Leading the feisty mare and, looking neither left nor right, she strode past her oxen, giving Caleb a slight nod. “Better close your mouth, Caleb. It’ll catch flies,” Callie said curtly. Like a spring door, Caleb’s mouth snapped shut. “Uh,” he faltered, “that’s a right pretty horse, Callie.” Then, not leaving well enough alone, he added, “And you look right pretty, too.” Caleb’s words earned him a scathing glance, freezing him in place, his Adam’s apple working furiously in his throat. The horse jerked on the end of the rope and Callie pulled her up short. “Don’t you dare call any more attention to me than I have already managed,” she whispered to the mare. Callie made a determined line toward Seth, whose forearms rested across the pommel of his saddle, reins lax, shoulders relaxed. His face was impassive, giving no clue as to his emotions.
