Winnie Griggs - Handpicked Husband

“This is about common sense, Junior, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr. Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his back.”

“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face that than listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon enough to suit him.

A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant warble ceased.

“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as surprise.

“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.

But this was no man.

From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He hesitated, though, to use the word lady. She appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.

The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.

Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.

Besides, she might be a good source of information.

He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”

“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.

“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”

Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?

But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So, there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?

Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she stuck the weed between her teeth.

But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there, merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the protection of the trees.

This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store for his companions.

“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic drawl. “I reckon I was a mite surprised at that, but no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’ gents like you ’uns.”

Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.

This girl’s eyes were just like that.

She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken. Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken. This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.

Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right, miss?”

She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.

She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field of clover. Why’d you ask?”

Let it go, Adam silently advised. But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.

“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe something had frightened you.”

Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his innocent blunder?

To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”

Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could laugh at herself? Now there was a novelty.

Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I—”

She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give it my all?”

She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles back.”

“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if she thought a trek through the woods would deter him.

The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they was expecting company.”

He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of himself.

Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.

“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a ride?”

Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.

“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail behind her.

Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with this mess.

“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins. “Good day.”

“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello when you see her.”

Adam raised a brow. “Who shall I say sends her greetings?”

“She’ll know.”

Being coy, was she? He’d already decided the girl wasn’t quite as guileless as she seemed. That drawl was a bit too thick, that gleam in her eyes a bit too knowing.

Not that he thought the worse of her for it. Under the circumstances, she probably felt safer pretending to be simple. Living down to their expectations, as it were.