"We'll miss you."
"Honest?"
"Of course!" And she gave him her hand.
He drew his foot from the stirrup. "Put your foot in there," he said, still holding her hand.
"But why?"
"'Cause I'm goin' to ride off with you, like in books." He laughed, but his laughter was tense and unnatural.
It was dark. The stars shone faintly. The air was soft with a subtle fragrance; the fragrance of sun-warmed pine that the night had stolen from the slumbering woodlands. She slipped her foot in the wide stirrup. Half laughing, she allowed him to draw her up. She felt the hard strength of his arm, and was thrilled. She had not meant to do anything like this.
"You been playin' with me," he told her, whispering, "and I take my pay."
She turned her face away, but he found her lips and crushed her to him.
"Oh!" she whispered as he kissed her again and again.