Wyoming Fierce

“They’re working on prosthetics that can be directly connected to nerve endings, so they work like real hands,” she told him. “The whole field of prosthetics is very exciting, with all the advances....”

“And why would you be reading up on that?” he asked suddenly.

She hesitated. “Because I have this idiot friend who thinks he’s disabled,” she fired right back.

He burst out laughing. “Are we friends?”

“If we weren’t, why would I be rescuing you from bars and certain arrest?” she wondered out loud.

He sighed. “Yeah,” he replied. “I guess we are friends.” He paused. “You’re barely twenty-two, Bodie,” he said gently. “I’m thirty-four. It’s an odd friendship. And just so you know, I’m not in the market for a child bride.”

“You think I’d want to marry you?” she exclaimed.

There was a hesitation. She could almost feel the outrage. He’d be thinking immediately she didn’t want to marry him because of his arm.

“Just because you know a tibia from a fibula when you dig it up, right?” she continued quickly in a sardonic tone. “And because you know how to pronounce Australopithecus and you know what a foramen magnum is!” she said, referring to the large hole at the base of the skull.

He seemed taken aback. “Well, I do know what it is.”

“You wait,” she said. “When I finish my master’s work and get into the PhD program in anthropology, I’ll give you a run for your money.”

“That’s a long course of study.”

“I know. Years and years. But I don’t have any plans to marry, either,” she added, “and certainly not to a man just because he can tell an atlas from a sacrum. So there.”

He laughed softly. “I used to love to dig.”

“You can get people to dig for you, and still do it,” she suggested. “In fact, when you’re doing the delicate work, it doesn’t really require two hands. Just a toothbrush and a trowel and no aversion to dust and mud.”

“I suppose.”

“You shouldn’t give up something you love.”

“Bones and mud.”

“Yes.” She laughed. “Bones and mud.”

“Well, I’ll think about it.”

“Think about the therapist, too, would you?” she asked. “I’ve already lined up a summer job at a dig in Colorado next year after graduation. I’ll be away for several weeks. Nobody to rescue you from bar brawls,” she added pointedly. “And depending on which specialization I choose, I might go overseas for PhD work, do classical archaeology in the Middle East....”

“No!” he said flatly. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll talk to your grandfather if you even consider it.”

She was surprised and flattered by the protest. She knew he was remembering what had happened to him in Iraq, with the roadside bomb. “Cane, I wouldn’t be working in a combat zone,” she said softly. “It would be at a dig site, with security people.”

“I’ve seen the quality of some of their security people,” he came back. “Rent-a-Merc,” he said sarcastically. “Not even real military—independent contractors who work for the highest bidder. And I wouldn’t trust them to guard one of our culls!” he said, alluding to the non-producing cows who were sold at auction each breeding season.

“Selling off poor cows because they can’t have babies,” she muttered. “Barbarian!”

He laughed roundly. “Listen, ranches run on offspring. No cow kids, no ranch, get it?”

“I get it. But it’s still cow insensitivity. Imagine if you couldn’t have kids and somebody threw you off the ranch!”

“I imagine they’d have a pretty hard time harnessing me,” he admitted. “Besides, that’s not something I’ll ever have to worry about, I’m sure.” He hesitated. “You want kids?”

“Of course, someday,” she qualified, “when I’m through school and have my doctorate and have some success in my profession, so that I can afford them.”

“I think it might be a problem if you wait until you’re moving around with a walker,” he said.

“It won’t take that long!”

“Generally speaking, if you wait to have kids until you can afford them, you’ll never have any.” There was a pause. “I hope you don’t plan to do what a lot of career women do—have a child from a donor you don’t even know.”

She made a huffing sound. “If I have kids, I plan to have them in the normal way, and with a husband, however unpopular that idea may be these days!”

He laughed. “Statistically, married people still have the edge in childbearing.”

“Civilization falls on issues of religion and morality,” she stated. “First go the arts, then go the morals, then go the laws and out goes the civilization. Egypt under the pharaohs, Rome…”

“I have to leave pretty soon.”

“I was just getting up to speed!” she protested. “Where’s my soapbox…?”

“Another time. I studied western civ, too, you know.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

He hesitated. “You’re sure that nothing…happened?” he asked again.

“Cane, you were too drunk for anything to happen,” she replied. “Why are you so concerned?”

“Men get dangerous when they drink, honey,” he said, and her heart jumped and skipped in a flurry of delight, because he’d never used pet names. “I wouldn’t want to do anything out-of-the-way. Maybe it’s a bad idea to let my brothers keep calling you when I go on a bender. One day, I might do something unspeakable and we’d both have to live with it.”

“The answer to that is that you stop getting drunk in bars,” she said in a droll tone.

“Spoilsport.”

“You can drink at home, can’t you?”

“It’s the ambiance of bars. I don’t have that at the ranch. Besides, Mavie would throw me out the back door and pepper me with potato peelings if I even tried it.”

“Your housekeeper has good sense.”

“Good something. At least she can cook.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you go,” he said after a minute.

“You be careful on the road,” she said softly, in a tone far more intimate than she meant it to be.