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"There must be some who change and — "
Mrs. Hampton shook her head. "No, my dear, once a gunslinger, always a gunslinger. And let me tell you, those gunslingers aren't faithful to any woman. They love them and leave them, so to speak. But you needn't worry about them. You're a well-bred young woman, that's obvious, and you have a wonderful husband who loves you. You're one of the lucky ones."
Prudence watched as the woman reached for her fifth honey cake. Crazy thoughts muddled her brain as her eyes focused on Mrs. Hampton's full cheeks chewing the sticky cake. Could she be right? Or was Zac different from the others? He hadn't chosen to become a gunfighter.
Or had he? Was the story he told her of his youth the truth or a tale?
Zac returned to the dining salon and found his wife's carefree mood gone.
By evening's end she had reverted back to the proper, well-bred, stuffy Prudence Agatha Winthrop. Even her attire had changed. She dressed sedately in a plain brown skirt and basque for supper. She had drawn her hair, so coppery bright when loose, tightly back to sit in a large knot at the nape of her head. She looked god-awful. The only item she failed to wear was her gloves, having heeded Zac's sharp warning look. She'd left them sitting on her traveling case.
All evening he tried to understand what had gone wrong. He had already surmised that she had an aversion to being seen in the rough. He attributed this to two factors, one being her genteel upbringing and the other her obvious low opinion of herself. Two obstacles he saw no problem in overcoming. But this sudden turnabout of emotions bewildered him, giving rise to speculation that was not to his liking.
Did she once again view him as an infamous gunslinger? Was he once more an unacceptable character in her eyes? Had his stories been too vivid? Did they portray the raw side of his life too profoundly to be to her liking?
Zac stood over the bed where Prudence slept. She had requested, quite primly, that he give her a few moments to see to her nightly toilette. He obliged her with a curt nod, leaving her to undress. He understood, somewhat, her need for privacy, though he had plans that would bring it to an abrupt end.
When he returned she was in bed, with the covers tucked snug beneath her chin and her eyes squeezed shut. A signal that required no explanation to Zac. It read loud and clear. Don't touch.
He shook his head and ran his hand through his rumpled hair. He still held the key and the solution to their problem. Yet the time wasn't right to use it. It was time he needed, and time he had, and time he would put to good use.
He reached down and brushed a silky strand of hair off her cheek. "You're my wife," he whispered, the simple statement explaining everything.
CHAPTER 14
"That's Fort Sully," Zac said, walking up to Prudence as she strained her neck out over the railing to see the large log structure one hundred yards or so ahead on the right bank.
"We'll be stopping there?" she asked unable to keep her enthusiasm from showing.
He was glad she at least still found their journey exciting. He only wished he could say she felt the same sense of elation about him. "For a day or two, then we're off by wagon to my ranch."
"How long will that take?"
Zac shrugged. "Four or five days, depending on the weather conditions."
Prudence looked questioningly down at her willow green day dress and then up at Zac. "Not suitable?"
"Hardly," he said, touching the thick velvet material and wondering how she wasn't suffocating in the heavy garment. The late spring air was warm, exceptionally so. But it didn't fool him. He knew a cold front could blow down from the north in the next hour and bring with it a good snowstorm. He doubted it would, though, since he had a feel for such things. No, he expected the summerlike weather to continue.
"I'm afraid I'm quite unprepared for the trip to your ranch. Most of my clothes are similar to these, with the exception of the outfit I purchased at the mercantile," she explained, concerned about her lack of functional clothing.
"There's a trading post at the fort. We should be able to find you suitable garments for the trip." As an afterthought, he added, "I like that outfit you bought. It suits you much better than your Boston clothes."
Her manners being what they were, Prudence immediately thanked him for the surprising compliment, then quickly resumed looking at the fort that they were fast approaching.
Zac stepped behind her, pressing into her back as his hands stretched past either side of her to rest on the polished rail.
