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The New Cowboy by Jennifer B.

Word Count 613

Ratings: PG. Suggestivity.

2nd in the A New Family Series

Scene: Scott at the saloon, watching Johnny, pondering his own problems

So there he is. I’ve been looking for him. He’s sitting alone at that table in the back, facing the room, his back to the wall. What’s with that location, anyway? Wouldn’t he rather be in the middle of the action? He seemed to like that with Pardee. 

We’re partners now. Should I get to know him? I heard someone say he’s a gunfighter. Scary thought, that is. Apparently he’s famous. He doesn’t seem to be the cold-hearted killer that I’ve heard gunfighers are, but then again, I could be wrong. 

Wow, never in my mind could I have imagined a brother like him. I remember a long time ago wishing I had a brother, someone with whom to share my life, but him? Not on your life. He’s … an enigma. That’s it. He’s puzzling. He seemed so cocky that first day, but I could see vulnerability too, and youth. 

I wonder how young he is. Murdoch never said, but he’s got to be at least two, three years younger than I am. Perhaps more. Wait. He signed the parnership agreement, so that means he’s at least 21. But still, 21 and already an accomplished gunfighter? Just when did he start down that path, anyway? I shudder to think.

I wonder if it’s as hard for him as it is for me—being here, that is. Probably not. He’s used to it, in the West, I mean. He’s used to wearing a heavy Colt, used to riding with that big saddle, used to how people think and act out here. Sure, he’s been in Mexico, but still, Mexico isn’t Boston.

Hell, in Boston I’d be in formal clothes, making small talk at some stuffy party, trying to bed some lovely lady from one of the old families. The most I’d have to worry about was her father finding out about what I did. Ha. Not that I cared with— Oh, Barbara. I miss you. No. Better not go there. I have a new life now. One I’m sure into which she wouldn’t fit. 

He’s taking another shot. How does he do that and stay sober? What would Murdoch think if he got drunk? What does Murdoch think about anything, other than the ranch, that is? I doubt he cares that much about either of us. If he did, he knew where I was all these years; why not contact me? If not when I was a child, then certainly why not after I turned 21? It’s not like I fell off the planet like Johnny appeared to have done.

He’s eyeing that brunette now, the one who’s been trying to get his attention since I’ve been here. I wonder…hmmm. Yep, he’s getting up with her.  Maybe I should follow his example. This redhead seems to like me. She doesn’t look anything like Barbara. I could use a distraction; a soft, feminine dalliance. Someone to ease the transition from Boston blueblood to Western cowboy. I could go for that.

Ride ‘em, cowboy!


To: (A) Family Again


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