Page 29 of Cloaked in Beauty

“You need to be nice to Mr. Carmichael and his stock,” she warned in a low voice. “They’re part of our family now. At least until we get to Houston. So don’t be stirring up any trouble.”

Rusty sat on his haunches, tipped his head, and made a little whining sound in his throat that sounded an awful lot like “Who, me?”

“Don’t give me that innocent look. I know you too well, you scoundrel.”

His eyes sparkled as he jumped to his feet.

Letty laughed softly. “You’re hopeless.” And completely unrepentant. Yet she adored every furry inch of him.

“Ready?” The masculine voice drew Letty’s attention to the man who held her future in his hands.

She swallowed once, then nodded, sitting up straighter as she met his gaze. “Ready.”

He clicked to his horse and set off at a walk. She nudged Shadow to follow, twisting in the saddle to take one last look at her home.

Grandmother stood in the doorway, hand raised. “Give your mama a hug for me when you see her,” she called.

“I will.” Letty forced a smile as she waved.

Neither spoke the word good-bye, but it lingered heavily in the air between them.

Memorizing every detail about the woman who’d been mother, grandmother, and best friend to her for the majority of her life, Letty craned her neck for one more minute, then turned forward in the saddle and forced her gaze to fasten on the man in the buckskin coat.

Her chin quivered, but she clenched her jaw and pressed her lips together. Grandmother had prepared her for this day, and she’d honor the woman who raised her by meeting the challenge with dignity and courage.

A chapter must end before a new one could begin, and whether she was ready for it or not, her page was turning.

13

Philip cast a glance at the pinkening sky, then twisted slightly to observe the woman riding a half-length behind him. She’d put in a long day. Seventeen or eighteen miles, by his estimation. They’d skirted around Linden a couple of miles back and now plodded through blissfully boring territory, free of railroads, towns, and two-legged traffic.

She hadn’t uttered a single word of complaint. Then again, she hadn’t uttered much of anything on this trip so far. She’d praised her mare each time they’d stopped to water the horses, and she’d called to Rusty a time or two when his explorations had taken him a little too far afield, but few words had been aimed in Philip’s direction. The bits of conversation that did apply to him were polite and appreciative. And practical. An offer to fill his canteen. A question about how best to watch for trouble. A thank-you when he’d handed her a strip of jerky at midday.

He should be glad he hadn’t been saddled with a woman who prattled constantly, but he worried her quiet was the product of a melancholy mind. Riding for extended lengths of time gave a person an abundance of time to think. Good for strategizing safety measures and anticipating where attacks might occur. Not so good for distracting one from thoughts centered on sick grandmothers, uncertain futures, and murderous uncles. That type of dwelling tended to compound worries instead of alleviating them.

Not that he would blame her for engaging in a bit of a wallow. Leaving family to strike out on one’s own was hard. He recalled being rather mopey in his private moments after joining the Pinkertons. He still got a pang every now and then when he thought of his mama and daddy sitting around the table for Sunday supper, his sister, her husband, and their two little girls gathered around. He missed them. Their teasing banter, their affectionate smiles, their unwavering acceptance. Yet he’d been called to walk a different path, one that took him away from the warm and familiar and thrust him into a world teeming with danger and lawlessness.

A longing to return to a simpler life had been growing in him of late, though, making him wonder if the Lord might be calling him to change paths again. Or perhaps to combine his newfound craving for home and hearth with his conviction that he’d been placed on this earth to right wrongs.

Philip gave his head a self-deprecating wag. Here he’d been worried about Letty spending too much time dwelling on the uncertainties of her future, and he’d gotten mired in his own boggy cogitations.

He slowed Steele until Letty’s mare drew abreast of him. He tipped his head toward a small clearing about a hundred yards to the south. “Let’s make camp there.”

She lifted her gaze and peered through the trees flanking them on either side. “All right.” The weariness in her voice stirred his compassion.

“You did well today, Letty.” He smiled and was rewarded with a flicker of what might have been happiness in her eyes. “It’ll get easier.” He held her gaze for a moment. “All of it.”

Her posture straightened as she caught on to the fact that he was referencing more than the long hours in the saddle. She lifted her chin and the corners of her mouth tipped slightly upward as well. “I know. But thank you for the reminder.”

Glad to see some light return to those pretty hazel eyes of hers, Philip didn’t even mind when her wolf pushed his way between their horses. Steele had grown used to having the ornery beast around, and the gray adjusted to the left without missing a stride.

“The stream we’ve been following the last mile or so will provide fresh water, and we’ll have plenty of kindling for a fire.”

One of the benefits of traveling through logging country. Though the sap content of pine made it pop a lot more than oak, so they’d have to keep an eye out for flying embers. They only needed a small fire, something big enough to cook on. The nights could get cool this time of year but not cold enough to require a fire for warmth. Fortunate, since they wanted to be as invisible as possible.

Letty shifted in her saddle. “I’ve never cooked over a campfire before, but I’m handy with a skillet. I’m sure I could fry up some hoecakes or a potato hash.”

Philip grinned. “Sounds tasty. I’ve got some onion and salt pork we can add to those taters. Won’t be nothin’ fancy, but it’ll fill up the empty places and won’t take as long as simmering a pot of beans.”