Mrs. LeBeau bristled. “Elizabeth.”
Chin jutted, Morning Fawn tossed her bonnet on the pew beside her. Whatever look she gave her aunt must have been more than enough. Mrs. LeBeau pressed her lips tight and strutted to the front without another word.
More than a few heads turned their way.
Morning Fawn smoothed her skirt. “They’re looking at me. Probably still thinking about that commotion I caused a couple weeks ago.”
He blinked at her. She was doing him the courtesy of acting like the stares were all about her. “So I heard.” One corner of his mouth managed to curl upward before it drooped. “That’s where I came in. For better or for worse.”
“I thought I’d best sit in the back in case it happens again.”
It? Panic? A memory?
Morning Fawn fiddled with a fold in her green wool skirt, avoiding his gaze. Several silky locks looked ready to spill to her shoulders at any moment. He’d never seen a blush so deep on her cheeks.
Maybe there was hope of unraveling Moyer’s lasso.
The congregation faded. She’d chosen to sit beside him. Would she have made the same choice if Moyer was here? Best not to question the blessing. “Please don’t steal any horses today. I’m too beaten down to come after you.”
Hazel eyes, with golden specks, met his. “Perfect time to escape.” She smiled. At him. First time ever, except for the night of the laudanum. She whispered, “Don’t worry. I won’t today.”
Warmth stirred within him, siphoning off the tension. Didshe know the truth about last night? He wanted to be certain. “I didn’t do it.” His cheeks heated.
“I know.”
The millstone cracked. His shoulders lifted.
Up front, the minister moved toward the pulpit.
Devon lowered his voice to hardly more than a breath. “I can’t stomach everyone thinking I did. But poor Lucy?—”
“You saved her from blame and a whipping. I’d hate to guess what you saved her Ned from.” Her lover.
His pulse throbbed in his neck as their gazes lingered.
The pianist struck a key, and the congregation stood. The notes of “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” sounded throughout the small sanctuary. Devon rose beside Morning Fawn and picked up the hymnal. He knew the first verse, not the rest. Palms sweaty, he fumbled through the pages to the correct one and held the book out for Morning Fawn. His swallow stuck in his throat as her fingers slipped around the right bottom corner to hold the hymnal with him.
“‘Prone to wander Lord, I feel it. Take my heart Lord, take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above….’” Morning Fawn’s voice blended with his.
A hum of awakening swelled within his chest. The first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon of his heart.
Clouds moved across the midnight moon as Devon tied his horse and made his way through the brush. The wispy buffalo grass parted like wheat beneath his step. Hopefully, his knee-high cavalry boots would protect him against any snakes that had yet to slither off into hibernation. Tiny bits of paper pricked his heel.
His brain had been full of sap ever since church. MorningFawn had strolled along on his arm as he’d walked her to her carriage after the service, in no hurry to depart. The warmth of her touch flowed through him like hot maple syrup. She’d made no mention of Ebony or Moyer.
She also hadn’t said a word about Devon’s handkerchief from a week ago. Was it in a heap of dirty laundry, or was it something she didn’t want to let go of? But what was a handkerchief compared to a horse?
Maybe he should agree to race the man, put him in his place.
Gurgling drifted on the breeze as Devon neared the river. An owl hooted. He hooted back. A man, equal to his height, stepped from the far side of an ancient cottonwood, its trunk wide as a table. Captain Jeremy Carson. In the year they’d served together, they’d become fast friends, and as equal as a captain and a lieutenant could be despite the fact that Jeremy was a West Point man. A man who loved Texas as much as Devon and wanted to see her free. Worn trousers, a patched coat, and a beaten-down slouch hat had replaced his usual neat uniform.
“You weren’t followed, were you?” Jeremy stepped forward, his usually clean-shaven face deep in whiskers.
“No, I made certain. And if anyone asks, I was in Alleyton playing cards.”
Jeremy clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Good to see you. I wanted to come in person to see what you’ve been about.”
“And what are you supposed to be? From the looks of you, the provost marshal might arrest you and ship you off with the rest of the dregs of the Confederacy to the front lines.”
