Page 14 of The Heart’s Charge

How had he spotted it so early? She only knew its location because of the frequency of her visits to Georgia’s home, not because the grass-covered ruts were actually visible. Most people missed the turn altogether the first handful of times they searched it out. And even once a person knew what she was looking for, she had to be right up on it to see where to go, especially this time of year, when the vegetation was at its peak.

Eliza eyed him more closely as she adjusted her hold on the baby. “Yes. That’s it.”

He nodded and resumed his silence.

She’d initially placed Mr. Brooks in the savior category, with his insistence on playing escort combined with the way he’d stepped in and taken charge of hitching the team for her. Yet he’d been slow to interfere with the ponies, allowing her to struggle on her own before taking them in hand, and he’d made it clear that his escort was prompted more by a sense of duty toward the child than the belief that a woman couldn’t handle driving a wagon on her own.

His reserved demeanor gave one the impression that he preferred thinking a matter through before speaking, which could indicate an intellectual typology. On the other hand, his bearing radiated the authority of a natural leader, more in keeping with the master type. When he’d made the proclamation about escorting her, she’d recognized instantly that there would be no dissuading him. Yet he hadn’t bullied or insulted her in any way.

Not to mention that he was a Horseman, for goodness’ sake. A warrior confident in his skills and experience. For good reason. Yet he was not the leader of the Horsemen. Which meant he was content to let others take charge. At least other men. Whether or not he’d bend to the wisdom of a woman was yet to be seen.

She utilized other, more minor, categories as well: scoundrels, cowards, charmers. Mr. Brooks definitely did not fit any of those descriptions. Then there was the decent type. Kind fellows, unfailingly polite, and always ready to lend a hand. One need not manage the decent type at all, which made them comfortable to be around, yet exceedingly bland. Jonah Brooks was anything but bland. There was a roughness around his edges and secrets behind his eyes. Secrets that intrigued and invited investigation as much as they cautioned her to keep her distance.

Mr. Brooks clicked to the ponies and effortlessly steered them onto the rutted path that led to the Harris homestead. Bessie and Tessie responded to him like a pair of lovestruck schoolgirls eager to please the new boy in town. Not a hint of stubbornness emerged when the wagon made the corner, unlike when Eliza drove. It usually took her two or three attempts to get the pair to turn off the road and into the high grass, but apparently Bessie and Tessie would traipse right off a cliff with Mr. Brooks at the reins.

He turned to look at her at that exact moment, precisely when her pique was at its, well, peak. He said nothing. Neither in words nor expression. No smirk to indicate a feeling of superiority. No brow raised in challenge. Not even a polite smile to put her at ease. Just a brief, nondescript glance that heightened her curiosity to disturbing levels.

Why did she care so much about discerning the inner workings of this man? He was a stranger who would be on his way in a few hours, never to darken her doorstep again. She should simply ignore him and focus on the baby who’d inspired this little drive in the first place.

Eliza straightened her spine, faced forward, and ordered her mind back to the task at hand. Only the task at hand was currently sleeping and had no need of immediate attention. Which left her mind free to travel elsewhere. And, of course, the elsewhere it chose sat three inches away from her on the driver’s bench.

Stoic. Inscrutable. Frustratingly capable. And far too handsome for her peace of mind. Not that a man’s looks were worth anything. Character was the true measure of a man’s worth, though she’d yet to meet one who didn’t come up short in that department. Her father included. Nevertheless, a well-put-together face with a strong jawline, a pair of broad shoulders covered in lean muscle, and an impenetrable gaze that dared her to probe deeper could all be extremely distracting. Even for someone who knew better than to be taken in by such meaningless superficiality.

Girl, get your head on right.

“What was that?”

Good grief. Had she actually muttered that bit of self-instruction aloud?

Mr. Brooks turned those far-too-keen eyes her direction. Eliza stiffened, refusing to give him the upper hand. She wouldn’t be intimidated. Not by him. Not by anyone.

Pasting a smile on her face that had nothing in common with the flash of embarrassed panic thumping in her chest, she pointed to the homestead that had just come into view. “The house is ahead, on the right.”

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, just long enough for her to be certain he hadn’t been fooled by her word switch. But he didn’t call her on it. Nor did he exhibit any hint of smugness, suspicion, or even amusement. He simply nodded his acceptance of what she’d said and steered the wagon toward Georgia’s yard.

Why couldn’t he just fall into one of her tidy categories and cease being so intriguing?

As he drew the wagon to a halt and came around to assist her, however, the confidence of his stride, the sureness of his arms, and the penetration of his dark brown eyes boded ill. She very much feared that Jonah Brooks was not a man to be pigeonholed. Which meant he was a man who needed to fly her coop as soon as possible.

Jonah intended to lift Miss Southerland to the ground, babe and all, but apparently the contrary woman had different ideas. She handed the infant to him, then turned to clamber down from the wagon under her own power. Which would have been fine had he possessed any clue how to hold a baby. Hands that had been prepared to circle a woman’s waist nearly clapped together as the space shrank to engulf a newborn’s torso. Twisting his grip at the last moment, he planted one palm on the little one’s stomach and the other against her back like bread on a sandwich.

Sarah’s eyes popped open. Taking one look at him, she scrunched her face and howled. Jonah winced.

Don’t drop her. Don’t drop her. Don’t drop her.

Afraid to move, he held Sarah at arm’s length and prayed for Miss Southerland to hurry up. It seemed an eternity passed before she reached the ground. When she turned, he swore he heard amusement in her voice, though he didn’t dare take his eyes off the baby to confirm his suspicion.

“Held a lot of babies in your day, Mr. Brooks?”

“First one,” he muttered.

He hated looking incompetent in front of a woman as dynamic and efficient as Eliza Southerland, but if looking the fool knocked a crack in that veneer she’d hidden behind for the last half hour, maybe it was worth the dent in his pride.

“I would have never guessed.”

Why was she teasing him instead of rescuing the kid from his ineptitude? Wasn’t that her job? Rescuing children?

Jonah swiveled until his outstretched arms nearly bumped Miss Southerland’s shoulder. “Here.”