He tugged off his hat. “Sorry. Didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”
She couldn’t help a small smile at his reaction. He was so honest and forthright. No hint of secret intentions or cunning. A far cry from the men she’d been surrounded with her entire life.
He looked like he was trying to decide what to say next.
She kept her expression pleasant. “Your name is Coulter, right?”
His brows shot up, and he swept his gaze around the area.
She pressed her lips to keep her smile contained. “You’re the brother of Sampson Coulter?”
He straightened, every part of him going alert. “Do you know my brother?” He nudged his horse forward, and the animal picked its way up the path to her.
She waited until he reined the animal to a stop in front of her and dismounted, expectation marking his features. “You know Sampson?”
She dipped her chin. “I do.” Was she really going through with this? She had to. God had given her the perfect opportunity to plan her escape. She had to grasp hold of it.
She summoned a fresh dose of courage. “I can take you to him, but first, I need a favor.”
Gil Coulter still struggled to catch up with what was happening. He’d been riding along, the same as he had for the last three hours since leaving Canvas Creek. Then this woman had appeared up the slope like a mountain angel.
But this angel knew Sampson. Maybe she really had been sent from above to lead him to his brother. He’d certainly prayed enough for God’s help.
“What do you need?”
She gave a tiny shake of her head, then glanced around. A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes. “Come back to my house, and I’ll tell you. It’s too much to say standing out here.” She motioned the direction he’d just come from. “It’s only a quarter hour’s walk that way.”
He’d seen no houses. No barns. Not even animal tracks. But she had to have come from somewhere, and if he’d missed a sign along the way, he’d like to know what it was.
He gave a nod. “All right then. Lead the way.”
She started down the slope he’d just ridden up, her long stride moving easily over the rocky terrain. Like a mountain goat, with the grace of a woman in a ballroom and a fancy dress. Probably. He’d never actually seen a ballroom. He and his family had moved from Kansas to the Montana Territory when he was eight. But he could imagine what his brothers’ wives had described a time or two.
As the woman ahead of him wove through a patch of trees, he had to scramble to keep up, his horse trailing behind.
He guessed she’d never been in a ballroom either. She moved like she was part of these mountains. Like she’d traveled this exact stretch so many times that she knew every stick and stone.
At last, the path flattened and the trees faded away. He lengthened his stride to walk beside her. “We didn’t have a proper introduction back there. I’m Gil Coulter. And you are…?”
She spared him a side glance without slowing. “Jess McPharland.”
“Jess. That’s pretty.” As pretty as she was. “Is it short for something?” As soon as the question slipped out, its impertinence snagged him. He shouldn’t be calling her by her given name anyway, much less nosing into its origins.
“Jessamine. Is Gil short for something?”
He grinned. What was fair for one was certainly fair for the other. And he didn’t mind giving details. “Gilead. Gilead Jeremiah Coulter.”
This time her look lasted a second longer, like she was taking his measure. “That’s a mouthful.”
“Yep. My three older brothers all have names that start with the letter J, but Mum said she was always calling the wrong name, so she put my J name in the middle.”
As a boy, he’d always felt like the outsider because he wasn’t in the J clan. But Mum’s explanation made sense. She’d certainly called the wrong name enough. Between the six boys and Lucy, she’d struggled. At one point, she’d started calling the boys by number. He’d been “Four.” One of the many.
Miss McPharland spoke so little, maybe she thought it odd he’d volunteered that story about his name. But giving details about himself might put her at ease enough to talk more.
Finally, she angled toward a sheer rock face and slowed to a stop. "We're here. My home is just inside."
He scanned the solid stone, but then she moved to the right and disappeared through an entrance he’d thought was just a shadow.
