The Heart's Pursuit

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Something about the set of his jaw told Silver she’d best not press him for more information.

  “It’s not too late to return to your parents’ home in Twin Springs, Miss Matlock.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not going back.”

  “We’re talking better than a thousand miles and more than a month on horseback. And that’s assuming all goes well on the journey. We may not even find the man you seek when we get to Nevada. This could be a wild-goose chase we’re on. He could be traveling by stage or train, something we can’t afford to do. At least my funds are limited. What about yours?”

  She thought of the locket beneath her blouse. They could sell it. What it brought, plus the emergency money her father had given her—when he’d thought she was bound for Denver—might be enough to secure train passage and cover the additional expenses they would surely incur. But what if they spent it all and still didn’t find Bob? Or what if they found him but the money and jewels were gone?

  “Well?” Jared prompted.

  “No, I don’t have the money for train fare, but if we have to go all the way to Nevada on horseback to find Bob, then so be it. I’m up to it if you are.”

  A faint, almost indiscernible guilt tugged at Jared’s conscience. He ignored it. There’d been a day when lying to a woman as he’d just lied to Silver Matlock would have been unthinkable. Those days were long past. Lies came easily to a man in his profession. Subterfuge was a way of life.

  It couldn’t bother him that she believed it was Bob Cassidy and Matt Carlton he had in his sights. What troubled him was that he was letting her continue on with him. It made no sense. Of course, he’d met Mrs. Matlock—a most disagreeable woman with a sharp tongue, the kind who gave stepmothers a bad reputation—before leaving Twin Springs, so he couldn’t blame Silver for not wanting to go home. But did she have to become his responsibility?

  He’d lost his mind. That was the only explanation for his inability to send her back. They had just enough supplies to see them through a couple of weeks, maybe a bit more if they were careful. If the weather stayed good and none of the horses broke down and their luck held in every way, he figured they could reach Virginia City by early July. Alone, Jared could ride farther and faster. With a woman tagging along? It would take him days, maybe even weeks longer. Extra time when he might lose all traces of the killer he sought.

  And yet he couldn’t make Silver go back to Twin Springs. He’d let her get under his skin. That hadn’t happened to him in years. Since leaving Fair Acres, he’d remained focused, determined, single-minded, his emotions always cool and controlled. Yet this young woman had managed to bypass his defenses with surprising ease.

  He toyed with the idea of first riding into Denver to check with Rick Cooper about the reward for Peterson. But that would be a waste of time. Nothing involving government entities was ever straightened out quickly. He’d be lucky if the reward awaited him when he returned from Nevada weeks or months from now.

  No, he wouldn’t take the extra time to go into Denver. He wouldn’t take the time to escort Silver home to Twin Springs. They would ride northeast until they were out of the mountains. From there they would head north into Wyoming, skirting the highest of the Rocky Mountains, then finally head west again.

  And Silver Matlock had better keep up.

  CHAPTER 10

  A relentless afternoon sun beat down on the travelers, the temperature much warmer than normal for May. Trickles of sweat ran along Silver’s back and the sides of her face. Her empty stomach seemed to have flattened itself against her spine. Would Jared ever stop to eat something? It seemed a lifetime since she’d had some food.

  Dust rose behind the packhorse’s hooves to stick to her damp skin. Her eyes stung and her nostrils felt clogged with dirt despite the bandanna she wore over her nose and mouth. Even swallowing was difficult; her throat was parched and in need of a long drink of water. But she wouldn’t complain. Not for anything in the world. She’d told the bounty hunter she could handle it if he could, and so she would.

  But at last, with deep shadows stretching toward the east, Jared slowed his mount from a trot to a walk and glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll stop at the stream ahead to water the horses. But I’d like to go another hour before we make camp for the night.”

  Relief and disappointment mingled in her chest as she acknowledged his words with a nod. She welcomed the chance to wash the dust from her face and from her throat and wished they could make camp in this spot as well.

  The trail sloped down a rocky hillside toward the creek. There was no need to guide the horses toward it; they were as thirsty as their riders. Silver gave Cinder her head as she leaned over and reached for the canteen.

  The ground below began to undulate. Wavy lines of white and black danced before her eyes. She straightened in the saddle, willing the weird sensation to go away, but it was too late. A moment later she pitched into a dark vortex that sucked her down . . . down . . . down . . .

  She was in Twin Springs, in the church, wearing her wedding gown. The sanctuary was filled with flowers, the pews decorated with white satin bows. But there were no guests to be seen, no pastor in his black robe standing near the altar. A sickening sensation swirled inside her, making her dizzy and frightened. The bows disappeared. The flowers were no longer there. It wasn’t her church after all. It felt more like a barn or a cavern. Dark and dangerous—

  “Miss Matlock?”

  The darkness suffocated her . . .

  “Miss Matlock, look at me.”

  It took great effort to obey the voice.

  “That’s it. Look at me. Keep your eyes open. That’s better.”

  Slowly she became aware of her surroundings and realized her right cheek rested against Jared’s chest. She felt the rhythm of his heart through his shirt, a comforting sound. Beyond him, a leafy aspen whispered in the breeze.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You fell off your horse. I think you fainted.”

  She swallowed. “Don’t be absurd. I’ve never fainted in my life.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” He chuckled.

  A strange feeling curled in her stomach. He appeared almost . . . handsome. Her eyes focused on his mustache, on his mouth, on the smile that curved his lips, and she couldn’t seem to look away.

  “Here. You’d better take a sip of water.” He braced her head as he held the canteen to her lips. “Not too much. Take small sips.”

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the water on her tongue and in her throat.

  “Want to try sitting up a little more?”

  She looked at him again and was surprised by what she found. His eyes weren’t hard and remote as she’d often thought them. She saw warmth, perhaps even a hint of kindness. And his smile was pleasant, inviting.

  “Okay, Miss Matlock.” His left arm tightened around her back, his hand gripping her shoulder as he drew her upright. “That’s better.”

  She liked the sound of his soft southern drawl. And the way he held her, almost tenderly—

  “Do you think you’re injured?” he asked. “You took quite a tumble.”

  Embarrassment rushed through her. “I . . . I’m quite all right, Mr. Newman. I was hot and hungry and . . .” She let her words drift into silence.

  His smile faded. He released his hold and stood. “I pushed you too hard. I knew better.” He turned, perusing their surroundings. Finally he pointed toward a copse of Gambel oak and mountain mahogany. “We’ll make camp over there. I’ll take care of the horses and get a fire going, and you can put on a pot of coffee.”

  Silver waited until he’d walked away before she got to her feet. The dizziness had passed, but she discovered a few bruised places—her left shoulder and hip especially—that she suspected would become more painful before tomorrow morning.

  Why, oh why, had she done something so stupid? Fainting! Falling off her horse! That was the sort of thing her stepsister would do,
but Silver wasn’t given to—what did they call it?—the vapors. Contrary to the common opinion of the day, she didn’t believe women were fundamentally weak or more susceptible to medical complaints than men. True, there were some things she wasn’t able to do because of her size and weight. But match her with a man of equal height and build, and she could hold her own.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  She brushed the dirt from her riding skirt and followed Jared to their campsite. It took her longer than she would have liked to locate the coffeepot, coffee beans, and brass grinder among the other supplies. After she did, she went to the nearby stream and filled the blue-speckled pot with water. A fire was blazing by the time she returned. Jared now tended to the horses.

  How many beans should she grind for a single pot? She’d watched her parents make coffee in the morning for most of her life, but she hadn’t paid attention to the process. She couldn’t ask Jared. Not after her fall from the saddle. He already thought her a nuisance. No, she would have to make her best guess and hope she was right.

  Silver knew slightly more about cooking than she did about preparing coffee. She returned to the supplies, retrieving a can of kidney beans and two pork steaks her father had packed in salt. The steaks went into the frying pan. She was smart enough to know there wouldn’t be many meals on the trail where they’d eat as well as this. Hardtack and jerky would be their fare more often than not. She supposed Jared was used to such limited choices.

  She supposed he was used to lots of things she couldn’t imagine. A shiver ran through her at the thought. It should have served as a warning to keep her distance, but instead it made her want to know him better. It made her want—

  “Is that coffee about ready?”

  She felt a blush warm her cheeks and was thankful for the failing light of day. “Yes, I think it is.” She set down the fork she’d used to turn the steaks in the frying pan and picked up a tin cup, filling it with the hot, black brew.

  Jared accepted it from her outstretched hand before settling onto a fallen log. He blew across the steaming coffee. “Smells good.” He motioned with his head toward the frying pan.

  “The steaks should be ready soon. The beans are hot by now.”

  He nodded. “We’ll get an early start in the morning, soon as the sun’s up.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  She turned the pork steaks again. “More foolish than hurt.”

  After blowing across the surface of his cup one more time, Jared took a long sip. Immediately his eyes widened and he began to cough. “What’s in this?” he asked when he caught his breath.

  “Coffee.”

  “Coffee? This would eat a hole clean through the leather of my saddle. How much did you put in there anyway?”

  How Silver longed to give him a piece of her mind. If he didn’t like her coffee, he could make his own. She hadn’t volunteered to be his cook. She was paying him. He should cook for her.

  She swallowed an angry retort, resolved not to make another mistake today. She wouldn’t let her temper make her more foolish in his eyes. Not even if he insulted her ten ways to Sunday.

  They ate their meal in silence, Jared on one side of the campfire and Silver on the other. The only sounds were the clink of utensils against tin plates, the crackle of the fire, and an occasional snort or stomp from one of the horses.

  Jared figured he should apologize. He knew he’d wounded her pride and made her angry. Although she tried to hide her feelings, they were written on her face. He wondered if she knew what a pretty face it was. Something in her manner told him she didn’t.

  What surprised him was that for all the trouble she’d caused him, he’d started to like Silver Matlock. She had gumption. Even when she was afraid or unsure, she tried her best. She gave her all. He admired that in any person. In addition, Silver hadn’t once tried to use feminine charms to get her way. Maybe she didn’t know she had any. He wasn’t going to be the one to point them out to her.

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry I insulted your coffee.”

  It was a while before she lifted her eyes to meet his. “You were right. It is terrible.” She drew in a breath and let it out on a sigh. “I should have asked for help since I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m not very good at that.”

  “At what? Asking for help?”

  She nodded.

  They resumed eating. When they were finished, the two of them, by unspoken accord, carried their dishes and cookware to the stream and washed them. Rising from the creek’s edge, Silver emitted a groan.

  “Some liniment might help with those sore muscles,” Jared offered.

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “Not very good at asking for help. Isn’t that what you said?”

  After a brief hesitation, she laughed, a pleasant sound. “That’s what I said.”

  “We all have them. Failings, I mean.”

  “So we do.” She started walking toward the fire. “But I seem to have more than my share. God must grow quite weary trying to fix me.”

  He was tempted to follow her, to keep the conversation going. Which surprised him a second time. Years on the trail had made him comfortable with his own thoughts for company. He’d become used to the silence on a starlit night, just him and his horses. But before he could join her near the campfire, it occurred to him that she would probably like some privacy as she prepared to bed down for the night. Better to let her be. Better for them both.

  “Miss Matlock, I’m going to check on the horses, then take a short walk. I’ll be back in about ten minutes or so.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Newman.”

  By the time he returned to the campsite, Silver lay beneath the blankets of her bedroll, her arms folded beneath her head as she stared at the night sky. The fire had died down, hot coals casting a reddish glow for a few feet in all directions.

  Jared unbuckled his gun belt and placed a weapon within easy reach of his bedroll. Then he dropped to the ground and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. Like Silver, he stared at the sky. New leaves rustled in the nearby trees, and in the distance a coyote’s mournful cry drifted to them on the night breeze. One of the horses nickered, another snorted. Familiar sights and sounds. No signs of danger.

  “I didn’t love Bob,” Silver said softly, regret in her words. “That’s another of my many faults. Rushing headlong into disasters of my own making. But I thought what I felt for him was enough for us to have a good marriage. I truly believed that. And I made myself believe that he loved me. At the least, I believed he was serious when he asked me to marry him. I never thought he would break his word.”

  An odd feeling stirred in Jared’s chest, an emotion he couldn’t describe. But he could recognize the sense of guilt that nagged at him. Guilt because he no longer sought the groom who’d abandoned her in the church. He was after another man, a man with a distinctive scar. If they should happen upon Silver’s former fiancé in the process, then all the better, but Bob was no longer Jared’s priority.

  Her last words were barely audible. “I was such a fool to think he could love me.”

  Jared wasn’t sure, but he thought what he heard next might be a muffled sob, the sound almost hidden by the coyote’s late-night wail.

  CHAPTER 11

  Silver awakened to the sound of bacon sizzling in the skillet. She sat up, pushing her tangled hair from her face.

  “Morning,” Jared said.

  The sky was pewter in color, the air crisp and cold. It seemed a much better idea to stay snuggled beneath her blankets until the sun was full up and had a chance to warm the earth.

  “Better get moving, Miss Matlock. We’ll want to be on our way as soon as we eat. The weather’s good, and we should be able to cover a lot of ground before nightfall.”

  Silver rose from her bedroll and stumbled off in the general direction of the stream. Perhaps she would feel human again once she’d splashed water on her face. Then again, she doubt
ed it. Her body ached from head to toe—from yesterday’s long hours in the saddle or from her tumble from the saddle or from last night’s bed on the hard, uneven ground. More likely from all three.

  She knelt beside the brook. Oh, how she wished she could take a real bath. Her stepmother’s pride and joy in the Matlock home was a separate bathing room, and Silver had made good use of it in recent years. She loved soaking in hot water, steam swirling around her face, oftentimes reading a book until the water grew too cool to remain in the tub. Now she would gladly settle for a pan of warm water and a door to close behind her. She would get neither.

  “Food’s about ready, Miss Matlock.”

  Silver unbuttoned the neck of her blouse and rolled up her sleeves. Scooping icy water into her hands, she washed her neck, arms, and face. Next she loosened what hair remained in a braid, brushed it, and braided it once again.

  “Your breakfast’s getting cold.”

  Once again, she swallowed the retort that came so quickly to mind. “I’ll only be a few minutes more.” She moved toward some trees and high brush, seeking more privacy.

  “Be careful you don’t startle any rattlers.”

  Rattlesnakes? Why did he have to put that thought into her head? She hated snakes, poisonous and otherwise. A shudder passed through her as she fastened her gaze on the ground, moving with much more care than she had before.

  When she returned to the campsite a short while later, she found her breakfast waiting on a plate near the fire. The frying pan had been washed, and Jared was putting it back in its place on the packhorse. Sensing his impatience, she sat down and made short shrift of the bacon and biscuits, washing the food down with coffee that had grown cool in the tin cup—but which still tasted better than the brew she’d made the previous night.

  Jared returned to the campfire. “Ready?”

  She nodded as she swallowed the last bite on her plate.

  He smothered the fire with sand and dirt, then poured the last of the coffee over the coals before stirring them with a stick, making sure the fire was completely extinguished. “Time we were out of here. I’d like to reach Laramie by Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest. That means we’ll have to keep pushing ourselves and the horses hard.”