Brides of Texas (33 page)

“Why didn’t anyone help her out? It’s plain to see he’s mistreated her.”

“Hepplewhite’s richer than just ‘bout anyone else in the county. Most everyone’s had a bad time, what with the depression and drought. They all owe him big money on their accounts. Wren never complained. I tried to get her to talk a few times, but she’d just go real quiet.”

“Was he just boasting, or do you think he’s…hurt her?”

“Not a chance. Get a few beers in Hepplewhite and he lies about everything.”

The lady tied on a sunbonnet and handed the sheriff a shirt she’d kept aside. “Thank you.”

“Farewell, Wren.”

Chris wrapped his hand about her waist and lifted her onto the seat. He climbed aboard and flicked the reins. As soon as they’d drawn away from the town, Wren broke their silence. “I’ll be happy to purchase a horse if you give me some advice. Soon as I do, you’ll be free of your obligation.”

“Where would you go?”

She shrugged. “Wherever I find a town. There’s one a day or so south of here.”

“Dogtail? You don’t dare go there. It’s worse than Sodom and Gomorrah. Don’t you have any relatives at all?”

“I have no one upon whom I can depend.” She inched a bit farther away. “Mr. Gregor, we’ve not even been properly introduced, but I must tell you I’m not a…” She blushed vividly. “That is to say, Mr. Hepplewhite made inferences, and I want you to know I won’t…If you think I’ll—”

He squinted at the horizon and added matter-of-factly, “We’re traveling companions—nothing more—so you can stop fretting and fussing.”

For all of her acute chagrin, she still manufactured a grateful flash of a smile, but she sat as far away from him as she could and wouldn’t look him directly in the eye. Chris didn’t mind the silence, but her tension grew palpable with each passing minute. “What you said was right, Miss Wren. We weren’t properly introduced. I’m Chris Gregor. I had some business in Chicago and am on my way home. How about you?”

“Forgive my curiosity, but will there be a wife, children, a few dogs, and a crop waiting?”

He chuckled softly. “No, ma’am. My work involves a fair bit of traveling. I built a house in town, and my brothers live across the street from one another. I thought to take you to Rob and his wife. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose on them!”

“Mercy’d be tickled pink to have you there. She’s got a wee little daughter and another on the way. Now suppose you tell me about yourself, starting with your full name.”

“I’m truly not of any interest, Mr. Gregor. My name is Kathryn Regent. I’m a very drab spinster.”

He thought it interesting she chose the adjective
drab
, since that was the very one he’d mentally assigned to her. Nevertheless, it would be terribly rude to confirm her assertion. Instead, he moved his boot half an inch as he wondered aloud, “How’d you ever get stuck getting called Wren?”

“It’s from my school days. I’ve always been plain as can be with unremarkable brown hair. I’m not very big, either. Given the last syllable of my given name and likeness, the name was inevitable.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Wrens might be wee little birds, but they sing a grand song. Do you?”

Wrapping her arms about her ribs, she curled forward a bit and shrugged. Her bonnet shaded her face entirely, so he couldn’t read her expression. In a dull tone, she whispered, “I haven’t had call to sing in a long while.”

He fought the wild urge to pull her close and soothe her. He simply reached over and hitched her shawl up a bit toward her nape. “Dinna worry anymore, little Songbird. I’m taking you to a bonny new nest.”

A short while later, Kathryn stretched a little and looked down at her brooch. The tin heart nestled a small timepiece in its center. She squinted and sighed. “Excuse me, Mr. Gregor, but I can’t quite manage to tell the time. Do you have an estimate?”

He glanced down at the shadows. “Close to half past three.”

“I don’t mean to tell you your business, but shouldn’t we be going due south?”

“Not a chance.”

A frisson of fear danced up her spine. After steadying herself with a deep breath, Kathryn pulled her shawl more closely about herself.

“You getting cold, Miss Regent?”

“No.”

“You’re shivering.”

She heaved a sigh. “Frankly, Mr. Gregor, I’m concerned. I’m not particularly good at remembering directions, but the nearest towns were almost due south of us as we set out.”

“Aye, that they were.”

Her hand fisted in her lap. “Without my glasses, I can’t see well at all, but the shadows make me think we’re traveling southeast.”

“Aye.”

His casual tone alarmed her even more. “What must you be thinking? We could have sought the relative safety of a town and spent the night under proper circumstances.”

“I told you Dogtail was like Sodom and Gomorrah, all rolled into one.” His tone made it clear he considered his outrageous plan to be perfectly reasonable. “ ’Twas the first town, and I’d be a fool to take you there. You’ll have to take my word that neither safety nor proper circumstances are to be found there.”

Shawl edges fisted in her hands and pressed to her breastbone. She croaked, “Do you mean to tell me you planned for us to remain unchaperoned for the night?”

T
hat’s about the size of it.”

“Oh, dear Gussy!”

“There’s nothing sweeter than bedrolling under the night sky, Miss Regent. It feels like angels are peeping at you from behind each and every star.”

“Sweet Almighty, might You please arrange for one of them to be my guardian angel?” Wren hadn’t realized she’d spoken her prayer aloud until she heard Mr. Gregor’s chuckle. Scorching heat rushed from her bodice clear up to her sunbonnet.

“Dinna be mortified, lass,” he said once his laughter died down. “I canna blame you for being a shade man-shy. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll keep to one side of the campfire, and you can have the other. Does that ease your mind a bit?”

“No.” She turned toward him. “You know I have that money. Since we’d stop at my request, I’ll gladly pay for two hotel rooms.”

“We’re nowhere near a hotel, and we’ll be even farther from one by the time we stop tonight. You’ll have to put up with things as they are.”

Her heart thundered, and she could taste the salt of her own blood from having bitten the inside of her cheek.

“I appreciate a fine tune now and then, Miss Regent. Why don’t you promise me you’ll sing a bit as soon as I manage to bring down our supper?”

The way he switched subjects took her off guard. “Are you suggesting I sing for my supper, sir?”

His voice lilted with humor. “Could be.”

“I’ll sing whatever you request as soon as we reach the hotel.”

He made an exasperated sound. “Nagging willna change what canna be changed.”

“Had I known you intended not to have proper evening arrangements, I’d never have come with you.”

“You can trust me.”

Kathryn shook her head. “I have yet to meet a trustworthy man.”

His head swiveled toward her. He dipped close so she could see his piercing gray-blue eyes. “You have now.”

She gasped and held that breath for so long, her lungs started to burn.
Should I apologize? No, I’m not. I won’t. Thanks to him, I lost my job. Now he’s compromising my reputation. Why should I think he’s
—

“I’m not perfect.” His Scottish burr sounded far more pronounced. “Nae, I’m no’. But ne’er once hae I harmed a woman. And ere ye ask, I’ll confess I’ve tangled wi’ a few men—and then, only because they’d broken the law or hurt someone.”

I knew it. He’s a bounty hunter
.

“I’m accountable to the Lord for all I do. Rest assured, I’ll not hae to stand afore the Almighty on Reckoning Day and say I e’er took advantage of a lass. You’re perfectly safe wi’ me.” He nodded for emphasis. “Aye, you are. And I’ll e’en give ye my Bowie knife to clutch during the night. ’Tis wicked sharp.”

His offer didn’t amount to enough to allay her fears, but she’d have a means to fend him off if necessary.

“I’d give it to you now, but I might hae need of it to see to supper.”

Kathryn still didn’t trust him. He could talk until the Second Coming, but they were just words.

Mr. Gregor heaved a prolonged sigh. She knew it was for her benefit. He leaned closer, and she fought the nearly overwhelming urge to slap him and scream. Just as quickly, he straightened back up. He’d removed his knife from his belt sheath and placed it in her lap. “Here. I’ve used it on occasion to shave and near cut my throat. I hold a healthy respect for that blade. Now will you calm down a mite?”

Curling her fingers around the bone shaft sent waves of relief through her. Nonetheless, Kathryn didn’t want to discuss her fears. She thought it over and promised herself not to repeat the mistakes she’d made in town. By being meek, she’d given men an opportunity to push her into a bad situation. With no alternative, she’d made the best of it.
No more. I’m not going to do that again. I’ve learned my lesson
.

Kathryn chose to redirect the conversation herself. “Mr. Gregor, I’d best tell you I’m not a woman to touch a snake. Should you kill one, you’ll need to prepare and eat it on your own.”

His brows went skyward. “You plan to cook our supper?”

“I presumed that to be the plan. If you hunt it, I think it only just that I prepare the meal.”

“Do you even know how to cook over an open fire?”

“As long as it’s not raining, I can give a fair accounting of myself.”

Chris smacked his thigh. “Grand! A lass from the city who can do more than scorch coffee and burn meat over a fire.”

Just how many women has he had cook for him under the stars
? She worried afresh for her safety.

The buckboard jounced along the rutted road, and even at their slow pace, the horses kicked up a fair amount of dust and grit. Chris produced a canteen and offered it to her. She took a dainty sip before handing it back. “Thank you.”

“Drink as much as you’d like, Miss Regent. I packed two kegs of water, and we’ve a jug of apple cider, too.”

She took another drink, then reached for the reins so he could have his share.

“I’ve got it.” He tilted his head and drank deeply. After capping the canteen, he set it aside. “You didna eat this noon.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The way he stared at her made her want to writhe.

“You’re starting to wilt in the sun, Songbird. A short rest in the shade and a bite to eat’ll perk you right up. When folks travel, they have to be careful, and they have to be up front about things. You’re starting to feel poorly, and I was hoping you’d tell me yourself instead of me having to bring it up.”

“I may not be at my best, but I’m scarcely ill.”

“You’re splitting hairs. I’ll not scold you for this, but I’ll get riled if you pull such a stunt again.” He halted the wagon, leapt off, and reached up to help her down.

As his hands cupped around her middle, Kathryn tried to hide her surprise. For the past year, she’d not left town. The simple contact of a man spanning her waist hit her with stunning force. His fingers moved to give him a better grip, then clamped more tightly. She lightly rested her hands on his shoulders to help balance herself. Mr. Gregor gently lifted, pivoted sideways, and lowered her. For a brief second, they were eye to eye. She saw kindness in his eyes, then a flash of anger. She found herself suffering the embarrassing position of being held several inches above the dirt.

“You’re nothing more than skin and bones!”

“Sir, you forget yourself! You’ve no call to be so appallingly personal.”

Instead of setting her down as she fully expected him to, Chris Gregor swung her up and took better hold of her by sliding an arm beneath her knees. “You’re not walking until I get you fed. If I put you down, you’d fall flat on your face!”

“You’re exaggera—”

“I told you I dinna split hairs. If you believe you’ve got room to talk me out of my observation, you’d best think again.” He set her down in the shade of a shrubby-looking hackberry. “Best for you to have something straight off. We’ll cook at suppertime. For now, jerked beef and some apples might do, along with some bread. Stay put.”

Kathryn watched him stalk off to the buckboard. He knew what he was doing, because he quickly located the desired food and brought it back. Everything about Chris Gregor struck her as self-assured and capable. He got a little too domineering with her, so she’d have to stand her ground. To his credit, he’d gotten her away from Mr. Hepplewhite, but would he settle her anyplace better? Only time would reveal an answer to her thorny questions.

After she ate enough to satisfy him, they were under way again. Mr. Gregor leaned toward her and asked in a conversational tone, “Just how well can you see without your spectacles?”

“I’m blind as a badger.”

He chuckled. “That was alliterative but not informative in the least. Suppose you wax a bit less poetic and a heap more practical. What distance do you see well, and when do you lose your focus?”

She held out her arm three-quarters of the way. “I can see well this far. The horse is hazy, and I can only see a blur of brown and green beyond him.”