“Well, I should get back to the hotel.” Susanna got to her feet. “I see the sun has set, and there’s not much light left. No sense in me getting lost.”
“I’m sure Owen will be happy to walk back with you,” Lia said as they made their way outside, where the boys were still running circles around Owen and LeRoy. “Won’t you, Owen?”
Owen came toward them. “Won’t I what?”
“Won’t you be willing to walk back with Susanna? It’s getting rather late, and who knows what rowdy souls she might encounter.”
“Of course I’ll walk you back. I was waiting around with just that in mind.”
Susanna smiled. “That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s perfectly selfish,” Owen admitted. “I get to keep company with a pretty girl.”
LeRoy laughed. “I’d say Owen gets the better end of the deal. Susanna will just have to suffer through.”
Susanna didn’t say a word about how much she liked the arrangement. She bid Lia good-bye, then headed back toward the hotel with Owen at her side.
“I appreciate the escort. I’m still not that familiar with everything.”
“It’ll take time, even in a small town. Maybe Sunday you would like to take a walk with me after church. Better yet, a ride. Do you ride horses?”
“I do. Quite well, in fact.” She grinned. “It was a definite pleasure of mine growing up.”
“Well, then we will definitely ride. I’ll borrow a couple of horses, and we can take a picnic lunch after church and go off down the river. I know a lovely place. When we get back, we can ride around San Marcial, and you can get to know where everything is. I’ll even point out the places you should never go.”
She laughed. “Sounds intriguing.”
“It’s meant to. I have to entice you somehow.”
“You had me enticed with the horseback riding,” she declared, unable to admit that anything that involved Owen would have drawn her utmost attention.
“Then it’s a date.”
6
After church that Sunday, Susanna dressed with special care in a brown split skirt and a brown-and-yellow calico blouse. The sleeves of the blouse were long and the neck high. She hoped it would keep her skin from the harsh burn of the sun.
She looked at her carefully pinned up hair and decided to pull it all down and go with a simple braid. The honey-brown mass spilled down her back in waves. Taking up her brush, Susanna stroked it into order and then braided it into a single plait.
Last, she took up a straw hat with a wide, full brim that would offer plenty of shade. She glanced in the small mirror hanging over her dressing table. It had been a long time since she’d really studied her image in a mirror. Since Mark’s death, she hadn’t cared what she looked like. Now it seemed like it might matter.
She turned to the left and then the right, catching only a bit of her image in the small mirror. She pinned on the hat and looked again. She smiled at her silliness and chided herself for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Owen was quite charming, but it was too early to pretend to have feelings for him. Or was it?
Owen was waiting for her when she finally exited the hotel. He had two horses saddled and a blanket roll and pack on the back of one of the horses. “I have lunch for us compliments of the Harvey House. I hope you aren’t tired of their fare just yet.”
“No, of course not.”
“This is Daisy,” he said, leading her to the sorrel mare. “She’s a little spirited when she hasn’t been ridden, so you’ll need to keep a tight rein on her. I could have gotten you a sidesaddle, but with her I think you’ll be glad to ride astride.”
“This is fine. Thanks for the warning.” Susanna rubbed the mare’s face. “I’m sure we’ll be good friends, won’t we, Daisy?”
Owen helped her mount, then jumped up on the tall bay next to Daisy. “This is Mannie. He’s my horse of choice when heading out for leisurely rides. He’s got a good temper with a hint of daring. I once jumped a high fence with him, and it was as if he were doing nothing more important than crossing a ditch. He’s quite the ride.”
“Is he yours?”
“He will be. I’ve been paying him off in installments. Lia’s father owns him and Daisy. He rents horses to the livery here in town.”
“How nice.” She got a feel for the saddle, finding it just a trifle big. It would suffice, however.
“Well, follow me,” Owen said, reining his horse away from the depot and Harvey House and toward the long, meandering river.
Susanna noticed the long mesa across the river. “Does that have a name?” She pointed.
“Mesa del Contadero is the official name, but most folks just call it Black Mesa. We can climb it sometime if you’re up for an adventure.”
“Sounds like fun, although I think I’d have to buy a different pair of boots.” She glanced at her riding boots. They were far too nice and the soles too slick for getting traction on a climb.
“The shoemaker’s widow has no proper boots,” he said, laughing.
“It would seem you know all about me.”
“I asked Lia a lot of questions.” His smile only widened. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. So long as I get to do the same.”
He chuckled. “Con mi permiso, which is Spanish for with my permission. Lia taught that to me first thing. She said it was a good thing to know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They rode side by side in silence until San Marcial was well behind them. Susanna didn’t know when she’d last felt so carefree and happy. There was just a hint of breeze that made the sun not quite so unbearable, and she was glad to be rid of her family—at least for a little while. Their unhappiness and complaining threatened to put a stranglehold on her most days.
“Tell me about yourself,” Owen said, breaking the silence.
“I thought Lia already told you everything.”
He shook his head. “She’s only told me what you’ve let her know. I want to know it all. I want to know about your husband and your life in Topeka.”
Susanna was taken aback. “You want to know about Mark?”
“Of course. He was important to you, and I want to know about the things that were important to you.”
Susanna smiled and gave a little shrug. “What can I say? We were lifelong friends. I’d known him since grade school. We were in the same class, and it was like we were always meant to be friends.”
“What was he like?”
“Sensible but fun-loving. Kind and gentle, but assertive and self-confident. But it was his father who made the shoes, as Lia mentioned. Jenkins Shoes. You might have heard of them.”
“No, I don’t think so, but please go on.” He gave her a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat.
“Well, his father made these shoes that became quite sought after, and Mark knew when he was still a boy that he wanted to sell his father’s shoes.”
“He didn’t want to make them?”
“No. He never felt that was his talent. He was good, however, at everything involved in running a store and marketing the shoes. He worked day and night with his father to learn all that he could about the shoes and how they were made, but he never felt making them was his gift. And it wasn’t. Being in charge of the stores and working to distribute the shoes was definitely what he was good at. By the time he died, he had managed to get five different stores in five major cities in just a couple of years. The shoes were quite popular.”