‘Tighter,’ she pleaded quietly, and I obliged her. ‘Please, tighter.’ I squeezed her with my arms again, encircling her about the lower ribcag..., just as she liked. We were both silent for a long time as she contemplated the flames and the coals before her. ‘How do you feel?’ I asked in a whisper, my face buried in her lengthy golden hair. ‘Do you ‘feel’ like a wife yet?’ ‘Not really,’ she admitted after a brief hesitation. ‘I’m scared yet excited, happy yet nervous. This is what I have. Angie had picked up on all the things that Sara had and more; growing up on her Dad's ranch had taught her the difference between a working cowboy and the drug store variety. The one Angie had her eye on right now was a working cowboy, of that she was sure. The boots gave it away. They were what they called "mule skin". Made from thick harness leather, they were tough, the heel was a riding heel, and there were scuff marks left by the everyday use of spurs. She saw other things as well. His. More

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