“Yep. Lock, stock and barrel.” Somebody had to support the family and for now she was it.
“Seems a mighty big responsibility.”
She stiffened. “For a woman, you mean.”
He glanced up and his expression reflected friendly curiosity, nothing more. “No offense, but I admit I find it an unorthodox arrangement.”
Did he believe this was how she’d planned for her life to turn out? “It’s a family business—my pa passed it on to me.” She jutted her chin out. “Like you said earlier, we do what needs doing. I can handle it.”
He grinned. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
For some reason that response bothered her more than anything else he’d said since they’d started this strange conversation.
She jammed her hands in her pockets. Did he think less of her because she wasn’t some soft, helpless female who needed a man looking out for her?
Not that she gave a hoot for his opinion. After all, she barely knew the man.
Jo did her best to ignore the niggling voice in her head that chided her for not being completely honest with herself.
Chapter Three
As he saddled the horse, Ry eyed the livery operator from the corner of his eye. Why in the world was she so prickly?
True, he had mistaken her for a man at first, but she didn’t know that. And he’d stepped in to defend her brother at no small personal risk. Why, he hadn’t even haggled over the outrageous price she’d demanded for the use of her horse.
Still, he couldn’t forget he’d actually let this woman—a member of the fairer sex for all her rough edges—face down a pair of armed thugs while he’d stood by.
His gut clenched every time he thought about it. It was an unforgivable act, going against everything he’d been taught about duty and honor. So he was willing to give her more than the usual bit of leeway.
He felt her gaze studying him as he worked, could almost see the questions forming in her mind.
Finally, she broke the silence. “I suppose you’re anxious to get your business taken care of so you can spend Thanksgiving at home.”
Home. Ry paused, patting the horse absently. Lately he’d been trying to figure out exactly where that was—in Philadelphia with his grandfather or Hawk’s Creek with his brother and sister.
Sometimes he was torn between the two. Other times he felt as if he didn’t belong in either place. And holidays hadn’t felt special or festive in a very long time.
He gave himself a mental shake. Time enough to work through that problem after he saw Belle. And Miss Wylie was watching him curiously, expecting a response. “My family’s not big on holiday celebrations.”
That earned him a surprised frown, but no further comment. Instead, she moved across the stable and grabbed a bedroll. Retracing her steps, she hefted it onto the stall next to him. “Quinlinn is between here and Foxberry. You should reach it well before dark, but if you end up having to sleep on the trail you’ll need this. Gets cold at night this time of year.”
He grinned. “Believe me, this is mild compared to New England.”
Far from setting her at ease, his words deepened her scowl. It had been a while since he’d found it so difficult to coax a smile from a woman. But it seemed he couldn’t say anything to charm this one.
Well, so be it. The bedroll would come in handy since he wasn’t planning to stop in Quinlinn. He’d push on as far as he could until darkness made traveling dangerous, then get up with the first lightening of the sky. The sooner he reached Foxberry, the sooner he could get the answers he wanted.
He had to hand it to Miss Wylie, though. He gathered she was her family’s provider—a responsibility she appeared to take seriously. Even if life had set him on a different path, he could certainly respect that.
How big a family was it? He’d already met Danny and she’d mentioned a sister. Were there more?
“You got any kind of weapon with you?”
He raised a brow at her unexpected question, then reached into his coat and pulled out his pocket pistol. “I carry this when I travel.”
She surprised him with an unladylike snort. “That peashooter won’t be much protection on the trail.” Moving with quick strides, she retrieved the rifle she’d wielded earlier. “Here, take this. Never know what kind of varmints you’ll meet up with—and I don’t mean just the four-legged kind.”
Ry slipped his unjustly-maligned derringer back inside his coat. The double-barreled pocket pistol was more formidable than it appeared. “Don’t you need that rifle yourself?” He wasn’t about to compound his first blunder by riding off with her best means of protection.
But she shrugged off his concern. “I’ve got another one.” A nod toward the far wall indicated a second rifle.
He studied her a moment, noting her earnest expression, the tightly concealed concern lurking in her eyes. It appeared she was making a peace offering and it would be rude to brush it aside.
He took the weapon. “Thanks. I’ll return it when I bring the horse back.”
She nodded. “Once you leave Quinlinn in the morning, it’ll be an easy half day’s ride to Foxberry.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t imagine you’ve had lunch yet.” She fiddled with a straw she’d plucked from the pitchfork. “If you were of a mind to remedy that before you head out, you could head over to the boardinghouse. Just tell my sister I—”
Ry held up a hand. “Thanks, but I’ll just purchase a few supplies from the mercantile and head out.” The itch to be on his way had returned with a vengeance. He’d wasted too much time already.
He mounted the horse, gathered the reins and turned to say a quick goodbye. Then paused.
She’d shoved her hands in her overall pockets and stood watching him. For just a moment, despite her outspokenness, Ry sensed something wistful, something almost vulnerable about the unorthodox female. He had the strangest urge to climb back down and lift some of the weight from her shoulders.
Which was strange. She wasn’t at all the sort of girl he was usually attracted to.
Then she straightened and her eyes narrowed. “You take good care of Scout, you hear. I raised him from a colt and I’d take it poorly if you let something happen to him.”
So much for his instincts. There was nothing vulnerable about this woman. If he offered to help her she’d no doubt throw the offer back in his teeth. And Belle, who actually wanted his help, was waiting in Foxberry.
“Don’t worry.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll treat him as if he were my own prize thoroughbred. See you in about a week or so.” With that, he set the horse in motion.
