Page 21 of Cloaked in Beauty

“Well, you just put all that worry right out of your head. I’m fine. Doc wants me to take it easy for a few days. That’s all.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but I’ll not press you on that point just yet.”

Grandmother grinned. “Wise woman.”

The words pricked Letty’s heart. She’d thought to keep the incident with the Pinkerton to herself until the morning. Give her grandmother some time to recover before facing the strain of this new predicament, but something inside prodded her to pull the letter from her pocket.

“What is it, Letty?” Grandmother’s expression sobered. “I can tell something’s weighing on you. Something more than your concern for me.”

Praying she was doing the right thing, she held the letter out to her grandmother. “I met a man in the woods while Mr. Darby and the doctor were in here with you. I sent him away, but he left me this letter. Said he’d be back in the morning. The letter . . .” Her voice cracked. “It’s from Mama.”

Grandmother sucked in a breath, then took the paper from Letty’s hand. She unfolded the page and drank in the words like scorched earth drank in the rain.

Finally, she set the letter aside and met Letty’s gaze. Her face showed no sign of deteriorating health. In fact, her eyes brightened as some of her old fire sparked back to life.

“Bring me my writing desk, would you, please? We have much to discuss before Mr. Carmichael returns.”

9

Philip rolled up his bedroll the following morning, his stomach grumbling with regret that he hadn’t thought to retrieve his jerky before abandoning his coat yesterday. Not wanting to light a fire that could give away his position in the forest behind his quarry’s cabin, he’d settled for a cold tin of beans and lukewarm water for supper last night. His stealth had paid off to some extent. The red wolf that dogged the girl’s steps hadn’t sniffed him out. ’Course, that could have more to do with the animal’s training than Philip’s ability to hide. Most pets stayed close to home at night, and that wolf of hers was definitely a pet, though he’d not be so foolish as to think it tame.

Wandering down to the stream, Philip checked on his horse, then took the time to wash up and shave. Might as well try to make the best impression he could. He refilled his canteen and gnawed on a hardtack biscuit. He saddled Steele and stored the few items he’d unpacked the night before. He kept his field glasses out, though, and used them to monitor the activity at the cabin.

Miss Radcliffe emerged bright and early. She checked on the horses turned out in the corral—a wagon team and a small black mare that matched the description Mr. Johnson had given him back in Atlanta. The woman ambled about the yard with purpose. Long strides instead of mincing steps. Her movements were not without grace, but she had a natural jauntiness about her that was usually trained out of society misses. Her hooded cape was not in evidence this morning, and without the trees to filter the sunlight, he witnessed the full effect of the fire coming to life in her auburn hair. He’d seen a chestnut thoroughbred once with a coat that shone red like that when the sun hit it just right. Prettiest horse he’d ever seen.

Philip lowered the field glasses when he realized he was staring more at her hair than keeping track of her movements.

Get your head on straight. The color of her hair has no bearing on your mission.

Clenching his jaw and disciplining his mind, he continued his observations in a more methodical fashion, cataloging his quarry’s movements. She disappeared into the barn for a while and emerged with a pail, likely full of milk. Her wolf followed her around like a faithful hound. Obedient too. Didn’t even try to get into the coop to chase the chickens when she ordered him to sit. Just waited for her to scatter the feed and gather the eggs. He was rewarded for his good behavior with a thorough rubbing before she collected her bounty and reentered the cabin.

Philip tried not to imagine what delicious breakfast she might be making inside those walls, but with little else to distract him, it proved impossible. He forced himself to hold his position until nine o’clock, but the last five minutes of his self-imposed deadline were spent in the saddle watching the hands on his pocket watch count down each minute with tortuous slowness. The moment those hands formed the proper perpendicular, Philip clicked to Steele and circled around through the trees until he reached a place far enough down the road that he could approach the cabin in a way that would give the impression he’d been coming from town.

It didn’t take long for the wolf to sound the alarm. His sharp bark brought Miss Radcliffe from the house. She’d donned an apron, giving her a domestic air. She looked so . . . normal. Nothing like an heiress in possession of a fortune large enough to buy half of Texas.

She stepped away from the cabin and laid a hand on the wolf’s head. The animal immediately ceased its barking. “It’s all right, Rusty. Mr. Carmichael is expected.”

She’d read the letter, then. Good. That would make this much easier.

Philip reined Steele to a halt about five yards from where she stood. He rested one hand on the saddle horn and lifted the other to tug the brim on his hat. “Miss Radcliffe.”

An odd look crossed her face. “Miss Radcliffe ceased to exist years ago. I’m Letty Hood.”

Philip dipped his chin. “I beg your pardon. Miss Hood.”

She tilted her chin slightly and gave a shallow nod that would be at home in the finest ballroom. Humble milkmaid one minute, regal princess the next. Made for an interesting woman.

“Before I invite you in, I’ll need to see those documents, Mr. Carmichael. The ones that prove you’re working for my mother.”

“Of course.” He eyed the wolf, who was eyeing him right back, and not in a manner that could be considered friendly. “Is it safe for me to dismount?”

“As long as you don’t draw a weapon.”

Philip couldn’t tell if she was serious or bluffing, but he admired her pluck either way. The risk of wolf attack would definitely make a man think twice about reaching for anything. Smart move on her part.

Taking care to keep his hands in nonthreatening territory, Philip dismounted and slowly gestured toward his saddlebags. “The papers are in here. May I?”

Miss Hood nodded.