“Glad to hear it. Stop following me, and stay out of my way.” He threw himself into the saddle with the agility she recognized from the night before. Without a backward glance, Grady Wolfe rode away hard, leaving Eliza alone.
“Fiddlesticks,” she whispered, suddenly more nervous than she’d been when she’d started following him.
As he saddled his horse with little to no noise in the predawn light, Grady’s thoughts pestered him like gnats buzzing around his ears. Yes, he was leaving behind the blasted female, and he had to stop thinking about her. Truth be told, he was impressed by her bravado but disgusted by his inability to shake her off his tail the night before.
He’d never met a woman like Eliza, if that was even really her name. She talked like a professor, rode around with twenty pounds of books, and could build a campfire like nobody’s business. Yet she was as innocent as a child, had a sad story about a dead husband he didn’t believe for a second, and seemed to be waiting for him to invite her along for his hunt.
He snorted at the thought. Grady worked alone, always and for good. There sure as hell was no room for anyone, much less a woman like Eliza. As he led the horse away, he refused to look back at the campsite. At the still sleeping woman he’d stared at most of the night. She confused him, and that was far more dangerous than an armed enemy. Grady needed his wits about him.
He should have felt guilty, but he’d left that emotion behind, along with most every other, a long time ago. Grady had a job to complete, and that was all that mattered to him. The only thing he was concerned about was finding the two wayward wives he’d been hired to hunt and fulfilling the contract he accepted. He was supposed to kill both of them but he’d never killed a female before, much less two. Thoughts of that particular task were shoved aside. He had to keep reminding himself it was a job. Just a job.
Grady had learned as a young man just how much he couldn’t trust the fairer sex. His mother had been his teacher, and he’d been a very astute pupil. No doubt if she hadn’t drunk herself to death, she’d still be out there somewhere taking advantage of and using men as she saw fit.
Within a few hours, the cool morning air gave way to warm sunshine. He refused to think about what the schoolmarm was doing, or if anything had been done to her. If she could take care of her horse and build a fire, she could take care of herself. Food could be gotten at any small town, but then again, maybe, she could hunt and fish too.
Somehow it wouldn’t surprise him if she could. The woman seemed to have a library in her head. Against his will, the sight of her unbound black hair popped into his head. It had been long, past her waist, and brushed against her nicely curved backside. Grady preferred his women with some meat on her bones; curves were better to hang onto when he had a woman beneath him or when one rode him. He shifted in the saddle as his dick woke up at the thought of Eliza’s dark curtain of hair brushing his bare skin.
Jesus Christ, he sure didn’t need to think about fucking the wayward Miss Eliza. If she was a widow, no doubt she’d had experience in bed with a man. It wasn’t Grady’s business of course, so he needed to stop his brain from getting into her bloomers, or any parts of her anatomy.
As the morning wore on, Grady’s mind returned to the contents of her bags. The woman didn’t have a lick of common sense and had fallen asleep, vulnerable and unprotected. Good thing he didn’t have any bad thoughts on his mind, or she wouldn’t have been sleeping. She even snored a little, something he found highly amusing as he’d rifled through her things.
Her smaller bag had contained a hodgepodge of clothes, each uglier and frumpier than the last, a hairbrush, half a dozen biscuits in a tattered napkin and some hairpins. A measly collection of a woman’s life, and quite pitiful if that was all she had. Perhaps she’d been at least partially truthful about taking everything she owned and hitting the trail. Her husband must have been a poor excuse for a provider if Eliza’s collection of rags was all she had.
The bag of books was just that, a bag stuffed full of scientific texts ranging from medical topics to some titles he couldn’t even pronounce. In the bottom of the bag was a battered copy of Wuthering Heights. He didn’t know what it was about, but it was much smaller than the other books, likely a novel. She obviously put the spectacles to good use judging by the two dozen tomes she had in her bag. He wondered how she’d gotten it up on her saddle in the first place.
“Fool.” He had to stop thinking about Eliza and what she was doing and why. Grady would never see her again.
Grady knew not to ask questions because they complicated situations. He preferred the no-nonsense approach of the straight truth. Or he simply nosed around to find out what he needed to know.
His stealthy skills served him well and had garnered the attention of the man who’d taught him how to hunt and kill people in the quickest, most efficient way. Grady had learned his lesson well, even better than his mentor had expected. When the job was put before him to hunt and kill the man who had taught him those very skills, Grady had hesitated only a moment before he’d said yes.
The devil rode on his back, a constant companion he’d come to accept. He didn’t need a woman riding there, too.
Eliza spent half an hour trying to get her horse saddled, and by then she was sweating and angry—at herself and at Grady Wolfe. He’d crept off like a thief in the night and had left her behind, the lousy sneak.
She’d been sleeping as if nothing could hurt her, feeling somehow safe in Grady’s company, although she’d been sure she was anything but safe. He’d left her to her own devices, likely hours before she’d woken. Maybe even after she’d fallen asleep so to give himself a head start.
Eliza spent the time to perform morning ablutions in the creek so at least the sweat was off her body before she perspired again on the back of the horse. It didn’t matter though, she needed to get clean if only to feel normal.
After filling her canteen, she was returning from the creek when she saw the snake. Eliza’s breath caught in her throat, and she froze, eye to eye with the serpent. It was light brown with a darker pattern on its back, and its head was diamond-shaped. She would never be more grateful to have read about snakes in Utah and knew the shape of its head meant the snake was poisonous.
Of course, that meant it could kill her with one strike of its fangs. Fresh sweat rolled down her face as she stood as still as a tree a mere twenty feet from her horse. The snake slithered toward her, its tongue slipping in and out of its mouth. As it slid between her feet, Eliza closed her eyes and pictured Angeline. Her sister was all that mattered, and she had to be strong to help her. If Grady found her before Eliza caught up with him, there was no hope for either one of them.
A soft breeze caressed her face, almost like someone had cupped her cheek as if she were a child. Her eyes popped open expecting someone to be standing in front of her, but there was no one there. She glanced down and realized the snake was gone.
Her breath came out in a gust, and she trembled like the leaves on the small tree in front of her. She took a moment to make sure the snake wouldn’t return and that her legs would actually work when she walked. The last thing she needed was to fall and injure herself while she was out in the world on her own.
Eliza made it to the horse and leaned into his neck. “I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you’re here Cab.”
With equine understanding, he allowed her to hang onto him for a few minutes before he shook his mane. She took the hint and patted him. “Thank you, boy.”
Eliza hadn’t spent much time outdoors, but she had read many books, which she was happy to say prepared her to make a campfire. Perhaps it would help her to track Grady too. There had been information about tracking animals, which should also work for a human animal.
She looked around until she found the tracks from the horse Grady rode in and around camp. The back right shoe had a nick in it so she could easily see the direction he’d rode, which would keep her on the right trail.
&nb
sp; Grady had no idea how powerful books could be, but Eliza did. She had brought ones to help her, both with her adventure and with her courage. Ephraim’s books were so important to her, she couldn’t imagine being able to do this alone without his guidance in her memory.
Eliza took hold of Cab’s reins and led him over to a rock so she could mount without making a complete ass of herself. As she slid up into the saddle, her behind and thighs groaned in protest. After the long ride the night before, there wasn’t a place on her that didn’t hurt. However, none of it mattered. She had to catch up to Grady.
She had to find Angeline.
The memory of waking up to an empty camp site made her anger rear its head. He’d left like a coward without saying goodbye or good riddance. Of course he had no reason to, but common courtesy was expected, even from a bounty hunter like Grady Wolfe.
Eliza didn’t care how she did it, but she was going to catch up to him and teach him a thing or two about the power of women. She gritted her teeth and started off west, following the horseshoe prints.
The sun was high in the sky before Eliza stopped to eat. Food didn’t seem important, but her stomach was yowling like a beast and had actually become quite painful. She knew it was partly due to anxiety, but if she got herself sick because she didn’t eat, she wouldn’t be good for anything or anyone.
Every half an hour, she checked to be sure she could still see the horseshoe track with the nick. He was consistent in his riding skills judging by the horse’s stride. Grady was obviously a man used to being on the back of a horse.
Eliza’s backend had long since gone numb, along with everything else below the waist. She had no idea just how physical riding a horse actually was—no book talked about just how hard the saddle was either. Of course, the saddle she rode was meant for a man, and likely thirty years old, if it was a day.
It made her sad to realized just how much she didn’t know. Books had taught her so much, as had Ephraim, but the real world was full of lessons she still had yet to learn. Some of those lessons were difficult, and she had a feeling they were only going to get harder.
The biscuits she’d put in her bag were barely enough to keep her going. In addition to being sore and tired, Eliza was hungry enough to eat one of her books. At least she had fresh water, that was a blessing, even if the biscuits barely fulfilled a smidgen of her appetite.
Eliza had read a book about hunting and using snares, yet she shuddered to think about the actual skinning and preparing a rabbit for cooking. That particular volume had not been put in her bag for that reason. Now she regretted not bringing it, considering how hungry she was. No wonder people hunted for food, regardless of the blood and violence of it.
Eliza knew they lived in an insular society with the LDS church and the ward that surrounded them. Ephraim had been her neighbor and friend, a non-LDS resident who had lived in a small cabin on the outskirts of town. She’d met him quite by accident when she’d been out looking for raspberries one spring seven years ago. Angeline had stayed at the house because she’d been feeling poorly.
Of course, if her father had known Eliza had gone out on her own, he would have tanned her hide. Ephraim, however, had saved her life that day. She’d been picking berries she thought were the raspberries common to the woods behind their house. Yet they’d been poisonous, and Ephraim had stopped her before she’d finished chewing the first bite.
With a patience Eliza had never known in an adult male, Ephraim, white-haired even then, taught her the difference between the berries. Then he taught her about what she could eat in the forest, what was dangerous, and what she could use every day for things like cleaning and curing headaches.
He had been an amazing font of information, and she’d visited as much as possible. His books became precious to her as he taught her about science, inventions, and the world around her.
Her father never knew of Ephraim’s teachings and for that lone fact, Eliza was grateful she could lie. It wasn’t a skill she had used in her life until she’d realized Silas Hunter would never let his daughters be exposed to anyone who did not believe what he did. The LDS church had no room for non-believers, and as a prominent man in their ward, her father had a reputation to uphold.
Eliza had no such qualms. At nearly twenty-one years old, she had long since given up on God and the LDS teachings. Science and all its glory had shown her the true meaning of what surrounded her. She’d always questioned the entire concept of faith but had kept quiet for fear of embarrassment and ostracism.
She’d been right in doing so because once she became a scientist in truth, and began doing experiments and building inventions with Ephraim, she would have been expelled from her family and her life if she had been discovered. As it was, Silas had found her doing experiments, or constructing inventions, on six occasions. He’d been beyond furious, forbidding her from performing the devil’s work, destroying her work and beating her until she’d been bedridden for days afterwards. Eliza remembered each and every blow with vivid clarity.
Angeline was the only one who accepted her as a whole person, never judging Eliza or condemning her for beliefs she didn’t share. Eliza’s younger sister was the angel her name implied. She was sweet, obedient, and seventeen years old, and she was out there in the world with only another woman for company.
Eliza had to find Angeline before anything happened to her. She’d disappeared nearly two weeks earlier along with Lettie Brown, the second wife to Josiah, Angeline being her new husband’s wife number three. Eliza might have believed Josiah had murdered both of them if it weren’t for a conversation she overheard in her own house.
Josiah had hired a man, Grady Wolfe, to hunt down the two women. Eliza knew then she had to find Angeline before Grady did, or her sister would have to return to the life she had run from. Knowing how Angeline followed the LDS teachings and how obedient she’d been all her life, something horrific had to have happened. Eliza knew some of what had happened in the Browns’ house, how Josiah had beaten his wives, and she could only wonder what truly horrible thing he’d done to send the two women out into the world alone.
Eliza had never been so frightened in her life. Angeline was her baby sister; she’d practically raised her from the time they were girls and their mother passed away. Eliza had always thought it was due to unhappiness with her life, since Margaret Hunter had been a convert to LDS, never quite fitting into the community. Her girls had been her life, and her death had deepened the bond between the two girls.
There wasn’t anything Eliza wouldn’t do for Angeline, including setting out on a dangerous adventure she had never imagined herself doing. Now here she was alone in the middle of nowhere, riding a horse and chasing a bounty hunter.
If it weren’t true, Eliza might have thought she was reading about her adventure in a book. That thought made a chuckle burst from her dry throat. In another hour, she might start talking to herself, and that would be not only embarrassing but worrisome. She needed to stay sharp and alert. Grady Wolfe was a smart man.
Exceptionally smart.
The moon had long since been hanging in the dark velvet sky when Eliza slid off Cab. The horse shook its head as if it was as exhausted and shaky as she was. The small campfire fifty yards ahead had to be Grady. It had to be.
If it wasn’t him, she might lose whatever grip she had on consciousness and fall to the scrubby ground in a faint. Dramatic, but sadly true. Eliza wasn’t generally given to histrionics or frailty, but she had to accept she’d reached her limit and desperately required relief.
She secured the horse to a low branch on a tree then took off her shoes to creep up on the fire. Grady might be asleep or simply waiting for her to get close enough to slit her throat with that enormous knife of his. Her breath came out in white puffs in the frigid night air. The weather seemed colder than the night before, but more than likely it was due to her complete exhaustion.
Eliza almost wept when she recognized his horse. She could hardly believe
it, but she’d successfully tracked a professional tracker. Ephraim would have been proud of her.
She was proud of herself.
As she approached the small fire, nearly embers, it popped and snapped, sending Eliza’s heart into a gallop. She stopped in her tracks and waited, but the still figure on the other side of the blaze didn’t move. He lay on his side with his bedroll tucked around him, snug as a bug in a rug. Eliza debated what to do before she turned around and returned to Cab to unsaddle him.
She whispered an apology to the old but steadfast horse before she gave him a quick rubdown with his blanket and made sure he could reach the sweet, cool grass nearby. Eliza felt the sting of tears as she retrieved her own blanket and ignored the sheer agony in her legs.
The tiny fire called to her, offering sleep and warmth. Eliza followed the lure of the fire, knowing the man who slept beside it would likely be quite angry with her when he woke. Angry was probably a mild word, but that was the least of her concerns. Right then, she felt as though she’d become a singular being with simple needs of heat, sleep, and food.
Eliza stumbled, nearly falling on her head as she reached the edge of Grady’s camp. After righting herself, she stepped around to where he lay on the ground. She put her blanket down on the ground next to him, and then got to her knees and crawled in beside his big, warm body.
For the second time that day, tears pricked her eyes as she lay down and felt the heat from the fire on her front, and Grady’s warmth behind her. She was instantly asleep.
Chapter Three
‡
Grady woke slowly in the gray pre-dawn light. He hadn’t slept well because he’d dreamed of Eliza. In his dream, she’d been in his arms, pliant and soft. He woke up with a dick harder than an oak tree, pulsing and growling with need. Grady reached out and found he hadn’t been dreaming after all—there was a woman in his bedroll.
Ruthless Heart Page 3