At the moment, the little fellow was no longer content to ride on her lap, instead clawing and howling to escape her arms. Lorelei scrambled for a better grip of the animal as she cried out, “No!”
But the tiny creature slipped from her arms, leaping from the saddle to the ground. In a flash of fur, it darted toward the two tallest boulders.
“Boots, come back!” Lorelei leapt from her horse and scrambled toward the rocks. The fluff of a coyote tail slipped behind them.
Juniper’s belly clenched. That pup had already caused enough trouble. Running loose among all this chaos was dangerous, though, especially if Lorelei chased after him.
She slipped from her own mount and grabbed the reins her sister had left hanging. Maybe Lorelei would finally let the animal go if she didn’t find it right away. That didn’t seem likely, for the girl possessed a heart too sensitive toward animals, and the pup was too young to survive on its own. She’d discovered the animal curled in its den, orphaned by the shot of one of the supply train hunters. She’d managed to keep it alive for a week now and was determined to nurture the pup until it was old enough to hunt on its own.
But if she truly couldn’t find the animal this time, perhaps she would have no choice but to let it go.
As Lorelei disappeared around the same boulder the coyote had, Juniper glanced at her other sisters. Rosemary’sexpression had turned worried, her body tensed like she might leap from her saddle any minute. “Lor, come back.”
“I’ll help her.” Faith, the baby in the family at sixteen, released a sigh as she dismounted and handed her reins to Rosemary.
“Here, boy. Come, Boots.” Lorelei’s gentle murmur drifted from the rocks, though they still couldn’t see her.
Faith slipped out of sight the way Lorelei had gone, and moments later, a strange sound made Juniper tense. Something like a squeal and shout combined. What had her sisters stumbled upon back there?
“Lor? What’s happening?” Rosemary leaned forward to slide from her mount but paused when Lorelei and Faith stepped from behind the boulders.
Both possessed empty hands, and Lorelei’s face held a bit of thunder. Had she lost the pup?
A third person followed them—a man. Apprehension pressed in Juniper’s chest, and from the corner of her eye, Rosemary straightened and reached for her rifle.
The stranger held Boots in the crook of his arm. She couldn’t decipher the man’s expression. Almost amused, yet his brows lowered in something like a scowl.
When all three had stepped from the rocks, Lorelei spun and reached for the pup. “I’ll take him now.”
“Who isthat, Lor?” Rosemary had her rifle aimed now, her tone one of a protective elder sister.
The man glanced at the animal lying quietly against his chest, then to Lorelei, his expression shifting in a way that showed his hesitation. “Ma’am, this is a coyote pup, not a pet. Wherever his mama is, she’ll not take kindly to human scent on him.”
Lorelei straightened. “I’ve become his mama, ever since the real one was shot by a wagon driver. I’ve been feeding him, and he’s happy to ride on the saddle with me. I’m in no danger, sir, except maybe from the likes of you. Hand over my coyote, if you please.”
The man’s brows shot up, and his gaze shifted from Lorelei to sweep over all four of them. Then he shrugged and held out the pup. “Be careful. The Almighty made his kind to bite the hand that feeds it.”
Perhaps so. But this man hadn’t met Lorelei Collins yet. No animal would think of biting her sister. In addition to her tender heart, she also possessed an uncanny way of winning the affections of wild creatures with merely a word and an outstretched hand.
Juniper should probably hold her tongue, but something in the man’s demeanor, the way he acted like Lorelei hadn’t the sense of a schoolgirl, pushed the words out. “My sister knows how to handle him, sir, far better than you, I’d say. That pup would have died a week ago without her.”
As Lorelei removed the coyote from his arms, the man’s focus lifted to Juniper. Something too much like a grin played at the corners of his mouth. “That’s good to hear.” Then he moved back to take in all four of them again. “Welcome to the rendezvous, ladies. I’m Riley Turner. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Then, without giving them a chance to respond, he turned and walked back through the boulders, disappearing as mysteriously as he’d arrived.
Riley Turner paused partway down the slope and glanced back, but he could only see the cluster of rocks now.
Women.
He’d met so few females these past years, and none from back East. The sight of them had nearly addled his brain. Why would white women come to this place, where rivers of whiskey flowed and a host of otherwise smart men took leave of their senses?
The supply wagons often brought an extra visitor or two, men who wanted to experience the happenings of the trapper rendezvous—an event that had become infamous among Easterners. He’d even heard an artist might have come along this year to capture the scenes for others.
But no word of women coming had reached his ears.
He’d not planned to be part of the welcoming party—too many others would swarm the rigs—but when he spotted the four riders split off toward the rocks, he’d not been able to help himself.
And a coyote pup? Only Easterners would think it a good idea to try to tame a wild animal. If the mother truly had died, there might not be danger right away. But going against the natural order of things almost always ended badly. He’d learned that fact while growing up in the Illinois wilderness and during those two years in the cavalry, but now he understood it far better after living in this unsettled country.
