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The whistle blew and the call for departure was issued.
Zac pointed to the upper deck, reminding her where she was to meet him. She pointed to the dining salon behind her and motioned with her hand to her mouth, then pointed to him. He nodded his willingness to meet her there and patted his stomach to demonstrate his hunger.
Prudence's laughter was light as were, once again, her emotions. She often thought this was the way a marriage should be, trust and caring being the most important aspects of the relationship. And at the moment, she felt she shared those notable traits with Zac.
But was the feeling really mutual?
She hurried into the salon that was now filling with passengers. She fixed a plate for Zac, and one of the crew members, who helped serve, carried it to a table near the door while she poured two cups of coffee.
Prudence was seated at the table when he entered.
People, she noticed, were instantly struck by his appearance. How could they not be? He was so tall and formidable and, lest she forget, handsome. He was minus his hat and the blonde, for which Prudence was grateful.
“I thought you wanted to watch the boat pull away?" he asked, standing as though he'd forgo his meal so she could view their departure.
His consideration warmed her. "We'll go out on deck when you finish."
To Prudence's disappointment, other people joined them. She had wanted to be alone with Zac so they could talk. She suddenly had an overwhelming urge to learn more about him, and since she wasn't certain how much time they had left together, each moment seemed precious to her.
She was glad when he finished and excused them both to walk out on the deck. He directed her silently with a light touch of his hand to the lower part of her back. They were soon on the upper deck past their cabin at the front of the boat, watching the beauty of the Missouri River pass before them.
"Too many people on the lower deck," he said in explanation.
"You don't like crowds?" she asked, anxious to share this time with him.
"Sometimes they're a necessity and I admit I enjoy them. Though most of the time I prefer the company of my few good friends and the solitude of my ranch."
She liked the way his hair ruffled in the warm breeze that drifted off the river. She noticed his hair wasn't as dark a brown as she'd first thought, and she admired the color that sat somewhere between dark and light.
"How large is your ranch?"
"Over a thousand acres and growing," he beamed proudly.
"You've thought of expansion already?"
"I intend to have the biggest cattle ranch in the territory," he stated, his firm tone suggesting he would settle for nothing less.
"How did you get into ranching?"
"Don't you mean what made me give up being a gunslinger?"
She caught the defensive glint in his eye and met it with one of her own. "No, I didn't, but since you mentioned it, whatever made you become a gunslinger?"
Zac liked her fearless nature. "Necessity."
Prudence remained silent and attentive. Realizing she intended to hear him out without comment, he continued. "I was young and not much good at anything. My father drifted from town to town and job to job, and I tagged along with him. If I didn't, he would have just left me behind without a thought. My mother died when I was five. Don't recall much about her except she always smelled good, like fresh flowers."
In contrast, Prudence thought, her life had been perfect, even considering that her mother had left her and her father. At least she had a father who loved and cared for her.
"I started fooling around with a gun when I was about eight. It fascinated me, and I learned right fast that men who knew how to use one were quickly respected. I started teaching myself. Day after day I'd practice my aim. Then I practiced my draw. Then I combined both until they were perfect and I didn't miss one moving or nonmoving target."
Prudence was caught by the faraway look in his eyes. It was as though he were reliving his troubled youth.
"The first time I killed a man I got sick. Didn't plan it, didn't intend for it to happen. My father got into trouble in the local saloon in a town whose name I've long since forgotten. One of the men was a gunslinger and called my father out. Said he'd been cheating at cards, though I don't know how he could have been, since he was too drunk even to see straight. I was fifteen and scared."
He stopped and looked straight at Prudence. "Just like that kid who challenged me in Plattsmouth. Only I didn't want to challenge this man. I just wanted to prevent my father from being killed. God knows why."
