her husband grabbed a handful of cartridges.
Watching him load his weapon, Lydia’s earlier relief congealed into an emotion that she was not accustomed to feeling – that of stone cold fury.
“How dare you jeopardize my daughter’s life with your arrogant posturing!”
Finished reloading, Ben slammed the lid on the ammunition box. “In case you didn’t notice, it was my ‘arrogant posturing’, along with the mention of your brother-in-law’s name, that saved your stylishly-clad backside. You sure have one helluva way of showing your appreciation.”
“What I would appreciate , sir, is you watching your foul mouth.”
Somewhat sheepishly, Ben glanced at Dixie. “I’m sorry about the rough language,” he muttered, shoving both his rifle and the ammunition box under the wagon seat. “Although, curse words aside, I don’t see what you’re getting so riled about.”
“Did it not occur to you, Mister Strong, that those men may not have been taken in by your foolish bravado? What if they’d been aware of the fact that you had no bullets left? What then?”
“Those fellas didn’t look like the type to keep count of how many bullets had been fired.”
“But how could you know that for certain?”
“I grant you, it was a calculated risk.”
“Well, see that it doesn’t happen again.” Exasperated, by his insouciance, Lydia’s voice trembled with rage. “While you may be accustomed to taking such risks with your own life, I will not permit you to behave so recklessly with my life, and especially that of my daughter. Is that understood?”
Ben stared at her, a guarded look in his gray eyes.
“Just get on the wagon,” he muttered, refusing to answer her.
Knowing that she’d been stalemated, Lydia assisted Dixie into the back of the wagon. She was about to grab hold of the wagon bow in order to hoist herself upward when Ben wordlessly grasped her around the waist, effortlessly lifting her onto the seat. With a noticeably unsteady hand, Lydia smoothed her skirt into place.
“Would it be too much to ask if we could soon make evening camp?” she inquired once Ben had seated himself.
Her husband unwrapped the horses’ reins from around the brake handle. “It would.”
With that said, he snapped down the reins.
“How about naming him General Lee?”
Ben peered at the sorrel-colored horse in question, his brow contemplatively furrowed. “Well, if he’s to be called General Lee, and the bay is General Jackson, then I think it’s only fair that the other two horses are respectively named General Grant and General Sherman. Agreed?”
Dixie looked to her mother for confirmation. “What do you think, Mama?”
Glancing at the team of horses hobbled near their encamped wagon, Lydia nodded her assent. “I believe that it is a fair and fitting compromise.”
Her daughter beamed a smile at both her and Ben, not the least bit prejudicial in her affections.
Over the course of their tiring first day’s journey, Lydia had been pleasantly surprised by the easy rapport between Dixie and her new husband. It made her realize, albeit with some measure of guilt, that her daughter had been too long without a father in her life. Moreover, as she’d watched and listened to Ben and Dixie amiably interact, it’d made her hopeful that there might be a chance yet for her fledgling marriage to succeed.
Granted , she’d been of a decidedly different mindset after their harrowing run-in with the James gang. Quite honestly, Lydia didn’t know who she’d been more afraid of – her own husband or those dangerous bandits.
As had happened numerous times since, Lydia again pondered Ben’s fierce, belligerent reaction. Like a gladiator of old, he’d shown no weakness, no fear, as if he’d been magically transformed into a different man altogether. A man with a single-minded purpose – kill or be killed.
And the notion did not sit well with her.
Although to give her new husband his due, she knew
Watching him load his weapon, Lydia’s earlier relief congealed into an emotion that she was not accustomed to feeling – that of stone cold fury.
“How dare you jeopardize my daughter’s life with your arrogant posturing!”
Finished reloading, Ben slammed the lid on the ammunition box. “In case you didn’t notice, it was my ‘arrogant posturing’, along with the mention of your brother-in-law’s name, that saved your stylishly-clad backside. You sure have one helluva way of showing your appreciation.”
“What I would appreciate , sir, is you watching your foul mouth.”
Somewhat sheepishly, Ben glanced at Dixie. “I’m sorry about the rough language,” he muttered, shoving both his rifle and the ammunition box under the wagon seat. “Although, curse words aside, I don’t see what you’re getting so riled about.”
“Did it not occur to you, Mister Strong, that those men may not have been taken in by your foolish bravado? What if they’d been aware of the fact that you had no bullets left? What then?”
“Those fellas didn’t look like the type to keep count of how many bullets had been fired.”
“But how could you know that for certain?”
“I grant you, it was a calculated risk.”
“Well, see that it doesn’t happen again.” Exasperated, by his insouciance, Lydia’s voice trembled with rage. “While you may be accustomed to taking such risks with your own life, I will not permit you to behave so recklessly with my life, and especially that of my daughter. Is that understood?”
Ben stared at her, a guarded look in his gray eyes.
“Just get on the wagon,” he muttered, refusing to answer her.
Knowing that she’d been stalemated, Lydia assisted Dixie into the back of the wagon. She was about to grab hold of the wagon bow in order to hoist herself upward when Ben wordlessly grasped her around the waist, effortlessly lifting her onto the seat. With a noticeably unsteady hand, Lydia smoothed her skirt into place.
“Would it be too much to ask if we could soon make evening camp?” she inquired once Ben had seated himself.
Her husband unwrapped the horses’ reins from around the brake handle. “It would.”
With that said, he snapped down the reins.
“How about naming him General Lee?”
Ben peered at the sorrel-colored horse in question, his brow contemplatively furrowed. “Well, if he’s to be called General Lee, and the bay is General Jackson, then I think it’s only fair that the other two horses are respectively named General Grant and General Sherman. Agreed?”
Dixie looked to her mother for confirmation. “What do you think, Mama?”
Glancing at the team of horses hobbled near their encamped wagon, Lydia nodded her assent. “I believe that it is a fair and fitting compromise.”
Her daughter beamed a smile at both her and Ben, not the least bit prejudicial in her affections.
Over the course of their tiring first day’s journey, Lydia had been pleasantly surprised by the easy rapport between Dixie and her new husband. It made her realize, albeit with some measure of guilt, that her daughter had been too long without a father in her life. Moreover, as she’d watched and listened to Ben and Dixie amiably interact, it’d made her hopeful that there might be a chance yet for her fledgling marriage to succeed.
Granted , she’d been of a decidedly different mindset after their harrowing run-in with the James gang. Quite honestly, Lydia didn’t know who she’d been more afraid of – her own husband or those dangerous bandits.
As had happened numerous times since, Lydia again pondered Ben’s fierce, belligerent reaction. Like a gladiator of old, he’d shown no weakness, no fear, as if he’d been magically transformed into a different man altogether. A man with a single-minded purpose – kill or be killed.
And the notion did not sit well with her.
Although to give her new husband his due, she knew
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