better believe it!”
She nudged her heels against the horse’s side to keep him in line with the front of the wagon. Whether Hawk McClain was teasing her or was dead serious, at least he’d quit assuming she was totally helpless. For a man like him, that was pretty good progress, considering they barely knew each other.
“I never shoot animals for sport,” she warned. “Only when we need food.”
There was genuine admiration in his tone when he said, “You’d make a good Indian. Little Rabbit Woman would have liked you a lot.”
“Who?”
“Little Rabbit Woman. She was my Arapaho wife,” Connell said quietly. “In another life. She died a long time ago.”
Empathy flooded Faith’s heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“I believe you actually mean that.”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because she was an Indian and I’m not. Lots of folks would hold that against me.”
“Do you think Irene will?”
Connell shook his head, a look of benevolence and calm on his face. “No. Not Irene. We haven’t seen each other in years, but I wrote and told her all about my past with the Arapaho before she made the final decision to travel to California to finally marry me.”
“I’m glad,” Faith said. “That speaks well of her.”
“Yes,” he said with a lopsided smile that made his eyes sparkle. “It speaks well of you, too, Faith Beal.”
Chapter Five
The tight bindings around Faith’s midsection were chafing in the heat something fierce by the time the wagons stopped for nooning. Normally, she and Charity shared a cooking fire with the Ledbetters and the Johnsons, but this afternoon the reception she received from the others when she approached was decidedly unfriendly.
In pain and more than a little put out, she returned to the solitude of her wagon.
Connell had finished putting the mules with the other stock being herded out to graze and was about to remove his horse’s saddle. The dejected look on Faith’s face made him stop what he was doing and go to her.
Gently, he touched her shoulder, then quickly stepped away and apologized for the undue familiarity.
“No need to worry,” Faith said with a shrug. “Thanks to the captain’s lies, everybody thinks I’m a soiled dove already.”
“A sporting woman?” Connell laughed aloud. “You?”
“You think I’m not pretty enough? I don’t blame you.”
“Hey. Hold your horses. I never meant anything of the kind. It’s simply obvious to me that you’re one of the most honest, upright women I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine how anyone would believe such idiotic rumors.”
Faith held herself proud in spite of the lingering soreness around her middle. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now that we have that settled, what’s for dinner? I’m starved.”
She sighed and made a disgusted face. “We’ll have to kindle our own fire. I’m afraid I’m no longer welcome at the others’ camps.”
“Their loss,” Connell said. He glanced at the calf-hide “possum belly” strung under the wagon to make sure it contained enough kindling and dry buffalo chips for Faith to start a fire without having to go out gathering. “So, what do you fancy? Rabbit, antelope or sage grouse?”
Raising an eyebrow, she began to smile. “You’re going hunting? Now?”
“Unless you’ve figured out a way to get the critters to jump into the pot on their own.”
“Very funny. Just bring back whatever you see and I’ll cook it, no questions asked.”
“That could be dangerous.”
She laughed. “Not with you eating out of the same kettle. Now, skedaddle. I’m hungry, too.”
Watching him mount up and ride away, she sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward, adding a postscript plea for his missing bride’s safety. If Tucker was truly involved in the woman’s disappearance, no telling what had become of her. Faith hoped, for Hawk’s sake, that he was wrong about that possibility. Perhaps Irene had simply found herself a husband among the emigrants on her train and gone off to wherever that man was bound.
But what if Tucker had been her choice? Faith thought the idea quite discomfiting. And what of Charity? If there was even the slightest chance that the captain was guilty of purposeful harm, how was she going to protect someone as innocent and gullible—and stubborn—as her sister?
Faith glanced at the communal fire where Charity was assisting in the preparation of the large noon meal. It was no great surprise to see Ramsey Tucker’s horse tied to a nearby wagon.
Angry that she’d been rendered powerless by circumstances beyond her control, Faith began to lay a separate cooking fire. Her mind was whirling and darting like the eddies in a fast-moving mountain stream. Too bad she couldn’t really tie Charity up till they reached their destination, the way Anna had jokingly suggested.
Other than doing exactly that, she had no idea how she was going to save her from herself. None at all.
While her new boon companion was away, Faith managed to bake corn bread in the Dutch oven and also boil a pot of beans using side-pork for flavoring. When Connell returned, they added a spit and roasted the hare he’d bagged. All in all, the meal was as tasty as any she’d eaten in a long time, due in part, she was sure, to the good company.
Hoisting the nearly full bean pot by its wire handle, Connell stored it in a box packed with straw in the rear of the Beal wagon. Thus secured, it would ride safely and continue to cook from its own internal heat for some time, making it easy to fix supper after the long day of travel still ahead of them.
When he saw Faith grimace as she bent to clean their dishes, he went to her and crouched down by her side. “Let me do that.”
Wide-eyed, she looked at him as if he’d handed her a poke full of gold nuggets. “You? Why?”
“Because it pains you.”
“It’s woman’s work,” she said.
“A man learns to do lots of things when he’s on his own in the wilderness. Let’s make a bargain. You go hunting next time and I’ll help with your chores now.”
“Don’t be silly.” She scrubbed harder, her hands flying over the gray surface of the tinware.
“I’m not. You claim you can shoot straight.”
“I can, but…”
“But, what?” Taking the dish
