Curling her fingers around the bone shaft sent waves of relief through her. Nonetheless, Kathryn didn’t want to discuss her fears. She thought it over and promised herself not to repeat the mistakes she’d made in town. By being meek, she’d given men an opportunity to push her into bad situations. With no alternative, she’d made the best of it. No more. I’m not going to do that again. I’ve learned my lesson.
Kathryn chose to redirect the conversation herself. “Mr. Gregor, I’d best tell you I’m not a woman to touch a snake. Should you kill one, you’ll need to prepare and eat it on your own.”
His brows went skyward. “You plan to cook our supper?”
“I presumed that to be the plan. If you hunt it, I think it only just that I prepare the meal.”
“Do you even know how to cook over an open fire?”
“As long as it’s not raining, I can give a fair accounting of myself.”
Chris smacked his thigh. “Grand! A lass from the city who can do more than scorch coffee and burn meat over a fire.”
Just how many women has he had cook for him under the stars? She worried afresh for her safety.
The buckboard jounced along the rutted road, and even at their slow pace, the horses kicked up a fair amount of dust and grit. Chris produced a canteen and offered it to her. She took a dainty sip before handing it back. “Thank you.”
“Drink as much as you’d like, Miss Regent. I packed two kegs of water, and we’ve a jug of apple cider, too.”
She took another drink, then reached for the reins so he could have his share.
“I’ve got it.” He tilted his head and drank deeply. After capping the canteen, he set it aside. “You didna eat this noon.”
“It doesn’t matter.” The way he stared at her made her want to writhe.
“You’re starting to wilt in the sun, songbird. A short rest in the shade and a bite to eat’ll perk you right up. When folks travel, they have to be careful, and they have to be up front about things. You’re starting to feel poorly, and I was hoping you’d tell me yourself instead of me having to bring it up.”
“I may not be at my best, but I’m scarcely ill.”
“You’re splitting hairs. I’ll not scold you for this, but I’ll get riled if you pull such a stunt again.” He halted the wagon, leapt off, and reached up to help her down.
As his hands cupped around her middle, Kathryn tried to hide her surprise. For the past year, she’d not left town. The simple contact of a man spanning her waist hit her with stunning force. His fingers moved to give him a better grip then clamped more tightly. She lightly rested her hands on his shoulders to help balance herself. Mr. Gregor gently lifted, pivoted sideways, and lowered her. For a brief second, they were eye to eye. She saw kindness in his eyes, then a flash of anger. She found herself suffering the embarrassing position of being held several inches above the dirt.
“You’re nothing more than skin and bones!”
“Sir, you forget yourself! You’ve no call to be so appallingly personal.”
Instead of setting her down as she fully expected him to, Chris Gregor swung her up and took better hold of her by sliding an arm beneath her knees. “You’re not walking until I get you fed. If I put you down, you’d fall flat on your face!”
“You’re exaggera—”
“I told you I dinna split hairs. If you believe you’ve got room to talk me out of my observation, you’d best think again.” He set her down in the shade of a shrubby-looking hackberry. “Best for you to have something straight off. We’ll cook at supper time. For now, jerked beef and some apples might do, along with some bread. Stay put.”
Kathryn watched him stalk off to the buckboard. He knew what he was doing, because he quickly located the desired food and brought it back. Everything about Chris Gregor struck her as self-assured and capable. He got a little too domineering with her, so she’d have to stand her ground. To his credit, he’d gotten her away from Mr. Hepplewhite, but would he settle her anyplace better? Only time would reveal an answer to her thorny questions.
After she ate enough to satisfy him, they were under way again. Mr. Gregor leaned toward her and asked in a conversational tone, “Just how well can you see without your spectacles?”
“I’m blind as a badger.”
He chuckled. “That was alliterative but not informative in the least. Suppose you wax a bit less poetic and a heap more practical. What distance do you see well, and when do you lose your focus?”
She held out her arm three-quarters of the way. “I can see well this far. The horse is hazy, and I can only see a blur of brown and green beyond him.”
“And you offered to take the reins?”
She heard the disbelief in his voice. “I supposed I couldn’t do much damage for a few seconds.”
“Until we rustle up some spectacles for you, dinna e’en think to be holding the reins or touching a rifle!”
Pressing a hand to her bosom, Kathryn gave him a shocked look. “Mr. Gregor, I would never even think to touch one! Papa was quite firm about ladies staying clear of men’s weapons. Mama told me men didn’t pick up crochet hooks or knitting needles, so women shouldn’t pick up men’s firearms.”
He snorted.
“And just what is unreasonable about that?”
“Only those well prepared weather life’s roughest storms. As soon as we get you settled in, you’re going to learn to shoot a rifle. As a single woman, you have to be able to defend yourself.”
“I hadn’t given that much consideration.” She sat quietly, and after a lengthy pause, she half whispered, “Mr. Gregor, I thought you said you were taking me someplace safe. Why would I need any protection?”
“Consider it an ounce of prevention, Miss Regent.” His hand smoothed over her fists. “You were neither safe nor happy back there. This change is for the better.”
She nodded mutely. Lord, please let that be true.
“You’ll fall in love with my sisters-in-law. Carmen’s forever busy with some project to help one of the locals—making a dress for some widower’s daughter, going with the parson on his sick calls, and such. She’s got quite a garden, too. She and Duncan live across the street. Duncan’s a cobbler.
“Rob’s a doctor. He’s the youngest—smartest, too. Mercy’s his wife. Wee Elspeth is a year old now, and Mercy’ll be having another bairn in the next month or so. She’s just as busy as Carmen—wi’ the bairns and because she’s taken to assisting Rob whene’er he needs help.”
“They sound like wonderful helpmeets.”
“Aye, you’ve the right of it, there.” A second later, he shoved the reins into her hands and grabbed his rifle. Kathryn couldn’t help but let out a sharp scream as he fired it. Afterward, she gave him an apologetic look.
“Dinna go lookin’ so sheepish, lass. I surprised you is all. Looks like we got us some supper, though.” He grinned at her a few minutes later as he carried a jackrabbit back to the wagon. “I hope you remember a fast tune or two.”
She flashed back a self-conscious grin. “I know all fifteen verses of ‘I Come, O Savior, to Thy Table.’ Will that suffice?”
“All fifteen? By the time you finish singing, I’ll have this old jack skinned, spitted, roasted, and eaten.”
“I take it you don’t care for that hymn.”
“Maybe Mr. Perronet’s ‘All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name’ or Wesley’s ‘Love Divine’ if you’re of the hymn-singing persuasion. They’re a bit more upbeat.”
“I believe I could manage that.” So he’s a churchgoing man. He’s told me about his family but nothing about himself.
“You’re pondering something. Mind sharing what it is?”
Figuring he’d opened the door wide for questions, Kathryn decided to take advantage. “You told me of your family but nothing about yourself.”
“I’m a Scot. Was a miner back home. Since I’ve been here, I’ve done a wee bit of everything—farming, mining, construction.” He shrugged.
He’s b
eing evasive. “What do you do now?”
“I work for the grand state of Texas, going around and solving problems.”
“Oh.” When he didn’t say anything further, Wren fell silent. He expects me to trust him when he’s keeping a secret. It serves me right, though. I’m keeping a secret of my own.
Chapter 4
Chris stopped just before sunset. “Wind’ll kick up tonight, so we’ll bedroll here.”
They were so far away from everything, from everyone. Wren shuddered.
“Here, Miss Regent. Sit on this rock whilst I fetch your shawl. The shadow of the boulders might seem a wee bit sinister, but you’ll soon note it serves as a windbreak and will bounce heat from the fire back at us. Aye, and better still, there’s a wee little spring on the other side of the rocks.”
“Then why don’t we set up camp over there?”
He slid her shawl around her shoulders with enough solicitude to be mannerly but not so much as to hover or seem fawning. “Wind’s blowing in the wrong direction. You’d be too cold.”
“If it would make things easier, I could wear my other dress over this one.”
“Nae, lass. ’Tisna worth fussing o’er. I’ll go water Nero.”
The thought of him being close frightened her, but the thought of him leaving her scared her witless. “Do you think coyotes might come around?”
“It’s always a possibility. The campfire will keep all but the most brazen creatures at bay. My gun will scare those off.” He rested his hands on his hips. “I’ll give you the Bowie knife again for the night, but I’m needing it now so I can go dress the rabbit.”
After supper Chris shoved another stick into the fire. “I dinna think I’ve ever tasted better rabbit, Miss Regent. You did a fine job cookin’.”
“It didn’t take more than a few quick turns over the fire.”
“Must’ve been the way you basted the rabbit with your songs. You surely can sing. It was a pure pleasure sitting and listening to you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gregor.”
“You look bone weary, lass. Sleep. I’ll have one last cup of coffee and hit my bedroll, too.”
Kathryn nodded and sidled over to her bedroll. While he’d been busy dressing the rabbit, she’d laid out their bedrolls—one on either side of the fire. Now she sat down and tentatively lifted her arms, removed all of the hairpins, and let her hair uncoil. She dragged the brush through the heavy tresses, then swiftly wove them into a single, fat braid to keep her hair from tangling during the night. That done, she opened her quilt, laid down, and flipped half of it back over herself. She didn’t know if she could ever fall asleep. At least I have his Bowie knife.
It took Kathryn a long while to coast off. Christ angled his stance so he could see her. Working in the mines taught him a man had to prepare for the unexpected. That being the case, he made a habit of carrying a knife up his left sleeve. Duncan had created a clever sheath that lay hidden there. Wren remained blissfully ignorant about it, so she’d finally fallen asleep. Even in her sleep, she clutched his knife. Puir wee lass.
He looked closer and scowled. Shivers wracked her frame. He got a second blanket from the buckboard and carefully sneaked over to her.
The softest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen tilted her lips when the extra weight descended. Chris fought the urge to hunker down and run the backs of his fingers down her cheek. He wanted to touch her hair, too. When she’d taken it down, he’d almost choked on his coffee. All twisted up in that stingy schoolmarm bun, it wasn’t worth a second look; but hanging loose and free, it took a man’s breath away. Abundant tresses flowed in luscious waves clear down to her hips, and the firelight brought out golden highlights. She had no notion how stunning her hair was. If she did, she’d have worn it in a softer, more inviting style—one that tempted a man to steal a quick touch but still prim enough that he’d have to concoct an excuse like a piece of fuzz or a speck of dust. She’d smile her thanks, and he’d melt.
Then Chris reconsidered. Maybe Wren knew how beautiful her hair was and hid it away, just as she dressed in a homely mud-brown dress to downplay her appeal. With a man like Hepplewhite bothering her, she might have hoped looking drab would discourage any attention.
In his line of work, he’d seen all sorts of people assume disguises. It took a lot to throw him off, but she’d succeeded. Beyond her ugly dress and hairstyle, beneath the dark circles under her eyes and timid ways, Kathryn Regent possessed a natural beauty. Without the thick spectacles, her eyes were an incredible color—one that drew a man closer and enticed him to examine their depths. Yes, the little wren was far more than her plumage promised.
As he did when on the trail, Chris dozed very lightly. Whenever he lifted his head to check on her, she was in the very same place. The poor thing was so exhausted, she didn’t have the strength to toss and turn. He’d tell Mercy and Carmen to make sure to feed her well and make her take naps.
Moving quietly, Chris broke camp as the sun rose. Letting Miss Regent have an extra bit of sleep wouldn’t hurt anything. Hazy beams peeped over the rock, filtered down, and kissed her awake. The wisps of her hair that broke free during the night coiled in a nimbus, and the golden light turned them into a buttery halo. Sleepy eyed, she looked up at him, then scrambled to her feet.
“Good morning, Miss Regent. We’ve a long day’s travel ahead of us.”
“Good morning.” A fetching blush filled her cheeks as she bent, shook out her blankets, and folded them.
Her bashful nature gave her a certain maidenly appeal. What am I thinking? I dinna care how sweet and innocent the lass is, I’m not about to be tied down.
“I’ll refill the canteens.”
“I’ve already seen to that and watered Nero. Here. Eat up.” He pushed a wedge of cheese and a chunk of bread into her hands.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll eat, regardless.” He glowered at her.
Wren gave him a disgruntled look. “You’re going to hound me until I eat this, aren’t you? Of course you are. Why did I bother to ask?”
“The better question is—why don’t you take better care of yourself?”
“I can’t very well talk and eat at the same time.” She took a bite.
Chris threw back his head and chortled. “I never imagined beneath your prim and proper ways you had a feisty streak.”
After swallowing, she started to lift the cheese to her mouth. “In Scotland, don’t they quote the maxim of not judging a book by its cover?” Straight, white teeth sank into the cheese.
If a little witty repartee would make her eat, Chris was more than willing. He crooked a brow. Just in case she couldn’t see him well enough, he teased, “Whoever made up that saying never saw those dime novels. The cover is just as absurd as the contents.”
“Mmm.” The corners of her mouth tilted upward. “You have to have read some of them to be able to speak with such authority.”
“If this were a court of law, I’d have to plead guilty to the charge.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And you, Miss Regent? Have you indulged in frittering away time reading them?”
“No.” She ate another bite.
Something about her tone made him suspect she hadn’t told the truth. “Now how did you manage to step outside the courtroom?”
“You were in that pretend courtroom. I wasn’t.”
“Feeling sassy, are you? Well, well.” He smirked. “I’ve attended some trials. If people don’t want to appear but they’re forced to be witnesses, they’re called hostile witnesses. I’m now dragging you into my courtroom, Miss Regent.”
“That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole—”
“I beg your pardon!” She didn’t look in the least bit upset. Instead, her eyes sparkled and her smile grew. “I’m a lady. Ladies do not swear.”
He refrained from mentioning that ladies didn’t speak with their mouths full of breakfast. After all
, the whole notion of him standing here, goading her, was so he’d be sure she ate—and she was. “Then promise you’ll be honest.”
“Sir, you wound me, implying I might be dishonest. If you wouldn’t believe me in times past, how could you possibly give weight to my words now?”
“If you ever give up on being a seamstress, you might think about becoming an attorney.”
“Never. I wouldn’t want to have to deal with the unsavory types. But I will confess, I’ve read some of the dime novels. They span from insipid to inspired.”
“We—“ He went silent as the sound of hooves in the distance reached him.
“Yes?” She looked at him expectantly.
“Someone’s coming.” Chris strode over, grabbed her by the arm, and tucked her into a small cleft in the boulder. “Stay there and dinna make a sound.” He turned away and grimaced. Even if Wren obeyed his edict, the riders might still spot the buckboard. Dogtail was by far the nearest town, and from the direction the riders were coming, Chris feared that was their destination. Lord, let me be wrong. Let these be good people, or at least let them pass by on the other side of the boulders. I brought the lass out here, and I’m responsible for her. Just in case, he reached for his weapon.
Three men stopped on the other side of the boulders. Chris silently thanked the Lord for the wind—it had caused him to camp on this side of the rocks, had obliterated any footprints he might have left, and had long since blown away any lingering scent of food or fire.
“Let’s see what we got,” one of the men said.
Three of them. I have the element of surprise. But I’ve got the woman. If something happens, she’ll be at their mercy.
“Money’s easy to divvy up. The rest—well, I reckon whatever each of us took, we ought to keep.”
“Listen up, kid. You get what the boss decides. Get it?”
“Sure.” After a short pause, the young voice added, “I’ve never had a timepiece.”
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