bags. “The books are all of what’s left of Ephraim.” Her throat closed up at the truth of her words even if she was using the memory of him to tell a falsehood.
Grady stared at her in that intense manner of his. Eliza wanted to squirm, but she didn’t even reach up to wipe her eyes.
“You have no other family?”
“Some distant relations.” She was at least being somewhat honest about that since Angeline was physically distant.
“Where are these relations of yours?” He fingered the grip of the pistol hanging on his hip. Her gaze was absolutely glued to the small gesture. She doubted a man like Grady touched his gun for effect—when he touched it, it was for a purpose.
She only hoped she wasn’t that purpose.
Eliza attempted to swallow her dry spit. “West, but I’m not sure where. I was hoping to find them without help.” Now that wasn’t the entire truth of course.
“Glad to hear it. Stop following me and stay out of my way.” He threw himself into the saddle with the agility she recognized from the night before. Without a backward glance, Grady Wolfe rode away hard, leaving Eliza alone.
“Phooey,” she whispered, suddenly more nervous than she was when she started following him.
Grady had never met a woman like Eliza, if that was even really her name. She talked like a professor, rode around with twenty pounds of books, and could build a campfire like nobody’s business. Yet she was as innocent as a child, had a sad story about a dead husband he didn’t believe for a second, and seemed to be waiting for him to invite her along for his hunt.
He snorted at the thought. Grady worked alone, always and for good. There sure as hell was no room for anyone, much less a woman like Eliza.
He had damn well tried his best to shake the woman, but the blue-eyed raven-haired fool wouldn’t budge. Truth be told, he was impressed by her bravado, but disgusted by his inability to shake her off his tail the night before. Rather than risk having her do the same thing again, he decided to ride like hell and leave her behind. He should have felt guilty, but he’d left that emotion behind, along with most every other, a long time ago. Grady had a job to complete and that was all that mattered to him.
The only thing he was concerned about was finding the wayward wife he’d been hired to hunt and making sure she regretted leaving her husband, at least for the five seconds she lived after he found her.
Grady learned as a young man just how much he couldn’t trust the fairer sex. His mother had been his teacher, and he’d been a very astute pupil. No doubt if she hadn’t drank herself to death, she’d still be out there somewhere taking advantage of and using men as she saw fit.
The cool morning air gave way to warm sunshine within a few hours. He refused to think about what the schoolmarm was doing, or if anything had been done to her. If she could take care of her horse and build a fire, she could take care of herself. Food could be gotten at any small town, but then again maybe she could hunt and fish, too.
Somehow it wouldn’t surprise him if she did. The woman seemed to have a library in her head. Against his will, the sight of her unbound hair popped into his head. It had been long, past her waist to brush against the nicely curved backside. Grady preferred his women with some meat on their bones, better to hang on to when he had one beneath him, or riding him. He shifted in the saddle as his dick woke up at the thought of Eliza’s dark curtain of hair brushing his bare skin.
Jesus Christ, he sure didn’t need to be thinking about fucking the wayward Miss Eliza. If she was a widow, no doubt she’d had experience in bed with a man. It wasn’t Grady’s business of course, so he needed to stop his brain from getting into her bloomers, or any parts of her anatomy.
As the morning wore on, Grady’s mind returned to the contents of her bags. The woman didn’t have a lick of common sense and fell asleep, vulnerable and unprotected. Good thing he didn’t have any bad thoughts on his mind or she wouldn’t have been sleeping. She even snored a little, something he found highly amusing as he’d rifled through her things.
Her smaller bag had contained a hodgepodge of clothes, each uglier and frumpier than the last, a hairbrush, half a dozen biscuits in a tattered napkin, and some hairpins. A measly collection of a woman’s life, and quite pitiful if that was all she had. Perhaps she’d been at least partially truthful about taking everything she owned and hitting the trail. Her husband must have been a poor excuse for a provider if this collection of rags was all she had.
The bag of books was just that, a bag stuffed full of scientific texts ranging from medical topics to some titles he couldn’t even pronounce. In the bottom of the bag was a battered copy of Wuthering Heights. He didn’t know what it was, but it was much smaller than the other books, likely a novel. She obviously put the spectacles to good use judging by the two dozen tomes she had in her bag. He wondered how she’d gotten it up on the saddle in the first place.
“Fool.” He had to stop thinking about Eliza and what she was doing and why. Grady would never see her again.
As a child, Grady learned very early not to care or ask questions. It only bought him a cuff on the ear or a boot in the ass. A boy could only take so much of that before he kept his mouth shut and simply snuck around to find out what he needed to know.
As a young man, it served him well and garnered the attention of the man who taught him how to hunt and kill people in the quickest, most efficient way. Grady had learned his lesson well, even better than his mentor expected. When the job was put before him to hunt and kill the very man who had taught him those skills, Grady hesitated only a minute before he said yes.
The devil rode on his back, a constant companion he’d come to accept. He didn’t need a woman riding there, too.
Eliza spent half an hour trying to get her bags onto the saddle and by then she was sweating and angry—at herself and at Grady Wolfe. He’d scared her, yelled then left her behind.
She’d been sleeping as if nothing could hurt her, somehow safe in Grady’s company, although she’d been sure she was anything but safe. He’d left her and she had to follow.
Eliza spent the time to perform morning ablutions in the creek, so at least the sweat was off her body before she perspired again on the back of the horse. It didn’t matter, though, she needed to get clean if only to feel normal.
After filling her canteen, she was returning from the creek when she saw the snake. Eliza’s breath caught in her throat, and she froze, eye to eye with the serpent. It was light brown with a darker pattern on its back, and its head was diamond shaped. She was never more grateful to have read about snakes in Utah and knew the shape of its head meant the snake was poisonous.
Of course, that meant it could kill her with one strike of its fangs. Fresh sweat rolled down her face as she stood as still as a tree a mere twenty feet from her horse. The snake slithered toward her, its tongue slipping in and out of its mouth. As it slid between her feet, Eliza closed her eyes and pictured Angeline. Her sister was all that mattered, and she had to be strong to help her. If Grady found her before Eliza caught up with him, there was no hope for either one of them.
A soft breeze caressed her face, almost as if someone had cupped her cheek as if she were a child. Her eyes popped open expecting someone to be standing in front of her, but there was no one there. She glanced down and realized the snake was gone.
Her breath came out in
