Skylar was amazed when at last they stopped. She had ridden all her life and was a good rider, and she had never thought of herself as a person lacking in stamina, but she was so sore she was afraid she’d fall when she dismounted from Nutmeg. Thank God, for the absolute salvation of her pride, she didn’t do so. In fact, none of the men even seemed to notice her discomfort, they were apparently so accustomed to such hard rides themselves. “We’ll see to the cattle for the night,” Hawk said, looking down at her from Tor’s high back. “Perhaps you could get some coffee started.”
She nodded. He’d made the suggestion politely enough. The brook was clearly in her view, and Willow, bless him, was starting to make a small fire.
“The coffee pot—?” she asked.
“Oh, in the pack. On Skeffington,” Hawk said, gesturing toward the mule before moving on.
And thus she met Skeffington. As soon as she approached him, he turned. “Stand still!” she commanded the creature. She came around again. Skeffington moved in another half circle. “If you’d stand still, you’d be happier. I’d get those packs off your back, and you wouldn’t have to carry them anymore!”
Skeffington apparently didn’t care. He moved again.
“Skeffington, we have to make coffee.”
The mule lowered his head and let out a loud bray. He’d been left untethered, and he suddenly started walking off, straight toward the water.
“Don’t you walk off on me!” Skylar said, running after him. But Skeffington was already in the water. “Get out of there!” Skeffington ignored her. He was drinking. She swore and removed her shoes and hose, lifted her skirts, and went after him.
The water was icy. She stepped on little rocks. Her hem was quickly soaked.
“I wonder what mule meat tastes like!” she muttered fiercely.
She reached Skeffington and caught hold of his lead rope.
“Come on. You’re not going to enjoy a drink or anything else until you learn to behave!” she threatened.
She tugged on the lead rope. Skeffington bucked his back legs and tugged in return. She redoubled her efforts.
“Hey! How’s that coffee coming?”
She looked back at the left bank of the brook. Hawk was standing there. As she turned to him, Skeffington suddenlydecided to come along. He did so with such an abrupt force that she was sent spinning forward, falling into the icy water.
As Skylar stumbled up, she was shivering wildly. As she found her footing, she saw that Skeffington was standing docilely on the bank, right next to Hawk. Wolf ran around the mule, barking excitedly, wagging his tail.
Hawk wasn’t exactly laughing—his smirk was worse.
“Come out of there!” he told Skylar. “That water is cold.”
Dripping, well aware that the water was damned cold, she walked from the brook. She passed by Skeffington.
“What about the coffee?” Hawk asked.
“Make your own damned coffee!” she retorted. She made her way to Willow’s fire, hunching down before it, trying to warm her hands. A moment later Hawk was at her side, setting the coffee pot atop the blaze, then throwing a blanket around her shoulders.
She stood, allowing the blanket to fall.
“You know, you’re as stubborn as that mule,” he told her.
“You knew I’d have trouble.”
“I know that you are an incredibly resourceful young woman,” he told her. He rose, picking up the blanket. “I have more clothes for you. You don’t need to freeze.”
She arched a brow at him. “You—brought clothes for me?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know how well prepared you might be for this kind of ride.”
“Thank you. I can prepare on my own.”
“If you insist upon freezing, freeze!”
