ridiculous thought.
His eyes, dark with question, took on a hint of softness. “Out with it.”
“Well, uh, I need to do some wash. Almost everything of the baby’s was soiled and if I don’t do it this morning they won’t be dry when I need them.”
Luke turned. “Francis, you stay with Mrs. Brown’s wagon. You, too, Lucky. When she’s ready the two wagons can traveltogether and help her catch up.” He looked back. “How long will you need?”
“Just an hour or two, I think. I’ll hang the things in the wagon to dry as we go.” She was relieved. He didn’t seem angry at all.
Earl, close in proximity, grumbled into his cup. “I knew that woman would hold us up. Females are always whinin’ about somethin’.” He paused for a moment, then added slyly, “Did ya whip the boy good, boss?”
Luke’s brows drew together in an angry frown. His jaw clenched several times before he looked at Faith. He said nothing.
“Whip him? The boy? What did he mean?” she asked, her tone rising two octaves. Anxiously she searched the camp. She felt her face heat from a mixture of hot anger and fear. “Where is Colton?”
“Get out on the trail,” Luke commanded Earl, his voice low and dangerous. The man smirked, giving Faith one last look as he threw the remainder of his coffee into the fire, and stalked away.
She turned on Luke with the same ferocity she’d felt whenever Samuel was set upon, in his own words, teaching the boy a lesson.
“Easy now, Faith. Just settle down,” Luke said, raising his hands, palms forward.
“Where is Colton?” she demanded. She looked around wildly. “Is he hurt?”
Luke stepped back, giving Faith some breathing space. He said her name calmly, trying to appeal to her senses. He didn’t want to add to her hysteria, but dang, she was exasperating in an overprotective way.
“He was sassing me this morning. We had a little meeting—man to man. Someone’s got to teach the boy some manners. You don’t seem to want to do it.”
Faith’s flinching as if she’d been slapped was his first indication that he might have said too much. Over her head he saw Lucky’s eyes go wide, and the cook retreated for cover.
“I promise, I didn’t lay a finger on him,” Luke added, trying to keep his voice level.
“Where is he, then?” She’d recovered from his accusation, and had come up fighting. She planted her hands on her hips and tried to face him eye to eye, despite the vast difference in their heights. Her eyes were challenging. Beautiful. He was tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and see just how mad she could really get.
“He’s with Smokey,” he replied coolly, trying to hide the smile brought by the image his mind was creating.
She stared at him in doubt, all the while tapping the toe of her boot. “I don’t believe you.”
“Smokey’s taken a liking to Colton. Asked if he could ride behind him today. I said yes. Colton seemed only too happy to go.”
“What?” she cried. “He’s only a boy. Eight years old. He could get hurt. Or killed! I never imagined you could be so thick. What were you thinking?”
That stung. It was way too early in the morning to be called a name. “There’s always a small possibility he could fall and get trampled by the cattle, but I don’t think Smokey will let anything happen. He’s a good hand.” Luke knew mishaps like that rarely occurred, and Colton was almost as safe on the back of Smokey’s horse as riding in the wagon, but he felt like teasing her a little for not trusting his judgment.
Faith’s expression transformed from anger to something else. Her eyes clouded over, extinguishing that beautiful flashing light. They went cold. Dead. She looked beaten, and she turned so fast he didn’t have a chance to catch her. In disbelief he watched her run all the way back to her wagon, dress flying. She showed a glimpse of her slender ankle, then disappeared inside.
Chapter Eleven
T HE baby slept, blissfully
His eyes, dark with question, took on a hint of softness. “Out with it.”
“Well, uh, I need to do some wash. Almost everything of the baby’s was soiled and if I don’t do it this morning they won’t be dry when I need them.”
Luke turned. “Francis, you stay with Mrs. Brown’s wagon. You, too, Lucky. When she’s ready the two wagons can traveltogether and help her catch up.” He looked back. “How long will you need?”
“Just an hour or two, I think. I’ll hang the things in the wagon to dry as we go.” She was relieved. He didn’t seem angry at all.
Earl, close in proximity, grumbled into his cup. “I knew that woman would hold us up. Females are always whinin’ about somethin’.” He paused for a moment, then added slyly, “Did ya whip the boy good, boss?”
Luke’s brows drew together in an angry frown. His jaw clenched several times before he looked at Faith. He said nothing.
“Whip him? The boy? What did he mean?” she asked, her tone rising two octaves. Anxiously she searched the camp. She felt her face heat from a mixture of hot anger and fear. “Where is Colton?”
“Get out on the trail,” Luke commanded Earl, his voice low and dangerous. The man smirked, giving Faith one last look as he threw the remainder of his coffee into the fire, and stalked away.
She turned on Luke with the same ferocity she’d felt whenever Samuel was set upon, in his own words, teaching the boy a lesson.
“Easy now, Faith. Just settle down,” Luke said, raising his hands, palms forward.
“Where is Colton?” she demanded. She looked around wildly. “Is he hurt?”
Luke stepped back, giving Faith some breathing space. He said her name calmly, trying to appeal to her senses. He didn’t want to add to her hysteria, but dang, she was exasperating in an overprotective way.
“He was sassing me this morning. We had a little meeting—man to man. Someone’s got to teach the boy some manners. You don’t seem to want to do it.”
Faith’s flinching as if she’d been slapped was his first indication that he might have said too much. Over her head he saw Lucky’s eyes go wide, and the cook retreated for cover.
“I promise, I didn’t lay a finger on him,” Luke added, trying to keep his voice level.
“Where is he, then?” She’d recovered from his accusation, and had come up fighting. She planted her hands on her hips and tried to face him eye to eye, despite the vast difference in their heights. Her eyes were challenging. Beautiful. He was tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and see just how mad she could really get.
“He’s with Smokey,” he replied coolly, trying to hide the smile brought by the image his mind was creating.
She stared at him in doubt, all the while tapping the toe of her boot. “I don’t believe you.”
“Smokey’s taken a liking to Colton. Asked if he could ride behind him today. I said yes. Colton seemed only too happy to go.”
“What?” she cried. “He’s only a boy. Eight years old. He could get hurt. Or killed! I never imagined you could be so thick. What were you thinking?”
That stung. It was way too early in the morning to be called a name. “There’s always a small possibility he could fall and get trampled by the cattle, but I don’t think Smokey will let anything happen. He’s a good hand.” Luke knew mishaps like that rarely occurred, and Colton was almost as safe on the back of Smokey’s horse as riding in the wagon, but he felt like teasing her a little for not trusting his judgment.
Faith’s expression transformed from anger to something else. Her eyes clouded over, extinguishing that beautiful flashing light. They went cold. Dead. She looked beaten, and she turned so fast he didn’t have a chance to catch her. In disbelief he watched her run all the way back to her wagon, dress flying. She showed a glimpse of her slender ankle, then disappeared inside.
Chapter Eleven
T HE baby slept, blissfully
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