Page 64 of Cloaked in Beauty

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The next four days passed more quickly than Philip would have wished. Strange how emotions affected time. At the outset of this endeavor, when the journey had just been a job, the days seemed to crawl, but now that each moment represented a precious gift to spend getting to know the remarkable woman who rode at his side, time slid through his fingers with terrifying quickness.

They’d reach her mother’s house in two days. Two days filled with constant vigilance and very little conversation, for the closer they came to Houston, the less room there was to hide. Cities and towns multiplied as open spaces shrank. Rail lines crisscrossed the countryside like tree branches, growing denser as they neared the source.

Ever since their group crossed the Trinity—thankfully with no one taking a swim this time—Letty had worn her hood. The cloak helped keep her warm as the temperatures cooled, but it was the anonymity the hood afforded that motivated the fashion choice. Philip had spotted three or four riders during their travels over the last day and a half. Likely men out hunting or rounding up stock, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Not with Letty.

Philip checked the pinkening sky and made the decision to call a halt. He steered his mount off the game trail they’d been following and headed for a small grassy area a short distance away that would make for a soft place to sleep.

“We’ll make camp here.”

“All right.”

Her voice sounded weary, but when he turned to look at her more fully, she smiled as if she’d been sleeping on feather mattresses for the last two weeks instead of hard ground. He smiled in return, adding a bit of apology to his gaze. He’d pushed her hard today. Pushed them all hard. Eking out an extra five miles to bring them just north of the small town of Cleveland, Texas. Tomorrow they’d cross the rails and travel to Huffman, then from there, Houston.

A soft hum echoed behind him as he plodded toward the campsite. He recognized the melody. A hymn, “Peace, Perfect Peace.” Why was he not surprised? Philip grinned to himself. Bone tired and drooping, yet she didn’t voice a complaint. No, she hummed a hymn that promised rest.

What a joy it would be to spend one’s life with a woman who handled adversity with a smile and a positive outlook. Not a childish belief that no trouble would come, but a deep faith that remained steady in the storm, trusting the unseen to be more powerful than the seen. A woman who would believe the best of him and inspire him to live up to her expectations. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized he’d been looking for such qualities in a wife, but now that he’d found them, he’d not be satisfied with less.

They worked together to set up camp, so used to the routine by now that words weren’t necessary. Even the animals knew what to do. Rusty took off on his evening hunt, while the horses placidly nibbled grass, enjoying the freedom from packs and saddles.

By the time the sun set, camp had been prepped, coffee made, and plates brimmed with fried salt pork and golden-brown biscuits. No longer imposing a distance between them that neither wanted, Philip lowered himself to the ground next to Letty and leaned his back against the saddle behind him as he stretched his boots toward the fire.

She spoke of her grandmother. He spoke of his sister. Neither spoke of what would happen in Houston.

He got up to refill both their tin cups, and when he handed Letty her second helping of coffee, she peered up at him, a question in her eyes.

“Do you expect to keep working for the Pinkertons indefinitely?”

Philip blinked as his pulse picked up speed. It was the first time they’d spoken of the future. He took a deliberate breath before lowering himself back to the ground at her side.

“I doubt it.” Admitting it sounded strange to his ears. The thought had lived only in his mind up until now. “I enjoy helping people, but spending so much of my time among criminals, liars, and blackmailers has begun to sour my outlook on humanity.”

She set her plate aside and twisted to face him. “You’ve been trained to be suspicious, to ferret out wickedness by thinking like the very criminals you are trying to catch. I can see how it might be hard to believe the best of people in those circumstances.”

He met her eyes. “Not as hard as it used to be.”

Her cheeks pinkened, and her lashes lowered, assuring him that she’d picked up on his meaning. Taking pity on her, he shifted his gaze to his coffee cup and took a sip.

“If you weren’t a Pinkerton, what would you do?”

Such a simple question, but the answer couldn’t be more complicated.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m cut out for farming like my folks. Maybe ranching or law enforcement in a sleepy little town somewhere. I still feel drawn to protecting people, but I’m tired of living out of hotels and the back rooms of saloons.”

Letty’s expectant gaze cut through his doubts, compelling him to open himself in a way he hadn’t even done with his family.

“I do have one idea. Though it might sound a bit farfetched.”

An encouraging smile bloomed across her face as she leaned closer. “I love farfetched ideas.”

He grinned. How could he not? She made the impossible seem possible.

“Well, it occurred to me that one way to curb the number of criminals running amok in this world is to find them when they’re young, before the world has hardened them completely. Many boys turn to crime out of desperation. They end up on the streets. Hungry. Alone. They steal to survive and often fall in with thievery rings who use and abuse them in exchange for a few crusts of bread and a place to sleep. If I could provide an alternative, maybe those boys would choose a different path.”

His words picked up speed as the picture he’d been refining over the past two years unrolled in his mind like a detailed blueprint. “I’d like to build a big house somewhere with lots of land for them to run around on. I’d give them a safe, stable place to live away from the city. Three meals a day. Routine. Education. Discipline tempered with respect.”

“And love. Children need lots of love. Especially those who’ve been treated poorly.”