“What are you going to do?”
He released her. “I’ll figure something out. I have a backup cover—that I’m here from the Confederate government investigating the quartermaster.” He exhaled. “I’ll give it more thought. But right now, you need to get back to your horse, change, and ride home.” Her horse? She’d probably ridden that blasted mustang. He prayed to God he wasn’t a fool for trusting her.
“I want to help. I can spy. You see that I can.” Morning Fawn waved her hand over her clothes. “Should I make up something to say to Nicholas?”
“Absolutely not. I want you to get home and act like nothing has changed. If they notice you were missing, tell them you went for a long ride. If they lock you in the attic, I’ll work to get you out.”
She folded her arms. “I’ll do that for now, but I’m a better spy than Frieda.”
Men’s voices sounded in the distance. A disagreement at the loading docks or something else?
He jabbed a finger toward the hill. “I don’t have time to argue with you. We’ll discuss it later. Go. We’ll talk tomorrow morning, sunrise. And remember what I told you.”
She nodded and scurried up, pawing dirt as she climbed. Her poor stockinged feet.
He’d better speed up this mission while he had any brains left. There’d be no way to keep Morning Fawn uninvolved now that she knew. It’d be like shooting off the starting pistol at a race and telling a Thoroughbred not to gallop. Although the Schramms were not going to understand, and neither would Captain Carson, he had to figure out a way for Morning Fawn to help and keep her and everyone else safe all at the same time.
CHAPTER 24
Morning Fawn trembled as she plunged through the buffalo grass, the wispy heads of grain parting like waves. Devon was a Yankee. And a spy. A warrior taking a terrible risk.
He said he had feelings for her. Why, he’d almost looked as if he could kiss her today. Hehadkissed Frieda. Not on the lips, but still, the thought scraped over her nerves like the sharp edge of a shell. And goodness knows, he’d said plenty of pretty words before without them translating to faithful actions.
But today, he’d told her his secret. At least one of them. He was trusting her with his life. She wouldn’t give up until she found a way to assist him and prove herself. For the first time since her arrival in this society, she had a real purpose—two, to be exact. She’d help Devon spy on the Rebs, and together, they’d help Lucy and Ned. For eighteen months, she’d had nothing to wake up in the morning for except the hope of escaping. And she’d failed at that, though she had only put half her heart into it. The distance was too great on her own with no certainty of what awaited on the other end. But this was different.
If only she hadn’t made such a spectacle of herself today. Clearly, she’d demonstrated she didn’t have a clue about behaving in a ladylike manner. The man probably thought she was better suited for jawing over a spittoon than dancing at a ball.
Gnats hovered around her head. She swatted at them.
Frieda Schramm had better keep her hands off Devon.
She hitched her trousers as she neared the buildings. A couple of the soldiers behind the depot paused in their work and stared her way.
Best get back to the main street and blend in, then she could cut through the alleys to the other side of town where she left her horse. She lowered her hat over her eyes and hurried onto the pebbled path. Pain pricked the soles of her injured feet. A sign of softness. They’d once been as tough as hide.
“Hey, boy, what you been up to down there?” A soldier with a scraggly beard hollered at her.
“Doing my business. Couldn’t find an outhouse.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and hurried faster.
“Hope you didn’t leave anything for me to step in.”
The redheaded man beside him straightened. “Didn’t I see you being chased?”
“Didn’t want a whipping,” Should she hurry by them or head for the other side of the building? Her feet weren’t up for another chase. “Fellow said I stared too much at his girl.”
The one with the beard chuckled. “How old are you, anyhow?”
“Old enough.” She hastened past. “Gotta get home. Ma’ll have a fit.”
The redhead’s silence didn’t bode well. Morning Fawn picked her speed up to a jog. The street, safety—a lady with a baby carriage, a slave woman walking behind her mistress, another solider, two men in suits. She bolted through onto theplanked walkway and ran smack dab into a man’s hard muscular chest.
She stumbled backward and landed on her rear end with her legs splayed wide. A few strands of hair fell from beneath her hat.
Nicholas gaped down at her.
Her face flamed. She jabbed her hat down and scrambled to her feet. A sinkhole would come in mighty handy right about now. “Excuse me, sir.” Her voice warbled instead of dipping low.
The lady with the baby carriage stopped to stare, but the two businessmen mumbled and strode past.
