“I-I—”
“Look, you can pay me when we get back, Miz Bowcock. I’ve got a few dimes we can spend until then.”
“But I don’t haveanything!” Elizabeth protested. “No clothes! Nothing! I can’t go to St. Louis!” Not with you, she added silently.
“I’ll buy you whatever you need. We’ll just add the cost to what you already owe me,” he offered pleasantly. “How’s that for accommodating?”
She grated her teeth. “I don’t want a new dress!” she said, resisting the infantile urge to stomp her feet like a wayward child. The man enraged her beyond reason! “And I don’t want you to be accommodating! I just want to go home!” she told him firmly.
Apparently finished repairing saddle damages, he turned to her with a determined gleam in his eye. “Trouble is, Doc... Jo’s already wired St. Louis to say we’re on our way. They’ll be expecting us. We have to go.” He nodded toward his mount, his jaw set stubbornly. “Now, get on. Let’s cut some dust.”
He wasn’t going to take her home.
It took Elizabeth a full minute to recover from that shocking revelation. She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again.
“Jo?” she asked finally.
“That’s right. Where do you think you got that ring on your finger?”
At his declaration, Elizabeth glanced down at the simple silver band that now graced her left hand. Her shock was physical. Try as she might, she still couldn’t recall a single thing. Surely she wouldn’t have just up and married the man? She didn’t even know him, for mercy’s sake! She moaned, the sound anguished. “We’re not... we didn’t... good night!”
The look that passed over her face was anything but complimentary. She looked downright spooked by the thought of actually marrying him, and it struck a raw chord in Cutter. “Don’t go getting yourself all full of prunes, medicine woman. We’re not married, just playing at it,” he said curtly.
“Full of prunes? Oh! You! How dare you speak to me that way! You have no right!” She lifted her chin, meeting his hard gaze straight on. “If—if you won’t take me home, I’ll—I’ll simply walk! The good Lord didn’t give me two good feet for nothing!” she informed him acidly.
Cutter merely shrugged.
Her chest puffed, and Cutter fixed his gaze on her face, trying not to notice the luscious swell of her breasts. Her body was actually trembling with anger, her eyes blazing amber fire. “Just tell me which way to go!”
She watched as he settled in the saddle, taking his sweet time before turning to her. And then he smiled. “Don’t you know?” he asked, reaching back casually into his saddlebag. He lifted the unbound flap and slipped his hand within, retrieving a shriveled slice of jerky. Ripping it in half, he slid one dark strip into his mouth, holding it firmly between his teeth as one would a toothpick. The other half, he held in his hand, intending to offer it to Elizabeth.
Her indignant expression was too much for him. He chuckled. “That way,” he relented, and further obliged her by indicating the correct direction with a brisk wave of the jerky. He was confident in the fact that they were too far for her to cover the distance on foot. As he saw it, she’d grow tired enough to listen to reason before too long. Sore feet had a way of doing that to a body.
Her expression smug, Elizabeth made a big to-do of brushing off her skirts and hands, as though to rid herself of his presence once and for all. Slapping discreetly at her backside, she then turned haughtily in the opposite direction from that which he had indicated.
Cutter’s jaw actually dropped a little as he watched her march defiantly in the very direction they were headed. And he almost burst out laughing when he spotted the dusty print of her small hand planted firmly on her left rear, but the laughter died on his lips as he suddenly envisioned himself placing his hand over that print... thought of how her bottom would feel under his palm. Sweeping off his hat with a frustrated gesture, he shook his head, as though to shift his wayward thoughts.
“You think I’m that gullible, don’t you?” he heard her mutter. “Well, you can think again, Mr. McKenzie!”
“Well, I’ll be hanged,” he swore softly. And then he chuckled suddenly, amused that the little she-wolf had actually thought he would lie to her. Briefly he contemplated whether he should correct her choice of direction and the answer brought a devilish grin to his lips, because he sure as the dickens wasn’t about to. They’d ridden good’n’ hard this morning, and his horse was ready for a breather. As it was, he’d intended to follow her only as long as it took to change her mind, and then turn around and carry her on to St. Louis.
This way, there’d be no wasted time.
Farther along, there was a wide place in the road, just a small town, but one big enough that they might find a place to hang his hat and hitch his horse for the night... and maybe, if they were lucky, secure another mount for Elizabeth. Somehow he wasn’t too keen on the notion of riding double anymore.
Again, he shook his head and grinned, just thinking of the look of shock she’d wear when they rambled into town.
Deuced little hellcat!
Chapter Five
Maybe she was too embarrassed to admit she didn’t know which direction he’d pointed out?
Damned Cutter’s guilt wasn’t gnawing at his gut.
A frown crossed his features as he tore at the other half of the jerky. He’d tried to give it to her multiple times, but she’d refused him outright. She needed some kind of sustenance, he knew, so he reached back into the saddlebags, withdrawing another cut and stepped up his pace, intending to offer it again, certain the she-wolf was starved by now... hopefully enough to overlook her stubborn female pride. He shook his head.
Damned females; you couldn’t live with ’em, and you couldn’t shoot ’em.
