his grain to see a woman go hungry.
The last bite disappeared past her lips and she sighed, savoring the flavor. “Thanks, Tolliver. That was good.” She straightened, her blue eyes focusing on him. “Do you have an extra cup? That coffee smells wonderful.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Dig one outta that bundle.” Motioning with his thumb, he sent her in the direction of his mule, where another pack lay open on the ground, having yielded cooking utensils and matches for the fire.
She rose gingerly, as if various aches and pains had made themselves known, and stepped to where his supplies were stashed. Squatting, she sorted carefully through his belongings, as if she would touch only what he had given permission for. A metal cup filled her hand and she turned back to where he sat. He’d filled his own cup to the brim and waited, coffeepot in hand, for her return.
“Thanks.” She lowered herself to the ground, watching carefully lest she spill the steaming brew, as if unwilling to waste a drop of it. Her hands curled around the cup, shifting from the heat as she sipped, then she placed it on the ground beside her.
“Where’d you come from?” He’d leaned back, tilting his hat forward a bit, his eyes in shadow.
“Does it matter?” she asked, her lashes fluttering as she lowered her gaze to the fire.
“Nope, I reckon not” Sipping once more at his coffee, he narrowed his eyes, silently assessing her appearance. She was young, probably not yet twenty.
Her clothing had been well made, but the dress had undergone a heap of wear and tear. And then there was the matter of a lack of shoes. Her feet were dirty and bruised up a bit, now that he took a good look at them. Maybe she had walked barefoot after all. At least ten miles, if he had it figured right.
“Loco Junction.” She cast him a sidelong glance as she offered the information. “But I’m not going back there.”
“Your choice.” His shrug signified his uninterest. And then his next words belied the gesture. “Looks to me like you’re on the run, honey.”
“Maybe.” She glanced up at him, catching his sardonic grin, and she flushed, her chin tilting defensively. “I’m on the run.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m not going back.”
“Somebody after you?”
She looked up quickly, peering to see his eyes beneath the wide brim of his hat. “I hope not. But I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
“You steal anything?” Withdrawing a narrow-bladed knife from its sheath inside his boot, he inspected his fingernails, then cleaned them as she watched.
“I’ve never stolen anything in my life.” She lifted her cup and drank the dregs of coffee, savoring the last drops.
“You in bad trouble?” Glancing up, he caught the quickly indrawn breath, the telltale flaring of her nostrils as she searched for an answer to his query.
“You can just go on and leave me here if you want to. I’ll be fine.” Her mouth was set in a thin line, her jaw firm, her eyes trained on his left shoulder.
His laugh was rasping as he considered her chances, adrift in this country. Northern Texas was raw, rough territory, not fit for a woman alone.
“You got any idea how long you’d last out here by yourself?” he asked, his long, elegant fingers precise as he slid the knife back inside his boot. He looked up quickly, hoping to catch a stray emotion, perhaps a sign of indecision on that sunburned face. She’d tightened her lips, hiding behind a sullen countenance.
“What are my choices?”
“How old are you, girl?” She made him feel a hundred and one, this child masquerading in a woman’s body. She’d offered no payment for his protection, asked no favors but for the food she’d eaten, leaving herself wide open to the perils inherent to the situation she was in. That he could have had any answers he wanted with a few probing questions, or a threatening movement in her direction, was a fact, he figured.
“What’s your name?” He threw the question in, then felt a twinge of compassion as she frowned at him. The arrogance had not suited her, the indecision did. She’d not lived long enough to build a protective shield, not played poker with men like Will Tolliver.
“Cassie. My name’s Cassie Phillips.” She’d decided to trust him with that much, the indecision fading from her eyes. Her mouth pouted for just a few seconds, and then she told him what he wanted to know. “I’m eighteen…almost.”
“Damn! You’re just a kid. Who turned you loose out here? He needs to be hung by his—” He tugged his hat from his head, his strong fingers plowing through his hair, furrowing the dark, straight length of it.
“I’m not a child. I don’t need anyone.” She delivered the ultimatum in a terse undertone, her teeth gritting on the final words, and he was unwillingly touched by the stalwart strength of her.
“Well, I’m headin’ north.” He’d made her an offer. If she took it, so be it If she wanted to dillydally around in this godforsaken spot between two hellholes, he’d—
“Are you saying you’ll take me along?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I’ll take you along till we can find a place for you to stay. Maybe some preacher and his wife somewhere along the way will give you a home, let you work for your keep.” He latched on to the thought. It sounded respectable, plausible even.
She considered it, her eyes calculating, and once more he was amused by the transparency of her features. “I’m not overly fond of preachers.”
“One of ‘em chase you out of town?”
Her flush was indignant. “Hardly. Loco Junction didn’t welcome decent ministers. The only one I’ve seen lately was the one who came knocking on our door late one night, hoping to find my mother home alone.” Her mouth tightened and she closed her eyes, as if that particular memory still rankled.
He nodded. “All right. We’ll figure something else out. Maybe a farmer. Maybe you could work in a store.” Cassie looked doubtful, and Will shook his head. He’d about run out of ideas, and the ones he’d proposed hadn’t been much to speak of. But he added, “Since we’ll be traveling together, you’d better call me Will.”
She sure was a piece of work, with that long hair and curvy backside. His mouth drew down as he forced that thought from his head. Clearly the girl was an innocent, yet he was hard put to rid his mind of the memory of a softly rounded breast and long slender legs, wrapped in a sopping wet dress.
She was a temptation, all right. But one he had no business dwelling on, if he planned to carry her with him. And it looked as if he was about to do that very thing.
She’d awakened twice during the night from the same nightmare, her heart pounding, her eyes searching
