by Sandy James
Who exactly are you trying to fool, Kayla?
She wanted him there. Plain and simple.
“Beautiful?” Drake let out a snort, forcing two white puffs from his nostrils. “Beautiful if you wanna freeze your a— If you wanna freeze your backside off.”
“My ass is quite toasty,” she said, patting the fur hide that covered their legs. “Thank you very much.”
His laughter always made her smile. “It would appear that I’m teaching you some new words.”
“Oh, I assure you, they are not new to me. There have been many men who have spoken them in my presence, even if they were forced to apologize for those transgressions. However, I have surrendered any attempt to teach you not to curse when I am around since it is clearly a nasty habit. Therefore, to break you of that pastime, I will use those shameful words as well to show you how repugnant they are.”
He turned to grin at her. “No, you won’t.”
“I most certainly will. When the moment is right, of course.” She punctuated that promise with a curt nod.
Drake laughed again and gave the reins a shake to get the horses moving a little faster. “We’ll just have to see about that. Can’t see a dainty thing like you letting a few damns or shits slip out. Not in your nature.”
“Why, I can damn well curse with the best of them.”
He said nothing, but he wanted to let out a laugh at how strange it sounded to hear her curse. A few moments passed before he glanced at the paper she’d pulled from her coat pocket and now held in her mittened hands. “Think you’ve got enough on that list?” he asked. “We’re likely to be snowed in for at least a couple of months.”
Pursing her lips, she considered what she’d written. “Perhaps I shall increase a few of these quantities.” Then she looked over to him. “You truly believe we shall be unable to leave the farm for two whole damn months?”
He nodded. “Maybe even longer. Better give that list another check, Miss Backer. Don’t forget the pane of glass with all that food. Although it’s better to have too much in the larder than go hungry. I’d hate to have to eat a horse or two.”
She grinned at him. “I would dare say that Rusty feels the same damn way.”
When had Kayla grown comfortable teasing him?
Drake wasn’t sure, but he liked this side of her personality. Then he scowled when he remembered her cursing. It just wasn’t right, having a lady like Kayla saying bad words.
“A bad memory?” she asked.
“Pardon?”
“You were frowning so fiercely for a moment. I thought that perhaps an unpleasant memory had taken your thoughts.”
“I was frownin’ because you keep sayin’ ‘damn.’ I don’t like it.”
She had the nerve to grin at him. “Neither do I.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“What I meant was that I dislike hearing you saying ‘damn.’ So long as you choose to curse, then I will follow suit. Damn right, I will.”
“Stop that!”
Still smiling sweetly, she began to hum a happy little tune, probably because she was so pleased with herself at getting him riled up.
“You’re an exasperating woman, Kayla Backer.”
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “So I have been told. By quite a few people.”
The clear skies made for a cold ride, and she snuggled tight against his side. Not that he minded in the least. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized exactly how wrong he’d been to assume that no man wanted her. Truth was that she was the kind of woman who deserved better than the unmarried men living around the town, and he was glad she’d never accepted any of their offers to marry.
A spark ignited in his thoughts, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop it from burning.
What if I married her?
A ridiculous notion, and yet Drake couldn’t make himself push it aside. Not that he was the marrying kind, but now that he saw the world through clear eyes, he knew that life as a cowboy wasn’t something a man could enjoy for long. It was dangerous work, and if even a body survived without a major injury, he simply couldn’t herd cattle as he aged. Time took too high a toll on a man.
If he wasn’t going to be a cowboy, then what exactly was he going to do with his life?
That was a question Drake had no answer for. Yet.
He tried to divert his attention from stressing over his future. “Where are you from, Miss Backer?”
“Would you kindly answer a question for me?” she asked, sounding a bit exasperated.
A glance to his right revealed a stern frown on her face. “Fire away,” he said, not at all sure of her change in mood.
“Since you insist upon me using your given name, why have you fallen back to calling me Miss Backer?”
Drake grinned. “After seeing how well you handled those varmints, I’m just bein’ respectful, ma’am.”
At least she smiled in return. “While I genuinely appreciate that respect, I have given you leave to call me Kayla.”
He shrugged.
She sighed.
A change of topic was in order. “Tell me where you’re from,” he suggested again.
“Are you speaking of what city I grew up in or from which country my ancestors came?”
“Ancestors?” He chuckled. “No, ma’am. The city.”
“New York City.”
Drake waited for her to say more, but several moments passed without Kayla elaborating. Glancing over, he was surprised to see a fierce frown on her lips. “What’s wrong?”
“I should not have revealed that.”
“Why?”
With a shake of her head, she glanced away.
Would the woman ever make sense to him? “Why’s it matter that you told me you’re from New York City?”
When she returned her gaze to him, he saw a fleeting moment of fright in her eyes. Then she straightened her spine. “The past is often best left in the past. May we please change the topic now?”
Still puzzled over her naming New York City—so very far away—as her home, Drake kept up his questions. There was so much he didn’t know about her, and before the winter was out, he intended to find out every detail she appeared to be protecting. “I thought Caleb said you were from St. Louis. I remember him saying he thought Sara was sent by a preacher in St. Louis to marry him. But now you’re sayin’ you’re from New York?”
“I do believe we are in for more snow soon,” she said, pulling the wolf pelt a little higher on her lap.
“You had to have come from Missourah at some point if that preacher sent you as a mail-order bride,” Drake insisted.
“We must remember to check the wire around the chicken coop again,” Kayla said with a too-sweet tone in her voice. “That pesky fox is sure to find a way in if we do not protect the hens.”
He released a frustrated sigh. “In other words, you’re not gonna tell me.”
“How astute of you.”
Perhaps if he opened up about himself, she’d be encouraged to do the same. “I’m from Texas originally. Youngest of ten kids, so I knew I’d have to make my own way in life pretty early.”
“Ten children? Oh my.”
“Mama and Pa probably still live there. Haven’t seen ’em in years. Not since I was ten and left with my uncle to learn to work the steers. Spent more time with him than I did my parents. Ended up calling Denver home. At least until Princess…er…Sara led me here.”
“I am familiar with the story of her theft of your company’s payroll,” Kayla said. “Surely you have forgiven her by now.”
Drake frowned. “Hard to pardon a woman who steals from you and sends you chasin’ her all the way to Montana to get the money back.”
Placing her hand gently on his arm, Kayla said, “You must understand why Sara stole from you. The woman was in an impossible situation, the kind that can make a person desperate. Sometimes the only way a woman can protect herself is to run as far away from danger as she is able—even all t
he way to a territory thousands of miles from her home.”
It wasn’t exactly what she said but how she said it that made the hair on the back of Drake’s neck stand on end.
Kayla was afraid of someone. Very afraid.
“There!” She pointed to the distance. “I see White Pines.”
Sure enough, the town was drawing near. Not close enough she should be so excited, but he took her enthusiasm for what it probably was—an excuse to end what was clearly an uncomfortable conversation.
“Yes, ma’am.” Drake gave the horses’ rumps a mild slap of the reins. “We’ll be there directly.”
Leaning closer to him, she let out a sigh that escaped her lips in a tendril of white. “I am ready to be warm.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid that you’re in the Montana Territory. That might not happen until May.”
* * *
“Miss Kayla.”
Kayla glanced away from the stack of canned goods she’d been considering to find Matthew Riley, the marshal of White Pines. His heavy coat was trimmed in beaver fur, an addition that his wife had surely provided. Victoria Riley was talented with a needle, as Kayla had learned whenever they’d attended quilting bees for newly married couples.
He tugged on the brim of his hat. “Good day, Miss Kayla.”
“And a fine day it is, Marshal Riley.” She inclined her head in greeting. “So nice to see you. Where is your wonderful wife?”
“Victoria’s at home, ma’am. She huddles pretty close to the fire lately.”
“Her time is drawing near, is it not?”
He nodded. “Pretty soon, Grace will have to stay in town in case the baby decides to come during a blizzard.”
“I’m sure Victoria will be grateful for your sister’s company.”
Matthew shifted his weight between his feet, and Kayla realized that this hadn’t been a chance meeting. He had something to say to her.
“Is there anything I can help you with, Marshal? Your wife, perhaps?”
Doffing his hat, he raked his fingers through his wavy brown hair. “I had a telegraph message about you. In fact, I might’ve had two.”
A chill ran the length of her spine. “I beg your pardon?”
“First one was definitely for you. It came about a week ago from that pastor who sent you out here to marry Caleb.”
“Reverend Hayes? Why on earth would he send a telegraph?”
“Got it written down back in my office, but the gist of it was that he was concerned about you. Wanted to know where you were stayin’ and whether you’d gone ahead with the weddin’.”
“That makes no sense, Marshal. I sent him a long letter explaining exactly what happened with Caleb and that I was planning on settling here with Drew and Gideon. There is no reason he should be asking such questions.”
“Maybe he didn’t get the letter?”
Kayla frowned. Although that was the best explanation, she couldn’t help but wonder why the good reverend was sending the message now. She’d been in White Pines for many months. If he hadn’t received her letter, he would have reached out to her well before now.
“You said there were two messages,” she reminded him. “If the first was from Reverend Hayes, from whom did the second come?”
“That one came from a Pinkerton detective. Said he was looking for you—at least I think he was lookin’ for you, ’cause I don’t know any other lady who settled in White Pines last year. Could be the telegraph receiver took the message wrong. The detective asked for Carolyn Burton, not Kayla Backer. Could he mean you?”
Her heart began to pound at hearing her true name, the one she’d left behind in Chicago. And that name was being used by a Pinkerton, a man who’d obviously been hired to track her down like a common thief.
Which can only mean…
Gregory’s mother was searching for her.
Again.
Kayla had fled New York City to escape Chantal Carrington’s wrath. But that hadn’t been enough. Kayla had barely made a home with her aunt and uncle in Chicago when Chantal’s minions were hot on her trail, sending her running to St. Louis with a new identity. Had the good reverend not helped her flee, she would have lost her life to the vengeful heiress.
It was now clear that Chantal wouldn’t stop until Kayla was dead. And all because her son had fallen in love with a woman Chantal believed was far below the Carringtons’ elite station in life.
“Miss Kayla? You all right?”
She squared her shoulders and tried to muster up some bravado. “I am perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Went kinda pale there for a moment.”
It was vital that Matthew send a message back to the Pinkerton detective that discouraged any more inquiries into where she was. “I assure you, I am quite hale, Marshal. But I do have to disappoint you. I am afraid I do not know anyone named Carolyn Burton. You shall have to tell that poor detective that he is searching in the wrong place.”
“I was hoping that message was meant for you, but that was only wishful thinkin’.”
“It definitely was not for me.” She had to calm the panic she heard rising in her own voice so that man wouldn’t grow suspicious.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Matthew said.
“What’s nothing?” Drake said, startling her and causing her to jump.
Whirling, she put her hand to her chest, wondering if she’d ever calm her racing heart. “You nearly scared the life out of me.”
With a grin, he patted her shoulder. “Sorry ’bout that.” He inclined his head at Matthew. “What’s nothing, Matthew?”
The marshal kept shifting his gaze between the two of them as though unsure of whether to continue the discussion in front of Drake.
This wasn’t a subject she wanted to share with him. Ever. “Were you able to find the supplies you needed?” she asked.
A frown filled Drake’s face. “Don’t change the subject.”
Kayla tried to quit the topic and turned to Matthew. “Thank you for your assistance. We have quite a bit to do before going back to the farm, and I believe the gray skies are warning of more snow.”
Drake narrowed his eyes, and she was pretty sure she heard a low growl coming from him.
After putting his hat back on, Matthew tugged on the brim once more. “I’ll pass your best wishes on to my wife, Miss Kayla.” He looked to Drake. “Good to see you, Drake.” Then he walked away.
Hands on his hips, Drake stared at Kayla. “What was that all about?”
She tried to dismiss the question with a wave of her hand. “I still have a few things to get before I shall be ready to leave.”
“In other words, you ain’t tellin’ me.”
Drake wanted to grab her and shake her. For her to pretend that nothing was wrong was absurd. Her face was ghostly white, and her hands were trembling. Whatever Matthew had told Kayla had upset her a great deal.
Another frustrated growl slipped out before he squelched it. Trust was something earned, and in the time she’d known him, Drake had been nothing but a drunkard. Hopefully, time would mend that rift and she would feel better about sharing her life with him. “Let’s get the rest of what we need and head back. It started snowin’, and we need to be on our way.”
“I’m ready.” She followed him to the front of the store.
He waited while she haggled with the storekeeper over the price of some of the items, and he grew antsy, wanting to get back on the road. Finally, she counted out the money for the things she’d purchased, and Drake sent her to the wagon while he made two trips from the store to the wagon to carry out the supplies she’d bought.
Instead of crawling up into the seat to wait for him, Kayla stood at the rear of the wagon. “What is in this crate?” she asked.
“Beats me,” Drake replied, placing the rest of the supplies in the wagon bed. “Came addressed to you.”
“Where on earth did you find it?”
“Will Spencer from the Four Aces ran me down when I was loa
ding the wagon. Said it arrived for you ’bout a week ago. Drew sent it. Probably knew that shipping it to the farm wasn’t wise in this weather and that if he sent it to Will, he would find a way to get it to you.”
At least now she was smiling, something he much preferred to the fear he’d seen earlier. “May we open it?”
Drake shook his head. “Let’s get on the road before the snow piles too high.”
“But—”
Setting a hand on her shoulder, he smiled at her eagerness. “We’ll open it soon as we get home. Promise.”
Chapter Eleven
Drake had never seen Kayla so excited. As he struggled to open the wooden crate Drew had shipped to her via Will Spencer, Drake smiled at the enthusiastic way she clasped her hands and kept rocking on her feet.
He’d barely gotten the crate out of the wagon—a struggle because of the size of the damn thing—before she begged him to bring it inside and get it open. Had he not stressed that the horses needed attending, they’d probably still be hitched to the wagon and waiting in the cold. Normally, she insisted on the animals coming first. After the two of them made sure the horses were tucked away in their stalls, he picked up the pry bar and headed to the house with Kayla practically skipping by his side.
Once he’d lugged the crate inside, she’d cast her coat aside and tugged on his until he’d gotten it off and grabbed the pry bar.
“Hurry, Drake. I want to see what’s inside.”
With a chuckle, he pushed hard on pry bar until the nails finally gave up the fight and the side of the crate began to open. Soon, he was able to remove the lid and set it away, figuring he might be able to use the wood as kindling later.
As though unable to control herself, she resorted to the first unladylike action he’d ever seen from her. She bumped him hard with her hip to push him out of her way.
He laughed at her and gave in as she responded by digging through the curly wood shavings, sending them tumbling over the side of the small crate. Then she let out a joyous squeal as she clapped her hands. “Books!”
Peeking over her shoulder, Drake saw her tug a book out of the shavings and hold it to her chest. “That big crate and only one book?” he teased.
