“I’M HUNGRY!” VIOLET SHOUTED.
She’d had no breakfast, thanks to Morgan Callahan’s despicable abduction, and lunchtime felt as if it had come and gone. But he didn’t appear to want to stop for anything, not even to eat. She assumed there was food among his supplies. Or was he looking for an animal to kill? Did he expect to reach his mine before he ate?
They were still traveling on the road, heading mostly east. They’d passed that lovely mountain range she’d been able to see when they’d left Butte. She’d thought that might be where they were headed, but obviously not. They passed over creek after creek, many of which had dried up, followed a river for a while, got out of the way of the stagecoach he’d predicted would come along. North of the road the land was still verdant with green grass and trees, but to the south there was only dirt, dried grass, and scrub brush as far as the eye could see. She couldn’t stop thinking about that beautiful mountain range that had looked so inviting. She’d bet it was cooler up there!
“Did you hear me?!”
“You screech like a harridan, so how could I not?” he answered without looking back.
“So it’s your intent to starve me?”
He didn’t answer, of course not, because thatwashis intent! Violet had never been this sore in her life. Even that bout she’d had with flu her first year in England when her whole body had ached hadn’t been this bad. Morgan had kept up a bouncing pace for a good hour before he’d slowed the animals to a walk for the next few hours. That allowed her to actually lean back a little against the large bundle of hay at her back. Gently. She’d be mortified if she pushed it off of Carla’s rump and the bale rolled away.
She was silently crying in pain by then, though the heat dried the tears so fast, they probably didn’t leave streaks on her dusty cheeks. A few times, she thought she might faint. More than a few times, she wished she would, anything to end this misery, however briefly. Oh, how she wished she were back in England traveling in her aunt and uncle’s comfortable, elegantly appointed coach. There would be a basket of rolls and pastries on the mere chance that they would get hungry. She was hungry!
“If you don’t tell me when we will eat, I’m dismounting right here,” she threatened.
She wanted to, but she hesitated long enough to realize that he wouldn’t care, would probably be glad that she’d made the choice to leave herself there in the middle of nowhere. To die. She growled to herself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of having his problem solved so easily. She’d never disliked anyone this much in her life. She disliked him so much, it felt more like hate.
And then he turned directly north into a hilly area. A few minutes later, she screamed when he fired his gun. She hadn’t expected him to do that, and the sound was so loud and close to her. He dismounted and picked up a long, fat snake near his feet. It had orange, white, and black stripes. And he took out a knife and cut off its head.
She winced, disgusted, and heard him say, “It was going to slither past my gals. They would have started bucking to kill it, and you would have landed on your ass. They don’t like snakes.”
So he’d saved her from falling? Ha! More likely he enjoyed the fright he’d just given her. But instead of tossing the dead reptile aside, he moved to stuff it into one of his baskets. Taking the trophy home? She grimaced at the thought.
Passing Carla again, he handed Violet a strip of dried jerky. She didn’t thank him. He could have done that hours ago! And it certainly wouldn’t satisfy her hunger for very long, but the first bite she ripped off the strip did take the edge off. And then they continued on.
It was much greener as they rode north, long grass, a few pine trees, more wildflowers, but the day was still sweltering. She had no idea what time it was, late in the afternoon? The last time she’d glanced at the sun to gauge the time, she’d been blinded for the longest time, so she didn’t do that again. But her sore body might be making it seem like they’d ridden longer than they had. Where the devil was his mine? And then they were trotting again! But not for long this time.
“We’ll rest the animals for a while,” Morgan said, stopping beneath the shade of a large tree.
Violet stared blissfully at the lake they’d come to. Carla had already moved to the water to drink and Morgan was walking toward her. “Let me help—”
Not waiting for him to finish, Violet slid off the mule by herself and immediately dropped to her knees, which was not her intention, but her legs just gave out. He shook his head and offered her a hand up, but as long as she was down, she sat to remove her boots.
“I wouldn’t recommend—” he began, but didn’t finish the warning.
Her legs still shaky, she stumbled to the water’s edge, sat down on the grass, and stuck her feet in it. It felt sublime, even if the water wasn’t as cold as she’d hoped it would be. She wanted to swim in the lake, which was what he must have assumed she was going to do, but she didn’t want her clothes to get wet and she certainly couldn’t remove them, not with the bear lurking behind her. Her upbringing forbade it. Her legs probably wouldn’t cooperate anyway if she tried to swim. Sitting astride might have kept her from bouncing off Carla’s back when the mule was trotting, but constantly gripping Carla’s sides with her thighs and calves to keep her balance had worsened the aches in her legs.
She leaned forward to splash water on her face, getting the ends of her hair wet in the process. Then she tried to discreetly knead some of the soreness from her upper thighs, but that hurt too much, so she stopped.
She realized that she undoubtedly looked a fright. The rest of her braid had unraveled and her long golden hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders. Without her usual coiffure, her lovely little hat probably did look ridiculous now, perched atop her wildly disarrayed mane. But she was beyond caring, too sore, too tired, too miserable—and still a little afraid of her abductor escort. What if he wasn’t Morgan Callahan? He never had confirmed that he was. But even if he was, that didn’t mean she was safe with him.
A splash to her right made her glance to the side. She was arrested, watching the man dip his head in the water then flip his head back to get the wet hair out of his face. Beads of water reached her, though she barely noticed.
It was the first time she was seeing him without his hat on. She’d been able to tell that his black hair was beyond shoulder-length. Slicked back with water as it was now, and with his long beard wet, too, his face was a little more defined, could even be called ruggedly handsome, she supposed. It also allowed her to see that he wasn’t really that old, maybe less than twenty-five years. Not that either made any difference. He was still a detestable bear.
He’d been kneeling to dunk his head but stood up now and, once again, hooked both thumbs on his belt—his actual belt, not the gun belt that slanted across his hips. “I appreciate that you’ve been mostly silent during the ride.”
That “mostly” nettled her. “It’s been too hot to make an effort to tell you what I think of the despicable way you are treating me,” she said indignantly. “And it wouldn’t have served any purpose, would it?”
He chuckled and walked away without answering, but then his amusement was answer enough. She huffed to herself and didn’t follow him with her eyes. She was content just to sit there in the shade with her feet in the water and ignore the odious man. But she did glance back when she heard the crackling of a fire. He was roasting something above it, had positioned four stakes around it to hold the meat out of the flames. Her eyes flared when she realized he was cooking the snake! Good Lord, did he expect her to eat that? Even as hungry as she was, she simply couldn’t.
She closed her eyes tight, trying to hold back tears. She might have enjoyed the outdoors when she was a child, but she could never have imagined anyone roughing it like this. Or being so poorly prepared that they had to eat snake meat!
A while later he said, “I’ve let it cool enough for you to hold.”
She glanced down to see a long slice of the cooked meat being offered to her over her shoulder. Oh, God, no plate, skin still on it, though he’d at least split it open.
