Beloved Outcast by Pat Tracy

Falls?”
    It was clear to Logan that Victoria Amory did not have the slightest confidence in his abilities to get her safely to civilization. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised by her lack of trust. She had the lowest opinion of him of anyone he’d ever met, and that probably included Colonel Windham.
    She sat next to him with that pitiful scrap of mangled fabric on her head and still managed to appear as composed as a schoolmistress about to call her class to order. He supposed she was just naturally bossy.
    He limited himself to answering, “I’ve lived in the West for a while now.”
    “In these hills?” she asked, obviously still needing reassurance.
    He raised the whip to get the team moving again. “No, I’ve lived in town.”
    No doubt dividing his time between saloons and the city jail, Victoria thought.
    Logan maneuvered the wagon off the road, taking an upward strip of flattened grass that wound northwardthrough the pines. Sharp-needled branches scraped their canvas-covered canopy. The ride became rougher. Miss Amory latched on to the side of her seat like a limpet stuck to a ship’s hull.
    “I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” she said, her voice a virtual squeak. “I don’t have a map we can refer to.”
    “I don’t need a map.”
    “Forgive me for not having more confidence in you,” she began, using that snippy tone of hers. “But I was warned most forcibly by the wagon master to remain on the main road.”
    “You can bet that if he was in our situation, he would try to make himself invisible to the Indians, too.”
    The wagon took another sharp lurch. Victoria almost bounced off her seat. He reached out and pulled her to him.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Keeping you from breaking your neck,” he answered grimly. She felt so small and fragile next, to him. Again a strong sense of protectiveness surged within him. It wasn’t a feeling he welcomed, but he seemed unable to fight it. “If we were going at a slower pace, I’d let you walk. It would mean less wear and tear on your.body. But for the rest of the day, at least, we need to put as much distance between us and the fort as we can.”
    She stopped struggling. One of her palms curled around his arm. Her other hand gripped his shoulder. “If we leave the river, how will we find water for the oxen?”
    “There’s quite a few streams that feed into the Ruby. Don’t worry, water won’t be a problem.”
    “But how will you know where to—”
    “Look, Miss Amory, this isn’t the time or place to have a discussion. I’ve got to concentrate on keeping these animals on a path that’s no bigger than a cat’s behind. We’ll talk later.”
    He ducked, pulling her down with him, when a lowhanging branch threatened to take their heads off. Dust anddead pine needles flew as the limb smacked the top of the lurching wagon.
    She buried her face in his sleeve. When she came up for air, she was coughing. “As long as you realize I’m in charge.”
    Little gasps kept time with each bump they experienced. He didn’t know whether to laugh or swear at the stubborn female. She had the most one-track mind of any woman he’d ever met.
    “Oh, yeah,” he growled, feeling the jarring in his tender ribs. “You’re definitely in charge.”
    He would let her think that all the way to Trinity Falls.
    It seemed to Victoria that her entire twenty-four years had shrunk to this jerky passage through the Idaho wilderness. They had been traveling for hours now. And there was no outward sign from Youngblood that he meant to stop anytime soon. Because the thickly timbered landscape blocked most of the sun’s rays, it was difficult to gauge the time of day. From her stomach’s not-so-discreet rumblings, though, she assumed it was well past noon.
    The grim-faced man beside her hadn’t spoken for the longest time. But then, their violent progress discouraged conversation. She had to admit he was good with her team. She doubted