Love is Blind (Cutter's Creek Book 8)

by Kit Morgan

  She noticed they’d reached the main road. Mr. Judrow brought his horse to a stop and waited for her to come alongside him. “Which way do we go?” she asked.

  “The way I came.” He steered his horse left.

  She watched him and shuddered – she’d be going backwards. But she wasn’t traveling east to Connecticut. She’d probably never set foot on Eastern soil again. No, they were heading into Idaho and then Montana Territory, places even wilder than where she was now. “You don’t think we’ll run across any bears, do you?”

  “We might.”

  That wasn’t encouraging. “Might?” she said in alarm.

  “Sure. But they’re good eating.”

  “For who – us or the bear?” She shivered. “Wait – you’ve eaten bear?”

  “Certainly. It’s a lot like pork – you have to make sure and cook it well or it’ll make you sick.” He paused, then added, “I suppose I’ve eaten a lot of things a lady might find disagreeable.”

  She gulped. “How disagreeable?”

  He turned in the saddle to look at her. “It depends on how hungry you are.” He faced forward again. “Why don’t you ride beside me instead of behind? Then I won’t have to keep twisting around to talk with you.”

  She gave Pearl a little kick and trotted up alongside him. “Better?”

  He glanced at her. “Much.”

  Pearl automatically slowed to match his horse’s pace. Emma gave the horse her head and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more for Mr. Judrow to say something, now that she was next to him. She’d thought that was the point. Finally she sighed in exasperation.

  His eyes flicked to her, then back to the road. “What’s the matter?”

  “I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

  “No. Not at the moment, anyway.”

  She groaned. “Then why did you have me bring my horse next to yours?”

  “So when I do have something to say, I don’t have to turn around.”

  Another sigh. “What if I prefer to stay behind you?”

  “Rather discourteous of you, isn’t it?”

  “Not if you’re going to be silent. What’s the point?”

  “The point is, it’s easier to converse when we’re side-by-side,” he said matter-of-factly. At least he didn’t make her feel like she was a complete idiot.

  Still, she wanted to throttle him. “I think I prefer being back there.”

  “Very well. But don’t expect me to look at you if I need to tell you something.”

  “Fine!”

  His shoulders shook and he quickly stilled. He was laughing – silently, to himself, but laughing all the same!

  She stopped her horse and let him get ahead of her. This would be a long journey, and she began to wonder which of them would go mad first.

  By the fourth day, Emma decided it would likely be her. Not only was she tired and sore, but she was bored – Mr. Judrow had gone largely silent on her. Maybe it was just as well - as cranky and achy as she was, she was liable to say something extremely unladylike. Then the barbs would fly between them and someone would get hurt. Probably her.

  How he managed to always get the last word, she didn’t know. Moreover, why had she fancied him as some wonderful, mysterious, handsome stranger? She remembered thinking that being on the trail with him would be a grand adventure. Now, if she didn’t find something to do, see or talk about, she’d lose her mind. At least on her journey west, she’d had companions who were civil …

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

  Okay, so he was being civil. Minimally so. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Are we going to stop soon?”

  “Just up ahead there’s another stream. We’ll water the horses and eat.” He didn’t look at her.

  Of course, she was riding behind him again. He’d held to his threat from the first day, not turning around to speak to her. She swore she could count the hairs on the back of his head at this point, she’d been staring at it long enough. But if she rode beside him and they did start talking – civilly, of course – she feared she’d enjoy it more than she should. She’d liked their banter at the stage stop, even if it sometimes got heated. But he was fun, unconventional, not your normal gentleman – and that was part of his appeal.

  “Are there any cookies left?” he asked.

  She might as well live dangerously. Emma kicked Pearl and trotted up beside him. “A few, but they’re the last. Perhaps we should ration them?”

  “One for you and three for me?”

  “More like one for you and six for me.”

  He smiled but didn’t look at her. “I don’t like those numbers. Something will have to be done.”

  “I’m the one holding the cookies, Mr. Judrow.” Now he did look at her, then glanced toward his saddlebag. “I took them out of your bag before we left this morning and put them into mine,” she informed him with a grin. “For safekeeping.”

  His eyes flashed. “Isn’t right to steal a man’s cookies,” he growled.

  “But I did. In fact, I think I’ll hold them for ransom.”

  His head snapped around to her. “Ransom? You can’t ransom cookies.”

  This time she unleashed a devilish grin to match his own. “Watch me.” He was getting flustered, she could tell, and was starting to enjoy himself.

  Finally: “Once we stop,” he said menacingly, “the cookies are mine.”

  “My my – is that a threat?” she teased.

  “Don’t trifle with me.”

  “And what if I do?”

  He blew out an impatient breath. “Do what?”

  “Trifle.”

  “Then there’ll be … trouble.” He looked her in the eye. There was something there she couldn’t pinpoint, something she’d never seen before. If she had to guess she’d say it was… warm? No. Heated? Yes, that was it.

  Well, let’s throw another stick on the fire. “If you don’t give in to my demands, I’ll crumble your cookies.”

  He stopped his horse.

  Unfortunately for Emma, Pearl stopped too. The traitor. “What are you doing?” she asked in a rush as he dismounted.

  “Taking back what’s mine,” he growled.

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He grabbed Pearl’s reins to keep the horse steady and grinned up at her. “Watch me,” he said, mocking her. He reached for her saddlebags.

  Emma gave Pearl a kick and the horse lurched sideways, her head held in place as her rear pivoted. Still, now he couldn’t reach the saddlebags. “They’re mine, I tell you – all mine!” she squealed, then laughed.

  He still held the reins, but every time he reached for her saddlebag she gave Pearl a little kick to move the rest of her in another direction. “Stop that!” he ordered.

  “Never!” she laughed. “They’re mine!”

  “You won’t keep them from me!” he said with a smile. Aha! He was enjoying this. The knowledge only served to make her laugh harder – unfortunately, so hard that it was becoming hard to stay in the saddle.

  Mr. Judrow suddenly switched tactics, let go of Pearl’s reins and went straight for the saddlebags. Emma kicked the horse harder than she should, and Pearl leapt forward – without her! If Mr. Judrow hadn’t been next to the horse, she’d have hit the ground and hard.

  Instead she landed in his arms, one under her legs, the other supporting her back. They were both breathing hard, from the excitement and possibly more. “Thank you,” she gasped.

  He should put her down – she wasn’t hanging on to him at all – but he didn’t. “It wouldn’t do for you to twist your ankle again,” he replied. He looked at Pearl, who was trotting down the road, and whistled. The horse stopped, turned and trotted right back. He looked back to Emma. “We need to get going.”

  She swallowed hard. “What about the cookies?”

  He looked hungry, but she had the distinct feeling it had nothing to do with baked goods. “They’re still
mine.” With a wink, he grabbed Pearl’s reins and helped her mount the horse. He mounted his own and trotted down the road.

  Emma stared after him. Yes, this would be a very long journey.

  12

  Good grief, had he been flirting?! Lucius kicked his horse into a canter and went up the road a ways. He’d done it often enough over the last few days that Emma knew he was scouting ahead.

  Emma … now he was thinking of her by her Christian name. Somehow she’d gotten under his skin. Maybe because she wasn’t the type of woman to faint at the slightest thing. Maybe because she’d held her own on the journey and hadn’t complained. Or, maybe because she had such an unfettered spirit. And all that contributed to her beauty, both inside and out.

  But what had really done him in were the cookies. She still held them prisoner, and he was allowing it … for now. Of course, he could still take them from her if things got heated later – and they might. But that heat might not be of the teasing variety. At least not verbal teasing …

  … tarnation! The more time he spent with her, the more attracted he became. He had to get them back to Cutter’s Creek quickly, or … “Great Scott, no,” he muttered. “It can’t be.”

  But it was. He was definitely feeling something for her. Not good news.

  Lucius reined in his horse and stopped in the middle of the road. The further they went, the narrower it got. Soon it would be gone and they’d be traveling the wilderness with barely a trail to follow. It was the most dangerous part of their journey, the one he worried about the most. Would Emma be able to handle it?

  “Mr. Judrow?” she called behind him. She kicked her horse into a trot and headed his way. He usually whistled at her to join him, when he knew it was safe. He hadn’t yet. Fool woman – she should’ve waited for the signal.

  He watched her approach and had the sudden urge to kiss her. Now that would get her riled! He smiled just thinking about it.

  “What is it?” she asked as she approached.

  “You plan to hold those cookies prisoner all day?”

  She smiled back. “Maybe. I suppose it depends on how you behave later.”

  He pulled his hat further down on his head and chuckled. “I’m no schoolboy, Emma.”

  She straightened atop her horse and stared. “What did you call me?”

  “Your name. I can’t very well keep calling you ‘Miss Carlson,’ now can I?”

  “It’s been fine so far.”

  “True, but some folks might think it funny considering we’re married.”

  She glanced at their surroundings. “What folks? There’s no one around for miles.”

  “There are some cabins up the trail – trappers use them. I doubt they’re occupied now, but you never know.”

  “I see. Very well, then – call me Emma.”

  “You’d best start calling me Lucius so you can get used to doing it.”

  She nodded. “All right … Lucius.”

  He moved his horse closer to hers. “Say it again.”

  “What?”

  “Go ahead, say it.”

  She shrugged. “Lu-u-u-uciu-u-u-ussss,” she replied mockingly.

  “Not like that,” he said with a smile.

  She smirked. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid I won’t remember to call you by your first name?”

  His eyes darted to her mouth. “Something like that, yes.” He cleared his throat and turned his horse away.

  “I won’t forget.”

  He twisted his body around as his horse continued to walk away. “You’re sure of that?”

  “Yes, I am. I rather like the way it sounds.”

  He smiled. “Then let me hear it.”

  She watched him a moment. “Lucius. Rather like ‘luscious,’ but not quite the same.”

  “Mercy!” he said with a shake of his head. “The things that come out of that mouth of yours.” A mouth his eyes were fixating on, one he’d very much like to kiss.

  She laughed, and a shiver went up his spine. “Maybe I’ll call you ‘Luscious Lucius’.”

  He stiffened. “Don’t. Even. Think about it.”

  She froze as well for a moment or two, then said. “Considering all the sweets you eat, one would think you’d live up to the name.”

  Lucius took a deep breath. If he could get his hands on her he’d kiss her senseless. But that probably wasn’t such a good idea – it’d likely scare her to death. And maybe him too. If this kept up, he would have a hard time getting that annulment - and an easy time getting himself shot by her brother, blind or not. “We need to get moving.”

  She pouted. “Oh, very well.”

  His jaw shook. If she didn’t stop … Lord, give me strength! he thought to himself. He sucked in another deep lungful of air and kicked his horse into a trot.

  “Hey, wait for me!”

  Lucius didn’t stop. Instead he kicked his horse again.

  “Hey! What’s the hurry?”

  Other than getting away from himself? None at the moment. He slowed his horse to a trot and let her catch up.

  “Are we having a race?” she asked as she came alongside him.

  “No, I just thought I’d let my horse stretch his legs.”

  “Does your horse have a name?”

  “Sure does.”

  After a moment she asked the obvious. “Well, what is it?”

  He looked at her. “Horse.”

  “Your … your horse’s name is Horse?”

  “Yes.”

  “My, that’s rather…”

  “Practical?”

  “… boring.”

  “It works for me.”

  “I don’t mean to criticize, but that’s not very creative.”

  “Creativity has nothing to do with it. I live a hard life and my horse is a tool I use to live it.”

  “A tool?” she said in shock. She looked at Pearl’s head as the mare happily plodded along. “I can hardly look at sweet Pearl as a tool.”

  “Would you think the same if her name were Killer?”

  “That would only make me laugh. She’s as far from a ‘killer’ as one could get.”

  “You can’t get attached to an animal that doesn’t have a name.”

  She gaped at him again. “So you gave him the name ‘Horse’? Well, someone is certainly guarding their emotions.”

  More than you know, woman. “Practical,” he repeated.

  “So you’ve said, but I don’t think it’s so. I think you gave him that name because you’re afraid of getting overly attached and making a fool of yourself should something happen to him.”

  Now it was his turn to gape. “Are you always this outspoken?”

  “Only when I’m alone with a man in the middle of nowhere and no one else can hear me.”

  “I ought to turn you over my knee. What would Mrs. White say?”

  “That I’m right,” she said with a playful smirk.

  “Lord have mercy,” he muttered. He wanted to strangle her and kiss her at the same time. Her words and playfulness were sending him over the edge.

  “Ha! See, you have nothing to say – I’m right!”

  “Oh, for the love of Pete! Stop, just stop.”

  Emma started to giggle. “My, but you’re fun to rile up.”

  Good grief, she was using his own words against him! He stopped his horse, took a deep breath and faced her. “Emma, we have a long way to go. We’ll get to Cutter’s Creek quicker if you stop talking.”

  She giggled again. “How is my talking slowing us down? The horses seem to be walking perfectly fine, and at the same pace as before.”

  “Because I would hate to take the time to get off this horse, pull you off yours and… and …”

  “And what? Turn me over your knee?”

  Kiss you until you swoon, but he wasn’t about to say it aloud. However, the temptation to put his thoughts into action was overwhelming. “Just … keep quiet for a time.” He gave his horse a nudge.

  She sighed in disap
pointment. “You’re not very fun today.”

  “We need to start concentrating on where we’re going. We’ll run out of road by sunset.”

  She glanced at their surroundings. “I see.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s safe enough up ahead – just a lot rougher going,” he assured her. He hoped it was true. But presently the greatest danger she had to worry about was him.

  Just as Lucius said, the road dwindled away to a path no more than a few feet wide. The horses could traverse it well enough but single file. It made Emma nervous as they headed into rough terrain and a more heavily wooded area. Lucius had informed her that they’d entered Idaho Territory, and were almost halfway to Cutter’s Creek. She could hardly believe it at first.

  But yes, they’d left the Whites’ five days ago It seemed like much less – perhaps because yesterday and today had been more tolerable, what with all the bantering. She liked it, and he seemed to also. He’d smiled more in the last two days than she’d ever seen him do. She liked that he was enjoying her company. For some reason it made her want to get to know him better.

  “Where were you born?” she blurted on their sixth night on the road as Lucius poked at their campfire with a stick. They’d built their campfire near a fallen log, and both were sitting on it.

  “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

  “Kentucky,” he said. “I thought you knew that.”

  “How could I? I’ve never asked the question before.”

  She watched, pleased, as he smiled. “Maybe you’re right. That must’ve been Anson that asked.”

  “Anson would,” she said. “He’s the most curious of the White brothers.”

  “I’d have guessed Oscar.”

  She shook her head. “Oscar’s not curious, he’s suspicious. There’s a difference.”

  “True enough,” he said with a chuckle.

  He poked at the fire a few more times, then looked at the bedrolls they’d laid out. “It’s about time we got some shuteye.”

  “I suppose,” she said softly, gazing up at the sky. “My but the stars are beautiful.” She looked at him. “I bet you’ve seen plenty of star-filled skies.”