however, the years in the military and the horrors of a civil war prison camp taught him not to miss much. He too observed the skill in which Kinsey could handle a horse and he watched as she didn’t hesitate one moment in helping Johnny maneuver a rather obstinate steer back to the herd. Scott also noticed the pure joy on her face as she rode along with them. She would flash him the look of total freedom and he couldn’t help but embrace it. She was starting to love this land as much as he did. Yes, he was impressed with his cousin and quite proud of her.
Additionally, Scott was not lost on the charming looks Johnny was presenting to Kinsey or how Kinsey was returning the favor. Should he be concerned? Maybe it was time to have a conversation; he just couldn’t decide with whom first…Johnny or Kinsey?
“She handles a horse just fine, Boston.”
Scott nodded as his brother slowed his palomino to match the pace of Scott’s horse.
“Yes she does.”
“Did you see how she helped me guide that steer?”
“Yes I did. I’m very proud of Kinsey.”
“You are?”
Scott’s smile dissolved into a puzzled look. “Of course I am! Why would you ask that?”
“You have a strange way of showing it. Sometimes you seem too…”
Silence.
“Protective? Unreasonable? What?”
Johnny half smiled, nodded and looked straight ahead.
“Little brother, I care very much about Kinsey. I’d hate to see anything happen that would upset her or harm her. I’m sure you understand.”
Johnny was the first to look away from the locked stare with his brother and rode ahead. Scott made a decision. He would be having that conversation with Johnny first.
The shadows were getting smaller and the temperature warmer; two signs it was time to head back to the ranch. Scott stopped and glanced around. He spotted Johnny but where is Kinsey? Reading Johnny’s body language, Scott guessed his brother was thinking the same thing…where is Kinsey?
“Guess it’s time to revisit the definition of - like glue.”
Together they heard Kinsey’s voice calling their names coming from a distant grove of trees. She didn’t sound alarmed or frightened…more like…demanding. Riding up the rise and past the trees the brothers came to an abrupt halt. Before them was once a sorry excuse for a pond which now had transformed into a glorious large mud hole. Both boys sat in their saddles as their minds tried to digest what their eyes were seeing. The mud hole had claimed two victims; one small calf and Kinsey.
“Scott, what was that story from the Greeks you told me once? The lady had snakes for hair.”
“Medusa. Don’t look directly into her eyes Johnny.”
Kinsey had lost her hat early in the attempt to extract the calf from the dark sticky mud. It appeared she had tried to brush the curls out of her eyes but only accomplished smearing the sticky substance through her hair and on to her face. Her hair was now drying at odd angles and sweat was adding to the streaks on her cheeks.
“Scott! He’s stuck!”
“That’s not the only thing stuck, half-pint.”
Kinsey looked down and was surprised to see the mud which was once around her ankles had made its way to her knees. Scott dismounted, methodically removed his gloves, took his hat off, placed the gloves in his hat, rolled up his sleeves and gestured his head towards Kinsey to get his brother moving.
“My kingdom for one of those Melbourne photographers right now.”
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