“I don’t know what you mean.” She sat up, pushing hair out of her face and trying to appear normal, whatever that meant. The last thing she should do is cower like a little mouse facing a big cat.
“You were following me, don’t deny it. I want to know why.” He fingered the tang of the blade, sending a shiver up her spine at the caress.
“I-I wasn’t following you. I was traveling alone and you happened to be riding ahead of me.” She didn’t even believe herself.
Apparently he didn’t, either. “You were in the alley near the saloon. I saw you. Then when I left town, you were right behind me. Don’t shovel any more shit at me.”
Although she was shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth, Eliza knew she couldn’t admit what she had been doing. Something told her giving into his bullying would be the absolute wrong thing to do.
“The fact you saw me in town doesn’t mean I was following you. That’s ridiculous logic.” She rose to her feet, intent on holding her ground, feigning ignorance. “I wasn’t being disingenuous about my intents.”
“Using a five-dollar word ain’t gonna change a thing, woman. You need to get your ass back on your horse and go back to town. There must be some foolish man out there looking for you.”
Eliza held back the blush by force of will. If only he knew her father didn’t care about her other than his meal being late. No doubt he had all kinds of punishment scheduled for her, including penance on her knees for days.
“I assure you, there’s no one worried about me. I am traveling in the same direction as you, a pure coincidence.” Hoping he didn’t notice the trembling in her hands, Eliza tried to pick up her saddle, but found herself on her fanny in the dirt instead. It didn’t occur to her that the saddle she lifted off the stall wall the day before would be heavier when lifted from the ground. It was simple science, of course, and Eliza was embarrassed she hadn’t come to the conclusion earlier.
“That just proves to me you don’t belong out here, Just Miss Eliza.” He picked up her saddle as if it weighed nothing and plopped it on the horse’s back, dead center on the blanket. The man was stronger than he looked. After cinching the saddle with expert speed, he grabbed her bags, then immediately dropped the larger one. “Jesus Christ, what’s in here?”
Eliza forgot to be scared for a moment when her most precious possessions were in danger. “Be careful! That contains my books.”
He poked the bag. “Books? You’re out here with coyotes and scorpions and you got a bag of damn books? What the hell is wrong with you?”
His words should have stung, but Eliza was more annoyed than insulted. “I’ll thank you to give my books the proper respect, Mr. Wolfe. These are very precious to me.” She pulled the bag across the dusty ground, away from the toes of his boots.
“Go back to town, or I’ll tie you to a tree and leave you here.” He slid the big knife into its scabbard on his hip.
“I’m heading west, Mr. Wolfe, whether or not you want me to.” She swallowed the big lump in her throat with effort.
He stalked toward her, that lean-hipped swagger making her want to turn tail and run. Leaning in close, he puffed out a breath, which smelled like coffee and tobacco, the heat a strangely welcome feeling in the cold morning air.
“What the hell do you want, Eliza?”
It seemed strange to have any man use her given name, much less a man like Grady Wolfe. She was used to being called Sister Hunter or Daughter, but only Angeline called her Eliza. The reminder made her courage return in equal measure to combat her fear. Then her imagination took over and saved her.
“Fine then, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m a widow with no means to support myself.”
“You could sell the books,” he mumbled under his breath.
“My husband’s family threw me out of the house, so I took what I could carry and left.” She gestured to the 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