and the animal spooked, bucking and unseating its rider.
Mattie rushed forward and snatched up the dangling reins to control the horse, keeping it from trampling the rider beneath its hooves. “Easy,” she soothed the frightened animal.
Scrambling out of danger, the man climbed to his feet and yelled an obscenity at his mount. He drew back his arm to strike its hindquarters with a short leather crop. The horse’s eyes rolled and it danced to the side, a sure sign that the crop had been used on him before.
“Stop!” She had no respect for anyone who would mistreat a defenseless animal. Inflicting pain on the horse was the mark of a weak man. In her outrage, she forgot to speak in a deep voice, and she hastily lowered her pitch. “It’s not the horse’s fault.” She stroked the animal’s velvet-soft nose to calm it.
The man turned angry eyes toward her. “You are correct,” he bit out in a clear-cut British accent. “The fault lies with you.”
She trembled inside, but stood her ground. He angled away from the horse, raising his crop toward her, instead.
She had only a moment to regret her impulsive intervention. Ducking her head, she raised her arm in defense and waited for the blow to fall.
* * *
Josiah Dawson caught the crop in midair before it could make contact with the slight young man he’d seen talking to the wagon master a short time ago. The kid’s shaggy brown hair was cut in uneven hunks, and his baggy clothes appeared two sizes too big for his frame, as if he hadn’t quite grown into them, yet.
Josiah could understand why Miles had expressed reservations about allowing this boy to join the group. Only a few minutes had passed since that conversation and already the kid was mired in a sticky situation, taking on a man almost twice his size.
Josiah was reminded of the Bible story about David and Goliath. Only this boy didn’t have even a slingshot for protection.
Deliver the poor and needy; rid them out of the hand of the wicked.
The verse running through Josiah’s mind, he faced off against the aggressor. “Not a good idea, Hardwick.”
The other man puffed up like a riled rooster. “You will address me as Lord Hardwick, as is proper.” He paused, allowing time for Josiah to correct the error. But when he realized no bootlicking was forthcoming, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “My father is the Earl of Fenton, and I will not be taken to task by one so far beneath me. I intend to teach this boy to show the proper respect for his betters, and you would be wise to stay out of matters which do not concern you, Dawson.”
Josiah didn’t back down. “Miles Carpenter has a rule against violence between members of his group. If he hears about this incident he might rethink whether you’re the type of person he wants to spend the next several months with.”
“I do not answer to him,” the other man countered.
If this pretentious Brit didn’t know the wagon master’s rules were law on the trail, he would soon learn that lesson. “Well, see now, that’s where you’re wrong. The same rules apply to you as everybody else. You’re not in England anymore. Your daddy’s name has no sway here—we judge people on their actions, not their family trees. And Miles Carpenter will do what’s in the best interest of the group. Now, do you want him to decide that’s you finding another way to get to Oregon Country? Or are you going to leave the boy alone?”
Hardwick glared in silence for a moment before jerking the crop out of Josiah’s grip. Though they were fairly evenly matched in size, Josiah hoped to avoid a physical altercation. He tensed, waiting for Hardwick’s next move. But the Brit didn’t raise his crop to strike again. Instead, he snatched his horse’s reins from the young man’s loose hold, yanking cruelly on the animal’s tender mouth. He stalked away without another word to either Josiah or the kid.
Josiah bent down and retrieved the errant hat, knocking it against his thigh to remove some of the dust, then extended it toward the boy.
Miles had confided that he suspected the newest member of their group had exaggerated his age in order to join the wagon train. Josiah was inclined to agree. The boy’s beardless chin certainly belied the claim that he was nineteen.
Accepting the hat, he placed it on his head and pulled the brim low to shade his face. “Thank you for that,” he offered in a gruff voice.
Josiah understood he meant more than the return of his headwear. “Steer clear of Hardwick from now on.”
“I will.”
He hoped the kid took his words to heart. Still, Josiah was impressed with a scrappy fighter who waded in against injustice despite the odds. It reminded him of his former self. He’d been orphaned when he was just a few years younger than he guessed this boy to be.
Almost a dozen years had passed since then, but he well remembered getting in over his head and needing someone to step in to help. In his case, his older half brother, Elias, had come to his aid. And though he was now a grown man, Josiah appreciated his brother’s continued support. Which was why he’d agreed to join Elias and his wife, Rebecca, on this journey.
Only a few short months ago, Josiah had completely different plans. But things had changed, and those dreams were gone. He’d lost the woman who held his heart and his best friend in the same day—but not to death. There was a wall between them. And though it was of Josiah’s own making, he couldn’t scale it. It was better that he left.
With nothing for him back in Tennessee, he welcomed the new life that waited out west. And the next few months would be much easier with others to share the load.
But this young kid had no one he could depend on to watch his back. Plus, he had a younger sister to look out for.
“I’m Matt Prescott.” The boy stuck out his hand.
He accepted the handshake. “Josiah Dawson.”
Matt dug the toe of his boot into the dirt, keeping his head down and his face hidden from view. “So, we’ll be traveling together, I guess.”
“Looks that way.” If the kid could keep himself out of trouble and avoid getting kicked out of their wagon train.
“Don’t worry that you’ll have to bail me out of any more scrapes. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“That’s good to hear. Just see that you remember to stop and think before going off half-cocked. Your sister’s depending on you.”
Matt’s head came up and a look of surprise flashed across his face.
“Miles mentioned it’s just you and your sister,” Josiah explained.
“Oh.” He seemed discomfited to find he’d been a topic of conversation. “Well, I better get going now. Thank you again.”
Josiah’s eyes narrowed as Matt hurried away. With his focus initially on Hardwick, he’d only gotten a brief glimpse of the kid’s face before it disappeared beneath his hat brim. And afterward Matt had appeared reluctant to meet his gaze. Maybe the boy was simply shy. But Josiah didn’t quite believe that explanation. Not after Matt had confronted the haughty Brit deliberately.
But if the
