Pat Tracy - Beloved Outcast

She found the blanket she’d used last night and located the sadly bedraggled hat. Before returning to her seat, she took the opportunity to carefully tuck away the books she’d reclaimed before boarding the wagon.

“I’m all set now,” she announced as she climbed back next to him, shaking the winkles and dust from the muchabused bonnet.

He said nothing, nor did he make any move to proceed.

“Well, just don’t sit there and stare at me,” she muttered dourly. “According to you, time is of the essence.”

“Are you going to put that thing on?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Of course.”

“Then do it.”

“You know, Mr. Youngblood, you’re a downright irritating fellow.” She sought to untangle the snarled ribbon ties. “I wouldn’t be the least surprised to discover that’s why you were locked up—for being generally obnoxious.”

“I’m waiting for you to put on your damned hat so we can get going without you tumbling onto your sweetly shaped behind.”

He had been sneaking peeks at her posterior! A hot flush bathed her cheeks. Good grief, he was a barbarian.

Naturally, she was somewhat mollified to learn that he approved of what he’d seen. Still, the man needed the most basic of lessons on how to conduct himself with a lady. But then, criminals of his sort probably didn’t often associate with ladies, not even ones with her own somewhat maligned reputation.

“I think I can manage to put my bonnet on and remain seated,” she said sharply. “Provided, of course, that you can manage to avoid the larger holes pocking this charming road we’re obliged to follow.”

“We’re not staying on the main road.”

She stopped fiddling with the knot she’d been trying to unravel. He had her full attention now. “Why on earth not?”

“It’s sixty miles to Trinity Falls on this route. That’s a sixday journey, with a fully loaded wagon pulled by oxen.”

“So?”

“That’s six days on flat terrain that will leave us exposed to attack from any roaming Indians.”

“Which isn’t a good situation to be in,” she mused aloud.

“A better choice for us would be to leave the main road and detour through those mountains.”

Victoria looked toward the mountains in question. They loomed large and inhospitable—great granite crags stretching skyward. Caps of snow from the previous winter still covered the upper reaches. Even the tenacious pines and cedars hadn’t trespassed to those higher realms.

“You are simpleminded to think my team and wagon can scale those rugged cliffs.”

It wasn’t until the words popped out of her mouth that Victoria realized she’d spoken plainly enough for even a simpleton to realize he’d been insulted. She kept her gaze pinned resolutely on the jagged outcroppings.

“Do you plan to insult me all the way to Trinity Falls?”

There was no ignoring his tone’s stony timbre.

She decided only a coward would refuse to look at him when she answered his question. Until this very moment, Victoria hadn’t realized she had a cowardly bone in her body. She drew in a breath and ceased her futile struggles with her ribbon ties. Turning slowly, she confronted her offended companion.

“I apologize, Mr. Youngblood, for hurting your feelings.”

He stared at her hard enough with that cyclopean eye of his to raise goose bumps on her skin.

“And,” she continued gamely, “in the future, I will endeavor to control my tongue.”

At her words, his harsh gaze swooped to her lips. Her goose bumps multiplied a hundredfold.

His mouth curved. On someone else the gesture would have resembled a smile. On him, the action had a kind of carnivorous aspect. She suspected that the Big Bad Wolf had sized up Little Red Riding Hood in that exact predatory fashion.

“It’s at this point that you’re supposed to accept my apology,” she instructed.

“If it will get that damned bonnet on your head any quicker, I’ll accept your most humble apologies.”

She bit back her objections to his profanity, his reference to her “most humble” apologies and his entirely offensive manner. Instead she concentrated on unknotting the damned snarl that had—

Victoria winced. Goodness, the crude man was already proving to have a corrupting effect upon her moral character. She never swore. Not when being falsely accused of misconduct with her sister’s beau, not when an unsympathetic wagon master refused to wait for her, not when dealing with unrepentant criminals.

She governed her life by a high set of principles. And it was especially important now that she adhere to that superior code of conduct. After all, when she reached Trinity Falls, she would be instructing a young woman in the elements of being a proper lady, as well as handling the girl’s general education. It wouldn’t do at all for Victoria to show up in her new environment contaminated by her association with Logan Youngblood.

It was she who needed to exert a positive influence upon him. Surely, with a diligent effort upon her part, he could be dissuaded from his wayward ways.

The knot finally loosened enough for her to free the ribbons. She wasted no time in securing the hat to her head.

“We’re not going over the mountains,” Youngblood said. “There are trails and passes I’m hoping to get this wagon through. Once we’re shielded by the forest, I’ll feel better.”

“I suppose it does make sense for us to make ourselves less conspicuous,” she conceded reluctantly. The thought of entering the mysterious denseness of the wooded wilderness, however, was daunting to a city girl like herself. It seemed that it would be very easy to become lost among those pines that grew so astonishingly close to each other. It looked as if even the sunlight had to struggle to penetrate the lightly packed clusters of trees. “Are you sure you know the way to Trinity 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 northward through 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.”