Morning Fawn scanned the store. Reynolds must have headed over to the livery stables.
Wine-colored taffeta, soft to the touch, shimmery to the eye. What would Reynolds think of such a dress? She gasped. What in the world was she thinking? That man’s opinions didn’t matter a scrap.
Only, it’d be mighty fine to show him she wasn’t some pitiful weakling in need of help, like she had been the night he’d come to her room. She’d show him she could be as fine of a lady as any in the county. And that she had no interest in whatever scheme he had of winning her hand through the land deal, or was it winning the land through her hand?
Nicholas Moyer would like the dress. The very thought of him was enough to make her want to tug her neckline upward. Earlier in the month when he’d come to speak with her uncle on business and stayed for dinner, he’d hardly noticed Thea was in the room. Instead, he’d offered to take Morning Fawn riding and even hunting, a measure of freedom. But still, an agreement with him would be like trying to outsmart a coyote.
She drifted to the other end of the counter, away from Aunt Judith and the lace. Pocket watches, straight-blade razors, and combs vied for space alongside percussion caps and a well-used revolver. The gun would be of more use than any fancy garment.She was willing to bet she could master it quicker than she’d learned how to conduct herself properly at the LeBeaus’ elegant dinners. Navigating all those utensils, saucers, and bowls was enough to boggle her mind.
What she needed was a man who didn’t care about the marriage, who’d wed her for half the land. How easy would it be to undo a marriage? How could she be certain her unclewould keep his part of the agreement with no hidden tricks buried in the paperwork? Still, her best option was to play along for now and bide her time. Land close to the frontier. Hers. If only there could be a place where she could truly belong.
Three ladies entered the store, their skirts wide, their bonnets stiff, and their noses too long from the way they looked her up and down.
Morning Fawn tensed. She’d had her fill of these walls and smells and too many shelves. Aunt Judith was still talking with Mr. Garner and looking over spools of ribbon. Morning Fawn blew out a breath and slipped toward the door, side-stepping the three busybodies.
Fresh, cool air struck her as she walked outside. Almost as sweet as the breeze through the open window in her room. Relief. She closed her eyes for a moment as the sun peeked around a cloud and warmed her face, her whole body.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Reynolds crossed the street, hustling out of the path of a four-mule wagon. Plumes of dust floated up from their hooves.
Morning Fawn jabbed a hand to her hip as he hurried over to her. “Do you have a rule against breathing?”
He frowned beneath his slouch hat, his slim, dark beard contrasting with the deep blue of his eye. “No, just against ladies who don’t stay put.”
She chuckled. “Well, you’d better go play nursemaid to my aunt, then. She’s an expert at that.”
His lips quirked upward. “It’s the troublesome ones who need to be kept within an arm’s reach. That’s why I’m taking you with me on the rest of my errands.”
“What errands?”
A breeze lifted the rim of her straw hat, whipping the ribbon against her cheek.
“The saddle and harness shop, for one.” He held his elbowout toward her as if she might consent to place her hand around the crook of his arm.
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “Lead the way.”
“First…” He held up a finger. “I have to tell your aunt. Don’t move a step.” He stuck his head inside the mercantile and called to Aunt Judith.
Morning Fawn scooted over a foot just for spite.
“Just full of contrariness, aren’t you?” Reynolds smirked as he pointed the way forward.
A young boy in knickers tugged on his momma’s arm as they strolled past. “Is she the one who stole the horse? She doesn’t look Indian.”
“Hush.” The stout lady with the flower-covered bonnet yanked him along.
Morning Fawn picked up her step.
Reynolds glanced over his shoulder. “Should I have said something?”
“Not a word.”
The smell of leather washed over her as they walked into the dimly lit store. Harnesses, horse collars, bridles, and their various parts hung on pegs along the barn-like walls. Saddles straddled narrow benches, and strips of leather, both wide and narrow, lay haphazardly on a long table with a draw knife on the end.
The owner, canvas apron smeared and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, spit tobacco juice in a spittoon and greeted Reynolds with a howdy.
Morning Fawn glanced around as they spoke about a harness her uncle had ordered, and then, of course, the man wanted to know about the war. Reynolds asked about the cotton shipments as if he were eager to drive a load down to Mexico himself. Such a trip would be six to eight weeks each way.
Reynolds seemed intent on taking his time returning to hisregiment. Come to think of it, he’d taken his time on enlisting in the first place, too busy with minor details like ruining her life for three hundred dollars. And now this whole marriage-for-land scheme? She’d better figure out exactly what he was up to.
