something right.”
Eliza squeaked before she could stop herself. It sounded so silly and childish, bringing a heat to her cheeks she could only hope he attributed to the fire.
“I don’t think that’s a subject we should speak of.” Eliza nearly cringed at how prim she sounded, almost like the mothers in her ward who used to chastise her.
“Obviously you ain’t spent a lot of time around campfires and cowboys then, have you?” He peered at her from beneath his hat. “Bedsport is what they jaw about.”
“Ah, well, it’s a very good thing I am not a cowboy then. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to read before I retired for the night.” Her mouth was drier than sand, and she wondered if she would ever feel comfortable around Mr. Wolfe.
“Are you a schoolmarm or something?”
Eliza couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted from her throat. “A schoolmarm? No, definitely not. I am a student, not a teacher.” She had no patience to teach anyone, especially the LDS teachings she didn’t agree with.
“Who is your teacher then?” He pushed up the brim of his hat to stare at her, his dark eyes more intense than the deepest embers of the fire.
“He-he died a while back. I continue on learning though.” She again tried to distract the man. His unceasing perusal made her want to squirm, so she looked away and loaded the fire with wood. “I’ll just put my book away so we can both get some sleep then.” She managed a weak smile and tucked the blanket around herself, turning her back on Mr. Wolfe.
His gaze was palpable, burning into her skin like the fire she’d built. It seemed like hours until her eyes finally closed in exhaustion, and her dreams were plagued with uneasy images of dark creatures and danger.
Chapter Two
“You’re going to have to wake up some time, so it might as well be now.”
Eliza started awake, momentarily confused by the cold morning air, the unfamiliar surroundings, the hard ground beneath, and the man standing over her with the biggest knife she’d ever seen.
A gasp flew from her mouth, and she was instantly and completely awake as if she’d had a bucket of cold water thrown over her. Heart pounding like a bass drum, she finally got a clear view of Grady Wolfe. He was tall and whipcord thin, with wide-set shoulders and long limbs, likely giving him a great reach, agility, and speed.
She stared at his face. Each piece was nothing special, but together made Grady absolutely striking. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, barely a distinction between the pupil and the iris. They were velvet pools of dark ice set in gaunt cheeks with at least three days’ worth of whiskers. A dirty hat covered waves of brown hair brushing his collar. His lips were set in a tight line, almost as sharp as the knife in his hand.
Grady Wolfe was positively frightening.
“Mr. Wolfe?” Eliza didn’t know how she managed to actually form the words with her stiff lips. And she had thought she had been scared last night. Obviously she had no idea what being truly scared really was.
“What the hell are you doing, Just Miss Eliza?” He frowned fiercely, his eyebrows slammed together so hard she almost heard the snap.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She sat up, pushing hair out of her face and trying to appear normal, whatever that meant. The last thing she should do is cower like a little mouse facing a big cat.
“You were following me, don’t deny it. I want to know why.” He fingered the tang of the blade, sending a shiver up her spine at the caress.
“I-I wasn’t following you. I was traveling alone and you happened to be riding ahead of me.” She didn’t even believe herself.
Apparently he didn’t, either. “You were in the alley near the saloon. I saw you. Then when I left town, you were right behind me. Don’t shovel any more shit at me.”
Although she was shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth, Eliza knew she couldn’t admit what she had been doing. Something told her giving into his bullying would be the absolute wrong thing to do.
“The fact you saw me in town doesn’t mean I was following you. That’s ridiculous logic.” She rose to her feet, intent on holding her ground, feigning ignorance. “I wasn’t being disingenuous about my intents.”
“Using a five-dollar word ain’t gonna change a thing, woman. You need to get your ass back on your horse and go back to town. There must be some foolish man out there looking for you.”
Eliza held back the blush by force of will. If only he knew her father didn’t care about her other than his meal being late. No doubt he had all kinds of punishment scheduled for her, including penance on her knees for days.
“I assure you, there’s no one worried about me. I am traveling in the same direction as you, a pure coincidence.” Hoping he didn’t notice the trembling in her hands, Eliza tried to pick up her saddle, but found herself on her fanny in the dirt instead. It didn’t occur to her that the saddle she lifted off the stall wall the day before would be heavier when lifted from the ground. It was simple science, of course, and Eliza was embarrassed she hadn’t come to the conclusion earlier.
“That just proves to me you don’t belong out here, Just Miss Eliza.” He picked up her saddle as if it weighed nothing and plopped it on the horse’s back, dead center on the blanket. The man was stronger than he looked. After cinching the saddle with expert speed, he grabbed her bags, then immediately dropped the larger one. “Jesus Christ, what’s in here?”
Eliza forgot to be scared for a moment when her most precious possessions were in danger. “Be careful! That contains my books.”
He poked the bag. “Books? You’re out here with coyotes and scorpions and you got a bag of damn books? What the hell is wrong with you?”
His words should have stung, but Eliza was more annoyed than insulted. “I’ll thank you to give my books the proper respect, Mr. Wolfe. These are very precious to me.” She pulled the bag across the dusty ground, away from the toes of his boots.
“Go back to town, or I’ll tie you to a tree and leave you here.” He slid the big knife into its scabbard on his hip.
“I’m heading west, Mr. Wolfe, whether or not you want me to.” She swallowed the big lump in her throat with effort.
He stalked toward her, that lean-hipped swagger making her want to turn tail and run. Leaning in close, he puffed out a breath, which smelled like coffee and tobacco, the heat a strangely welcome feeling in the cold morning air.
“What the hell do you want, Eliza?”
It seemed strange to have any man use her given name, much less a man like Grady Wolfe. She was used to being called Sister Hunter or Daughter, but only Angeline called her Eliza. The reminder made her courage return in equal measure to combat her fear. Then her imagination took over and saved her.
“Fine then, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m a widow with no means to support myself.”
“You could sell the books,” he mumbled under his breath.
“My
