Impersonate? Was he serious? “IamCharles Mitchell’s daughter.”
“No, you aren’t, but I suppose Shawn wouldn’t know that I know that.”
He was making no sense. Maybe he really was as crazy as Katie had suggested.
Then he added, “And you were warned about noise.”
She sucked in her breath before blurting out, “I’ll be quiet!”
“Smart choice,” he said. “?’Sides, nothing you say changes my mind, and we’ll both have the truth when we get to where we’re going.”
“Where is that?” Instead of answering, he took a step toward her. She quickly held up a hand. “All right!”
She really couldn’t bear any more riding on her stomach. And where he was taking her would be obvious enough when they got there. But she was nervously aware that he hadn’t confirmed that he was Morgan Callahan. What if he wasn’t? But he had to be! There couldn’t be two men who looked and behaved so similarly. And he knew Shawn Sullivan and her father. Didn’t that confirm it?
She got her skirt and blouse on before she thought to mention, “If you will at least tell me you’re taking me to my father’s mine, I won’t say another word. That is why I wanted to speak to you, all I was going to ask of you.”
“You bargaining with me, lady?” he asked in an ominous tone.
She frowned. “I asked one simple question.”
“And said a whole lot more. But the fact is, I’m not going to believe anything you say until you tell the truth and admit you’re working for Sullivan, so don’t bother.”
“Then why did you abduct me?!”
“To find out exactly what you and Sullivan are up to—and you’re out of words and time.”
“Wait! I haven’t finished dressing.”
“Then stop talking and get to it,” he growled.
It wasn’t easy getting her socks and boots on without sitting down, but she managed it by leaning a little against the mule’s side. She pulled her jacket out of the valise, shook it out, and donned it, since the morning was still chilly. Then she saw that her hat had been smashed under the jacket and gasped. It was utterly flattened! Did he know no better, putting a beautiful hat under a pile of clothes and boots? She tried to reshape it before tying it on.
There was nothing she could do for her hair. She’d braided it for bed as usual, but it was already starting to unravel. And it was too dark yet to see if he’d tossed her hairpins into the bag, not that she could fix her hair properly without a mirror. He might have grabbed them if he wanted no trace of her left in the room so it would appear she’d left on her own. Then no questions would be asked. But the sheriff might be notified that she’d skipped out without paying her bill—unless Morgan had paid it.
For all she knew, he might have left her key along with payment on the desk for the sleeping attendant to find when he woke; then, indeed, no questions would be asked, no sheriff would search for her.
She came out from behind the mule with the scathing complaint, “You’ve ruined my hat.”
He stared at her. If he smiled or frowned, she realized she wouldn’t be able to see it because his long mustache blended into his beard.
But he obviously couldn’t care less about her hat, because all he said was, “You’ll ride with me.”
The devil she would. Ride in close proximity to him for however long it took to reach his mine, which could be days, for all she knew?
“That’s out of the question. A lady doesn’t ride with a gentleman who is not her fiancé or a member of her family, let alone a stranger who has abducted her.”
“Spare me the etiquette lesson, lady. If you don’t want to sit behind me, I suppose you can ride on one of the pack mules, though it’ll be a tight fit.”
Tight? He had six mules in assorted colors, but all six of them were heavily burdened with sacks, crates, small barrels, baskets, even hay bales. There was no room left on any of them where she could sit even if she would deign to do so. Actually ride a mule? Good God, her options were intolerable. But it was better than riding touching him.
He didn’t wait for her answer. He went to one of the mules and began moving the three hay bales strapped to it farther back toward its rump to make room for her to sit up front. Then he retrieved the blanket he’d tossed aside and folded it for her to sit on. But she could see no way to get onto the mule’s back. It didn’t have a normal saddle, a pommel, or stirrups, just some sort of apparatus on its back with a lot of straps attached to secure whatever it was carrying. Could she pull herself up by gripping that?
“They’re all sweet gals as long as they’re well-fed, and they currently are,” Morgan said when she moved to stand beside him. “You won’t get bucked off. Carla here has the lightest load, so she won’t mind your weight. And being at the front of the team, you’ll taste less dust.”
“How wonderful,” she said sarcastically.
“You could always walk,” was his terse reply.
