Though he took only minutes, by the time he returned darkness had settled over the land. The half-moon and its cloak of stars lit his way well enough that the underbrush didn’t trip him up overly much. The acrid scent of smoke led him back to camp as surely as a well-lit trail would have. He’d have to extinguish the fire as soon as their meal was complete. Couldn’t have it leading anyone else to them. Common sense had tried to convince him not to start it in the first place. But Cat had become increasingly nervous over the last few days and he knew both the false security of the fire and, more importantly, a warm meal, would make her feel better. One could only take so much hardtack and dried meat.
Truth be told, though he would only admit it to himself, his common sense was becoming less common when it came to this woman. Such an effect puzzled him. Not even his prior bride-to-be had possessed such power over him. True, it had been a proposal based on a good match socially and with both their families in mind. Still, he had been quite fond of the woman and suitably attracted to her. How was this so different? Grumbling beneath his breath, he shook his head and forced his mind back to what was important.
A few more steps and yellow firelight revealed the outline of Cat and Lincoln huddled together near the fire. The light danced across waves of her long red hair that fell like a waterfall of fire down her shoulders to tease her cleavage. He hadn’t seen her let it down in days. Shorter curls framed a lovely face fixed in an anxious look. While one arm was wrapped tight around the pup, the other hung at her side near her firearm, hand sitting on the hilt. Seeing her look so vulnerable was highly unusual. An almost overpowering urge to protect her swept over him. So much for concentrating on what was important.
“Are you all right? Did something happen?” he asked.
Head popping up from where it had been resting on Catriona’s knee, Lincoln emitted a soft puppy bark. He nodded to the pup, who then wriggled out of Cat’s grasp to trot to his side.
“We’re fine. It just took you longer than I expected and I began to grow concerned,” Cat said.
Careful not to spill any more of the water than he already had, he carried the pot to the fire, eyes widening at the sight that awaited him. Large rocks surrounded two sides of the fire, a flat rock balanced over the two at the corner. Red coals glowed beneath it. The wet bottom of the cast iron pot sizzled when he sat it on the rock.
“Where on earth did you learn to do this?” he whispered.
She made a harrumphing sound. “Not all high society ladies are as useless as you assume.”
Much as he hated to admit it, she had him there. “Fair enough. Truly, I’m impressed.”
She rewarded him with a smug smile that told him he had accomplished his goal of distracting her from whatever had frightened her. He tried to tell himself that he only cared because clients were easier to deal with when calm. But the fire that roared to life in his blood when her blue eyes fell on him begged to differ. He did his best to squelch the sensation—he refused to call it a feeling because that touched too close to things he didn’t want to consider. While waiting for the soup to cook, he teased her about her choice and placement of rocks. In good humor, she dished out as much as she took, teasing him endlessly in turn.
After enjoying a meal in which her etiquette was refreshingly relaxed, he stretched out onto his bedroll and tried not to watch her from across the fire.
A bit of snorting pulled his attention back to the fire where Lincoln stared hard at a stick in the pile.
“No, leave it,” Rick commanded.
Something caught between a groan and a whine issued from the pup as he scooted back a step. Though his head remained pointed in Rick’s direction, his big eyes strayed back to the branches slowly being consumed by the orange flames. A warm breeze carried the sound of a distant yip. Lincoln’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and his ears stood up as straight as they could. His body tensed in preparation.
“Lincoln, stay,” Rick commanded.
The pup whined and glanced his way. “Stay,” he reiterated with a bit more force.
More yips echoed on the breeze, at least a half dozen.
“What is that?” Cat whispered, her tone tight.
She sat up from where she’d been lounging across the fire from him, looking almost as ready to run as Lincoln did. Those lovely lips of hers had drawn tight and the whites of her moist, wide eyes caught the firelight.
“’Tis only coyotes,” he said.
“Are you sure ’tis not wolves?” she asked, voice so low he could scarcely hear it over the crackling of the fire.
The urge to lead her on and tease her surged within, but the way she trembled ever so slightly took the playfulness right out of him. “Aye, no worries,” he said instead, surprising himself.
Her eyes flicked to him. “Coyotes are harmless then?”
“Aye,” he lied with a shrug.
Some of the shine left her eyes and her shoulders slowly dropped.
Another small yip carried on the cool wind as if in protest. Almost in unison, Cat and Lincoln’s eyes widened and shot in the direction of the sound. To her credit, Cat looked completely at ease as she patted the pup on the head and murmured words of comfort to him. Rick let out a long breath, relaxed back against his bedroll, and kicked his feet up on a branch.
The night suddenly exploded with dozens upon dozens of yips that drew into ululating howls. A whimper escaped Cat as she sat bolt upright, arms clutching Lincoln so tight Rick wasn’t sure if the pup’s eyes were bulging or just wide with fright. The horses stomped and one of them snorted. Lincoln squirmed like a fish ashore until he had loosed himself from her grasp. His eyes locked onto a spot in the darkness and his muscles bunched in preparation to launch himself.
“Lincoln, no!” Rick commanded.
The pup’s head snapped in his direction, then he froze.
“Come,” Rick said as he patted his leg.
Like a shot of gray and brown fur, Lincoln was suddenly at his side, pressing against him, big eyes beseeching. “’Tis all right, boy, but you’d best not leave camp,” he told him in soothing tones as he pulled a rope out of his pack.
Moving quick before Lincoln could spook again, he fastened one end of the rope about the pup’s neck, and the other to his saddle horn.
“I thought you said they were harmless!” Cat’s voice rose several octaves on the last word.
Well over a dozen different canine voices serenaded the moon. From the sound of it, they were on the hunt. He wasn’t about to tell Cat that. One of the horses snorted again, a tail swished, but otherwise they seemed unconcerned.
“For the most part, they are. But they love to draw out dogs and either steal them or…” He let his voice trail off.
Lincoln whined and lay down at Rick’s side as if he understood the words. Stretching out on his blanket, he stroked the pup’s head until he began to relax.
Cat’s wide eyes flicked from Lincoln to the horses. “What about the horses?”
“They wouldn’t risk it. For one, the horses are too big. Two, they aren’t afraid of canines and will fight, making them very undesirable prey.”
With a nod, Cat leaned back against her own saddle, one arm draped up over the horn in a bad attempt to look casual. “And are we undesirable prey?”
“You’re safe enough between the horses and the fire,” he said.
The fear that shone in her wide eyes told him he had gone just far enough to keep her safely within the camp for the night. Then he noticed her shaking ever so slightly. At first he had thought it was a trick of the firelight. But when she tried three times to brush back a lock of hair, missing due to her shaking, he realized he had gone too far.
“No worries, they’re miles away,” he assured her.
Pink lips pulling into a tight smile, she gave him the most unconvincing nod he had seen. Clearly empty words of c
omfort and a disarming smile would not do the trick here. He dug into his pack until his hand closed around a small, cool metal object. It couldn’t hurt. By his calculations they had to be at least two days ahead of Ainsworth’s man and he hadn’t seen any signs of other travelers nearby. The risk was worth it if he could smooth that look of fear from her lovely features. For the sake of a calmer traveling companion that wouldn’t keep him awake with worry, of course.
The cool touch of metal against his lips relaxed him and took him back to things he wanted to both desperately remember and desperately forget. With a gentle puff of breath he sent a few notes vibrating through the harmonica. Lincoln’s head lifted and his ears popped up. Even Catriona perked up, her shocked expression looking more comical than the pup’s. He paused to give her time to react, hiding his smile behind his harmonica.
She cleared her throat and blinked a few times before speaking. “So that’s what those things sound like.” The uncertainty in her voice left him wondering, but she went on before he could respond. “Quite…American.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Aye, ’tis at that. I don’t have to play, but it may help distract the pup.” Falling purposefully silent, he waited.
Another series of sharp yips caused her eyes to shoot off into the dark. “Well, if it helps Lincoln, I suppose it will be tolerable,” she said.
The badly faked bravado in her voice brought a smile to his lips so large he couldn’t have hidden it if he tried. After another yip made her jump, he brought the harmonica back to his lips and began to play. The mournful sound of a slow tune he had learned from a freed slave in the war filled the night. Sad as it was, it was a song he had always liked. The way Catriona’s lovely brow smoothed out and she relaxed back against her saddle told him it soothed her as much as it did him. That he had teased her into such a state stirred a bit of guilt in him. But he couldn’t help it. The woman rankled him in a way no woman had for some time, and he hated it. Still, it wasn’t her fault he mistrusted those of her station so much.
By the end of the song, Lincoln yawned and lay down with his head on Rick’s leg. He started another song, one she might recognize. Her delicate red brows lifted.
“Scarborough Fair,” she said between notes.
He lowered the harmonica. “Or the Elfin Knight, as me da called it,” he said.
When she nodded with an approving look, he played on. Soon she hummed along. By the chorus she was singing softly. The sound of her voice both moved and soothed him in a way nothing had been able to do since the war. He closed his eyes as he played and listened to her sing. At the end of the song he paused.
“You have a lovely voice,” he said.
In the firelight it was hard to tell, but he thought her cheeks might have reddened. Her head dropped and red locks of hair hid her expression. The peak of a high cheekbone through the red stirred his blood. Damn, but she was beautiful.
“I think you’ve been out here in the wild too long,” she teased.
“Not nearly long enough. But ’tis true. I’ve heard many a good singer and you outshine the lot,” he said.
When she didn’t respond, he lifted the harmonica back to his lips and continued to play. Catriona’s eyes watched him from across the fire for quite some time. They had softened considerably, the caution and fear draining from them with each note he played. An exhausted sleep soon stole over her. The peacefulness that smoothed out her features transformed her into a vision. Inspired, he played on long into the night.
Chapter 10
Day Six
After two days of near-silence from Rick, Catriona had endured as much of his surliness as she could. When he had played his harmonica she had thought maybe, in some small way, he might have done so for her. But now it had become painfully clear that his mistrust and dislike of her had not lessened in the slightest. The sight of a wagon and two men on horseback preparing to cross at the bank of the South Platte River came as a huge relief. Not only was she sick of the silence, but she had begun to think they were the only two people left on Earth. And that truly would have been disheartening.
Another wagon flanked by two more horsemen was already halfway across the river. The water splashing up from the horse’s hooves made her acutely aware of how hot the late afternoon sun had already grown. She’d been looking forward to this crossing for the last several miles. To her dismay, Rick reined his horse to a stop at the tree line. The pup stopped and sat near his horse’s front feet. Shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand, he scanned up and down the riverbank. While the shade of the trees offered a bit of relief, the water would be so much better. He held up a hand as if sensing she was about to urge her horse forward.
“They look harmless enough,” she whispered.
He turned one narrowed eye on her. “Looks can be deceiving, especially out here on the trail. We’ll wait,” he whispered back.
As if in a protest of his own, her painted horse stretched his neck out and lifted his nose to sniff the humid air. She held his reins tight when he tried to walk forward. It had been a long hot day and clearly he was just as eager for the cool water as she was. They waited in the shade, sweating and thirsty, while the second wagon and horsemen began to cross. A little over halfway across the wagon stopped. After much urging on the driver’s part, it became clear they were stuck. The horsemen dismounted and began to push. Despite having the look of strong-backed farmers to them, they couldn’t budge it. Two women climbed from the wagon and joined in the efforts. Their grunts and shouts of encouragement to the draft horses hitched to the wagon filled the quiet morning. The wheels rolled half a turn and stopped.
“Damn it all,” Rick muttered to himself as he urged his horse from the trees. He tugged his shirt free from his breeches to cover the butt of his pistol as he did so.
Surprised at his concern for the others, and more than a little pleased, Catriona followed.
“Hello there,” Rick called out in a friendly tone.
As the settlers looked their way he waved and smiled. She had been about to call out her own greeting but the complete transformation of his face from surly and pinched to helpful shocked her into silence. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was putting on a good front, or was truly concerned about the people.
“Looks like you could use a hand,” Rick went on.
Two of the men at the back of the wagon exchanged a look and took several steps in his direction. It was no accident that they placed themselves between them and the women. Sensing their tension, Catriona finally found her tongue.
“A few more hands might make the difference,” she offered in a tone that she hoped sounded as cheery as Rick’s had.
One of the men returned Rick’s smile and nodded. The other eyed them with suspicion as he held up a hand. Rick reined his horse to a stop at the water’s edge. Oblivious to the tension among the humans, Lincoln plunged into the water with abandon. The pup’s long legs kept his head above the water even when he approached the women who stood knee deep behind the wagon. One of them—a girl who couldn’t have been more than thirteen—giggled as he splashed about and tried to lick her hands.
“Well, I suppose we could use the help,” the man who hadn’t smiled admitted through his scruffy beard.
Rick rode his big buckskin horse right into the muddy water. The moment the creature stopped to drink, he swung from its back and plunged in, boots and all. Not to be outdone by her guide, Catriona followed suit. When her horse stopped beside Rick’s, she slid from its back the same as Rick had done. Cool water reaching almost mid-thigh shocked the breath right out of her and shot her eyes open wide. The day was hot, to be sure, but this water felt downright glacial. Skin began to tighten that she didn’t want Rick—let alone these strangers—noticing. The thin material of her light green blouse did little to hide the roundness of her breasts where they poked above her corset.
She swallowed her vanity an
d found a spot to place her hands against the wagon beside the youngest woman. No one would be looking at her breasts, least of all Rick, who was laying his shoulder against the wagon and preparing to push. All five of them found a spot as the bearded man began to count. On three they heaved and the wagon began to move. It rolled forward, but only so long as they continued to push. Several arduous steps later, the cool water began to feel refreshing. It soon reached her waist, but the pushing became easier at that point so she wasn’t about to complain.
The weight of Rick’s eyes drew her attention from the worn wood of the wagon to him. Respect blossomed within his startling greens, that and perhaps a touch of desire. To his credit, the man’s gaze had fixed on her face. Pink tinged his cheeks before he looked swiftly down and away, eyes catching on her breasts at last as he did so. She had expected many things of Corporal Rick Fergusson. Shyness had not been among them. She found it surprisingly appealing. He wore pink quite well. The remainder of the way across the river she tried to catch his gaze again in the hopes of rubbing it in a bit that she had caught him. But he didn’t look back at her.
Soon the water grew shallow. Due to the muddy river bottom that squished beneath their boots, they had to push until the wagon reached dry ground. The wagon began to roll back toward them. Rick suddenly shoved the young man beside him—who stood directly behind the left wheel—away and out of the path of the wagon. Renewing his efforts, he grunted and heaved with all his might. The wagon rolled forward with a lurch and suddenly pulled away from them, having overcome whatever obstacle had pushed it back.
Rick dashed to the young man sprawled on his back in the shallow water and offered him his hand. “Sorry, lad. I saw you slip and you were about to get your foot crushed.”
The young man nodded his head of unruly brown hair and took Rick’s hand. “I was, at that. Thank you so much, sir.”
Courting the Corporal Page 10