He moved back to his horse to eat his own fare and think. He couldn’t let this woman continue to travel with them. She could be in danger if anyone else realized her disguise. At the very least, her reputation would be in tatters.
But could he send her back alone through this wilderness? Did she even have something to go back to?
He needed to talk to her, find out her situation and why she was desperate enough to find her friend that she would attempt a trick like this—if the story about finding an Indian woman near a waterfall was even true.
She didn’t come near him again, though, not while they rested the horses. Maybe she thought avoiding him would keep him from outing her. It would do nothing of the kind. He would find out more about her, then he would make his decision.
When they were back in the saddle, the rain finally began to ease, and the group continued their journey in relative silence. Grant kept his horse a few paces behind Frank—or rather, Faith—as she rode with the other men in the front. He studied her profile as they rode, the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheekbone. She was a beautiful woman, evendisguised as a boy. Clearly though, she was far tougher and more adventurous than the kind of women he knew in St. Louis. He couldn’t even imagine what Gloria would do in a place like this, riding up the side of this mountain in the midst of a group of grizzled trappers.
They rode in the same order as before, with Skeet bringing up the rear. They’d been climbing the slope of a mountain at an angle, rounding the side of it, and as they began to descend the other side, Skeet moved his horse and packhorse around Grant, trotting up toward the front of the group. He slowed his animals to a walk beside Parson, and the two rode side by side for a few minutes. They must be talking, though their posture never revealed it.
Just ahead of him, Miss Collins glanced back at Grant, her eyes a little wide. Did she think Skeet had realized her secret too? Maybe she thought Grant told him.
Part of him felt a bit of triumph. When a person deceived people, they lived in fear of being found out. But Miss Collins must have a good reason for going to such lengths to find her friend.
As soon as they camped, he would find a way to talk to her, even if it took dragging her away from the others.
SEVEN
Parson must have read his mind, for the man halted them to set up camp earlier than the previous night. They were beside another stream, in a wider meadow than last night.
“We’ll sleep here.” Parson hadn’t yet dismounted, but scanned the land around them, his gaze roaming up the slope of the mountain they’d just crossed on the left side of the valley.
Grant glanced that way too, but there was nothing they hadn’t already seen. He dismounted and kept part of his gaze on Miss Collins, lest she try to slip away and evade his questions. She couldn’t go far, though, not for long. Parson kept a firm handle on his group.
When they’d all dismounted, Parson began speaking to those nearest him—Skeet, Willard, and Riggs. Grant edged closer, but Parson was already motioning those three men to set off. Then he waved for the rest of them to approach him.
He spoke in a low voice. “There’s someone watching us. Been following all day, I think. Water the horses, then tie’em on the other side of the water to graze where they’ll be outta the way. We’ll camp over there too and set a watch.” He motioned for them to carry out his order, even as his gaze shifted back to the mountain.
Grant’s gut clenched even tighter than before. He’d been so busy worrying over Miss Collins, he’d not even thought about an outside threat. That must have been what Skeet rode up to speak to Parson about earlier. If Grant had kept his wits about him, he might have seen the shadow of a follower too.
He led his animals to the water behind the others, and while his horse and mule drank, he studied the cliffside once more. That mountain ran almost straight into the next, and he focused on the ridgeline, then let his gaze move down over the trees and boulders. No sign of movement.
Parson still watched from the edge of the trees, so Grant turned his focus to his work. They needed to set up camp and settle the animals, and he still needed to talk with Miss Collins. All while being far more aware of his surroundings than he’d been.
He would need to help with a watch in the night too.
He took charge of the animals again while Miss Collins started the fire. Now that he knew she was a woman, her preference to cook made more sense. She’d likely had experience preparing food over an open fire. After seeing to his and Miss Collins’s horses and mule, he unloaded Parson’s two animals so the man could stand watch behind one of the trees lining the bank.
The men kept quiet for the most part, tension spreading through the group as they worked to unsaddle and hobble the animals. Everyone brought in firewood this time, whichmeant he wouldn’t have to spend extra time gathering it as he had last night.
Miss Collins looked to be preparing something in the pot that included dumplings, and he crouched in front of the fire, near enough that they could talk quietly. “Can I help?”
She shook her head. “It’s almost done.”
He kept his voice low and glanced toward the trees to make sure the others were still gathering wood or talking with Parson. “While it finishes, maybe you can tell me why you need to go to those waterfalls so badly you’d risk your reputation and virtue, and even your life, in such a way.”
She frowned at him. “I told you, I’m looking for a friend. I have something important to give her.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Something that will save her life? Because it would need to be that vital to take such a risk.”
A woman wasn’t always so logical, though. It hadn’t taken him long after he and Gloria were married to realize she thought through things differently than he did. He’d not always been as willing to slow down and listen to her reasoning as he should have. Especially at the end. He should have taken her complaints seriously, but he’d thought her pains a passing ailment.
She raised her chin. “Not her life. But something incredibly valuable to her.”
Before he could ask more, Riggs approached and dropped his load of sticks and logs. “That grub sure does smell good.”
Miss Collins turned her focus back to the pot as she stirred, and when she spoke, her voice dipped into that deeper tone. “I think it’s about ready.”
