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Evelyn wheeled around, leaving him to stare at her back. The sun hit her hair in such a way that it shone like copper against the blue sky. His hand reached out, compelled to run his fingers through the soft strands. He caught himself before he touched her, and dropped his arm against his side, his hand clenched in a tight fist. How he would endure the months ahead without touching her was a mystery to him. Perhaps he should return her to St. Louis now, then she’d be safe from the dangers of the wilderness, and also safe from him.
“If we ride now, we can still cover several miles before nightfall,” Laurent called from behind him. Alex cursed under his breath.
Evelyn spun around, and shot him an icy look. She rushed past him to her horse.
“Mr. Yancey, would you care to help me onto my horse?” she called loudly. Yancey shot a surprised look at her before his eyes darted nervously to Alex. Alex cursed again. Before Yancey had a chance to react, Alex strode to Evie’s side, and lifted her unceremoniously into the saddle.
“You’re my wife,” he said through clenched teeth, staring up at her. Sudden jealousy fueled his anger. “You’ll ask me for assistance.” He handed her the reins and didn’t wait for a reply. Mounting his own horse, he guided his animal through the creek, and wrapped the lead ropes of his pack animals around the horn of his saddle to free his hand to hold his rifle. He set a brisk pace across the meadow heading toward the Teton Mountains. Laurent pulled his horse up alongside his, and Alex ignored the sideways glances the Frenchman shot him on occasion. Thankfully, his friend remained quiet, which allowed him to focus on the sounds behind him.
Yancey rode alongside Evie, commenting on the vastness and the beauty of the wilderness. She remained silent, no doubt pondering what she’d found out today, wondering whom to believe and trust.
“You know the Indians call him Shadow Walker, don’t you,” Yancey said in a hushed voice.
“What does that mean?” Evie asked, the tone of her voice indicating mild interest.
“Your husband; he’s somewhat of a legend among the Indians.”
Evie scoffed. “Alex Walker may be a legend among the Indians, but to me he’s nothing but a warthog.”
Alex’s mouth formed a smile despite all his reservations.
Chapter 9
“Would you care for some boudin, Madame Evie?”
Laurent sliced a large round sliver off of what looked like a pale, oversized sausage and held it out to her.
“I’ve asked you before to stop calling me madam.” Evelyn shot an annoyed look at the Frenchman. She huddled under a thick buffalo robe, sitting as close to the campfire as she dared. She sniffled, her nose and cheeks numb from the sudden frigid shift in temperature as twilight descended on the camp. A cold gust of wind whipped strands of her hair around her face, and Evelyn swiped it back with an impatient stroke of her hand. She glanced at the clouds moving swiftly across the sky, wondering if rain wasn’t far away. The days and nights had been pleasant so far, but today had been unbearably chilly.
The last three days had been spent traveling over high alpine plateaus and meadows covered in sedge and willow. Today, Alex had called an early halt to their travels so that he could go hunting before nightfall to replenish their supply of meat. At Laurent’s urging, he had reluctantly agreed to take Yancey along with him. Laurent had been left behind to set up camp and watch over Evelyn.
Her stomach grumbled, and she warily eyed what the Frenchman offered. Her appetite vanished instantly. During her weeks of traveling with Laurent and his murderous cohorts, she’d seen them eat a variety of unappealing food items. Even during the last three days of moving through this endless wilderness with her present company, the men had offered her foods that made her stomach roil.
“Don’t you men ever eat anything that is actually fit for consumption?” Evelyn averted her eyes from the food. It reminded her of the slop she used to feed her mother’s hogs.
Laurent held a dramatic hand to his chest, as if deeply offended at her for declining his offer. “Meat is meat. And this is a delicacy, mon amie.” He glanced around camp and over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to swoop in and steal the delicacy from him. He leaned toward her, and whispered, “I have been saving this for when I do not have to share it with the others.”
“What is it made of . . . that thing you call a delicacy?” Evelyn asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of curiosity. Laurent was the only person who spoke to her regularly, and as much as she wanted to remain angry with him, his friendly demeanor made him almost likable. Byron Yancey was too scared of Alex to speak to her directly, unless she addressed him first. Alex had apparently decided to ignore her for the most part since they met up with his companions three days ago.
