“That’s been my experience, but it’s usually all to the good, so it doesn’t trouble me in the slightest.”
She wished she could say the same.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
VIOLET FELT NOSTALGIC ASthey approached Morgan’s mountain and crossed the river near the spot where Morgan had taken her fishing. It felt so long ago, yet only a little more than a week had passed since then. It had been such a fun, idyllic day. They’d laughed, they’d talked, really talked, and without rancor for a change. She even smiled at the memory of dropping the fish on his chest and his reaction to it. Should she suggest another round of fishing tomorrow? Would he offer to go with her this time? Would he even remember how much fun they’d had that day?
She sighed. He’d refuse, of course, and then she’d be embarrassed for even asking. That wall of ice still stood between them, and that cold shoulder definitely kept her from indulging in fantasies that he could be more than a business partner to her.
Texas rode in not long after they reached the cabin. He greeted Charles warmly. He merely looked at Violet and grunted, which caused her cheeks to go scarlet and Morgan to tell her, “He searched for you, too,” before he and Texas left the room.
“Is there something I should know about?” Charles asked.
“Other than Morgan and I are back to being enemies, or at least he thinks so?” she said drily, but immediately wished she’d kept that to herself.
“That sounds... extreme.”
“It’s not,” she replied. “It was extreme at the beginning when he didn’t believe I was your daughter. Then when he did believe it, we got along. Now we don’t again.”
“Because?”
“He hasn’t said so in so many words, but I have to assume it’s because I left the camp without telling him and he felt obliged to look for me—and didn’t expect to find me with his worst enemy.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I understand why he’s angry that you ran off and put yourself in danger. But who can quibble with the results of your impulsive decision? I was rescued and Sullivan is in jail.”
She couldn’t tell her father about the other consequences of her impulsive decision, so she just smiled, then said, “As for Morgan’s still being in a snit about it, I don’t see that it matters. He’s your friend. He doesn’t need to be mine, does he?”
“The atmosphere would be more congenial if he were, but I suppose not.”
Morgan came back in, just long enough to hand Violet a stack of money. “Your half of the reward Texas got for taking those bodies to town. I don’t want it. You can put it toward your dowry.”
He made the last word sound like a curse; it wasn’t the first time that word had seemed to annoy him. She glared at his back as he left the room again.
“The atmosphere—” Charles began.
Violet interrupted, “Yes, I know, it’s bloody chilly in here.”
“What bodies was he talking about?”
She groaned and joined her father at the table to tell him about the outlaws, the wolves, even her almost shooting Morgan for killing him—might as well make a clean breast of it. Of course, there was one thing she couldn’t mention. Her fall from grace.
When she was done, he said the last thing she expected. “Is he in love with you?”
“Of course not.” Nonetheless, her heart leapt.
“It would explain his ‘snit,’ as you called it.”
“So would a hundred other things,” she exaggerated. “Believe me, love I would recognize.”
“These westerners are different from the people you’ve grown up with. They’re quiet, restrained. When a man wears a gun, he pretty much needs to keep his emotions in check, so what he is feeling might not be so obvious to other people.”
She smiled at him. “I understand what you’re getting at, but Morgan has been far from restrained. But I’ll talk to him and see if I can muster up a truce at least for the duration of our visit here.”
She just had to get up the nerve first, because it wouldn’t be easy, would likely be most uncomfortable. Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, at least he was amiable to her father.
