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Thinking of Alex as her parents’ killer became more difficult with each passing day. Even though he’d barely spoken to her in the last three days, and seemed to avoid her whenever possible, the way he observed her from a distance was almost as intense as if he touched her. Each day that passed made it more impossible for her to ignore his heated glances. When she caught him staring, her heart always leapt to her throat, and a tingling sensation suffused her insides. Why was he so difficult to figure out? Why did he not engage in conversation with her? Yancey’s distance she could understand. The man worshipped the ground Alex walked on, and didn’t do anything unless told to do so. Silently, Evelyn agreed with Alex that Yancey belonged in a fancy parlor rather than in this untamed wilderness. The only man truly at ease with her was Laurent.
Sitting next to her, the Frenchman chuckled heartily, and she remembered she’d asked him about the thing he considered a delicacy. “Why, madame, this boudin is stuffed with the meat of bison shoulder, some kidney suet, flour, and pepper. I have cooked it to perfection in bison oil.”
Evelyn wrinkled her nose. “You enjoy it then,” she said quickly, fanning her hand through the air as if trying to dispel an offensive odor. “I’d rather not eat it.”
“You must eat to maintain your strength. What will your husband do to me if he learns that I have allowed his woman to starve?”
Evelyn adjusted her position on the ground, taking care to keep the warm robe wrapped tightly around her. Freezing to death seemed a more immediate concern to her than starvation. Laurent reached toward the woodpile next to him, and added several more logs to the fire.
“If you have some cornmeal or flour available, I can make some biscuits,” Evelyn offered. She longed for some bread and greens; anything other than meat. The only time she’d eaten more than meat of various questionable varieties had been during the few days she’d spent with the Osbornes.
“You would make some biscuits or johnny cakes?” Laurent asked, his eyes widening.
Evelyn smiled slowly. His boudin must not be as tasty as he had proclaimed.
“Are there any edible tubers or vegetables to be found here?” she asked, and gestured with her chin into the nearby forest. “I’d be glad to prepare a stew. Alex and Mr. Yancey should be back soon, don’t you think?”
Laurent jumped to his feet. “We do not need to wait for their return. Tell me what you need, Madame Evie, to prepare a stew, and I shall provide it for you.” His eyes shimmered with hope and eagerness, and Evelyn couldn’t refuse him.
“I need a pot over the fire with water, and any greens you can find, and whatever meat you have for flavor. I could use a skillet for the biscuits, flour, some fat, and salt.”
“You shall have these things, Madame. Remain by the fire. Laurent Berard will provide you with what you need.”
Evelyn watched him rummage through several of Alex’s packs, producing all the items she needed. He disappeared into the surrounding forest for a while, and returned with some roots and tubers, and even a pouch filled with berries. With a wide smile on his face, he showed her his finds, then hung the iron kettle over the fire.
“Anything else you need, Madame? We will all enjoy your feast tonight.” He smacked his lips together, grinning broadly.
Evelyn reluctantly left her warm spot by the fire, and set to work cleaning and cutting the roots, and adding them to some leftover venison that sizzled at the bottom of the pot. A pleasant aroma soon filled the air, and she momentarily forgot about the cold.
Alex and Yancey rode into camp at just about the time when Evelyn deemed her stew to be ready to eat. A small deer lay across Alex’s thighs. He dropped the carcass to the ground, then dismounted his horse. Evelyn caught his unreadable stare before he turned his attention to his horse.
“Your wife has graciously offered to cook a fine meal tonight, Walker,” Laurent proclaimed loudly.
Alex didn’t respond. He finished unsaddling his mount, then hobbled the animal’s front legs together and turned it loose with the rest of the horses. He rummaged through one of his packs, and produced a heavy-looking white wool blanket with yellow and red stripes at the ends. Wordlessly, he strode up to her and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Before he had a chance to walk away, Evelyn grabbed his hand. She wasn’t about to simply let him walk away this time. “Thank you,” she said softly, a hesitant smile on her lips. He stared down at her, the hard lines of his mouth softening just slightly. Her pulse increased.
“Supper smells good,” he said. His warm hand unexpectedly covered hers, sending a flood of heat up her arm. She bit her lower lip to prevent a gasp.
