Page 13 of In These Hills

“Thank you,” she managed, wanting more, but thinking better of it. She held out the canteen.

“Finish it up, if you can.”

So she did, draining the contents until the water sloshed in her belly. It wasn’t exactly sustenance, but it was something.

“More?” he asked.

She shook her head.

A minute later, Jessie bounded back up to the seat, water dripping from her mouth, fairly smiling if that were possible for a dog. Mr. Coburn followed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, his beard damp.

“Thank you again,” Josephine said, meaning it.

“No trouble.” He urged the team onward. “How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Last night,” she finally admitted, not looking at him.

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a strip of dried beef. Or what was left of it. “It’s not much, but it’s yours if you want it.”

She accepted without hesitation, her mouth watering. “Thank you.” While beef jerky had never been a favorite, too salty for her taste, she attempted to tear off a piece by hand.

“I’m afraid that’s the kind you got to sink your teeth into, ma’am.”

She did, and bit off a thick chunk. Flavors exploded in her mouth. Pepper, garlic, onion, and . . . another ingredient she couldn’t identify. She briefly closed her eyes. Delicious. Smooth and smoky. Her stomach flinched, not quite a spasm, but definitely unpleasant, and no doubt stemming from lack of food. But knowing even this little amount would help, she chewed all the more.

Still savoring, she shielded her mouth. “This is very good.”

“Glad you like it. But seeing as there’s nothing but water in your belly, you might want to take it easy. See how it sits first.”

“I’ll be fine.” She tore off another piece with her teeth, eager to regain her strength and unable to remember anything tasting so good. After a minute, she grew very aware of the dog’s attention. “Is it all right to give her a bite?”

He gave a nod.

Josephine held out a small piece.

“Easy, Jessie,” he whispered, but the dog was extremely gentle when taking the piece of jerky from her grasp.

Only when Jessie started growling and the wagon stopped did Josephine look up to see two men on horseback stopped in the middle of the road ahead—rifles aimed.

“Whatever happens,” Dodge Coburn whispered, cocking the revolver now in his grip. “Don’t say a word.”

“But what do they—”

“Not . . . a word.”

5

“HOW CAN I HELP YOU GENTLEMEN?” Dodge called out, already knowing Jessie would follow his command, but doubting the woman would. Not based on the fire in her expression seconds earlier.

The man on the right nudged his mount forward, the thickness of his beard unable to mask his sunken cheeks. The recent winter had been hard. “Teamsters ain’t drivin’ the wagon today.”

“You’re a mighty astute man.” Dodge scanned either side of the heavily wooded dirt road. “But again, what can I do for you?”

“It be more ’bout what we can be doin’ for you.” The second man edged closer. “Let’s see what you got in that there wagon, then we’ll see if it’s anything we’re wantin’.”

“That’s nonnegotiable, my friend. The delivery of this freight has been entrusted to my care, and I intend to see it to fruition.”

The two men looked at each other then slowly back again.