Chapter 12
Out front an hour later, Morning Fawn firmed her mouth as Nicholas Moyer bent over her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She cringed at the tickle of his mustache but held her peace.
Devon clamped his jaw shut, looking as if he were fit to be tied.
She smiled. Now she knew how to show the pirate she wasn’t some desperate damsel in need of saving.
Moyer straightened, giving her hand one last squeeze before he released it. “Till Saturday evening, my lovely lady.” Fire sparked in his deep-brown eyes.
“I shall look forward to it.” She batted her eyelashes as she’d seen Thea do a hundred times, trying not to wince.
“Your aunt’s waiting for us.” Devon grabbed her arm, not quite gently, and tugged her toward the horses. “Probably in a panic.”
“If you need to go on, Lieutenant, I could always escort her—”
“My job’s to bring both ladies home.” Not even a hint of “no, thank you, sir” or “much obliged.” Devon’s pleasantries had slowly fallen by the wayside the farther they’d walked between the rows of towering bales. Had he been bored, or maybe he didn’t care to play second fiddle to a cotton king?
Devon turned toward Morning Fawn and offered his linked fingers for her foot.
She pressed her shoe into his callused flesh as she stepped into the saddle, smiling at the slender wisps of cotton that clung to his felt hat.
In a matter of minutes, Devon had them headed back toward the ferry, past the freight wagons. “That man’s slicker than a snake oil salesman.”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” He unwound his canteen from his saddle horn and took a swig. “I’m trying to say he’s not to be trusted.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I know a fox when I see one.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re one to talk, Lieutenant. Going around stealing women.”
He exhaled. “There’s a world of light and dark between me and the likes of Moyer, Miss Logan.” He pulled ahead, ramrod straight in the saddle.
Silence dropped between them. But when she thought he’d turn right toward the river, he guided them left.
“Where are we going?” She slowed her mount.
“To see a doctor about my eye.”
She blinked at him. “But you said we had to get back to my aunt. She’s waiting, you know.”
“Since when does something like that trouble you?” He arched an eyebrow at her and moved farther right as a carriage rumbled past. “My eye’s been bothering me, and I have the name of a doctor in Alleyton someone recommended.”
Only the small pinkish scar on the bridge of his nose gave any clue to the injury.
What did the leather patch hide? Did he have any hope of regaining his sight? Even she had been around society long enough to know not to ask such questions.
She scrunched up her nose at the murky water trickling along in the shallow ditch as they headed into the scruffy clapboard town.
A dog trotted alongside of them. Soldiers, too many of them, meandered along the street.
Men in suits walked amongst them. A handful of them gathered at a cotton factor’s office and another group by the saloon.
A boy laughed as he splashed himself in the horse trough before a lady hurried over to scold him.
After asking at a couple of places, Devon led them down a narrow side street of split-log cabins shoved together like cattle huddling for warmth.
He stopped in front of one with a worn shingle.
The word doctor was etched across its grain.
Trimmed, weathered grass lined the path to the door, and a white flower box, its contents withered for the season, sat below the paned window, the only building with a feminine touch on the whole street.
“We’ll find a place for you to wait inside.” Devon swung down from the saddle and walked over to her horse.
His palm brushed her back as he helped her dismount. Only a second, but the warmth spread all the way to her cheeks.
He smacked his gauntlets against his hand. “The only question is if I need to tie you up or not.”
“Tie me up?” She huffed. Was he teasing or serious?
“I’d take your shoes and the saddle, but I figure that wouldn’t stop you if you had a mind to run off.” He held the gate open. Maybe there was a trace of a twinkle in his eye, but the firm set of his mouth said otherwise.
She pressed her hat to her head as the breeze ruffled it. “And why would I take off when I have a dinner guest coming Saturday evening?” No need to plot an escape until she’d sorted out the whole land-for-marriage scheme.
The odor of pig drifted her way as they walked down the path. Of course, these hovels would have animals in the back.
He scoffed under his breath and knocked on the door. “The expectation of Moyer’s company would be enough to make anyone flee.”
“You’re free to eat in your room, Mr. Reynolds,” she whispered.
The door opened before he could answer.
A brown-haired young woman, with a long braid coiled at the back of her head, stepped into view. “May I help you?” Dimples graced her smooth cheeks as her lips rose in a tentative smile.
Suddenly the pinnacle of manners, Devon swept his hat from his head. “Good afternoon, miss. I’m looking for Dr. Schramm.”
“My father’s in the back. Please come in vhile I alert him to your presence.” A foreign accent clipped her words.
“Much obliged.” He motioned for Morning Fawn to go first. “Please tell him Mr. Carson sent me. About my eye.”
Their petite hostess startled, then regained her composure. “Yes, of course, sir. Is the lady—”
“My employer’s niece. Not here to see the doctor.”
Employer’s niece? Just one of his work duties? Morning Fawn frowned as he watched the brown-eyed beauty retreat down the hall. Obviously, Miss Schramm didn’t need a land scheme to gain his attention. “I hope you’re being paid well.”
“Excuse me?” Devon crinkled his brow.
“Nothing.” Morning Fawn rolled her eyes and picked up a leather-bound book from the doily-covered table. It looked like a Bible, but the letters were strung together in words that didn’t make any sense.
Steps in the hallway. A stout man with a gray beard and spectacles entered the room. Crinkles ringed his eyes. Tuffs of grayish hair, not quite tamed, protruded from his head. His daughter trailed behind him.
“I’m Dr. Schramm, and you must be—”
“Lieutenant Devon Reynolds, sir.” Devon shook the man’s hand heartily.
The doctor smiled. “And the young lady?”
“Miss Beth Logan. I’m in her uncle’s employ. I was hoping she could wait in the parlor here with your daughter.”
So that the doctor’s daughter could keep an eye on her?
“Certainly.” Dr. Schramm warmly pressed Morning Fawn’s hand. “You’re velcome here, Miss Logan. Frieda vill be happy to keep you company as I examine your friend.”
Friend? Guard. And company wasn’t exactly what she wanted. She’d prefer to look at one of their books than try to make polite feminine conversation.
Devon shot her a warning glance before he disappeared down the hall.
Frieda motioned to a wooden chair with a well-padded cushion. “Have a seat, Miss Logan. Vould you like some refreshments?”
“I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.
” Morning Fawn settled onto the edge of the seat.
She really needed to get herself a reticule.
Give her something to do with her hands.
This felt too much like a social call, something she’d had very little practice at and avoided at all costs, especially since it usually entailed sitting around a parlor chatting beside Aunt Judith or Thea and both of them critiquing her every move.
“No trouble.” Frieda beamed. “I’ll be right back.”
Such a docile creature wouldn’t survive more than a week on the prairie.
Morning Fawn fumbled with her fingers and glanced around the room.
The logs showed through, no plaster like the painted and papered walls of her uncle’s mansion.
A faded carpet covered the floor with a rag rug at the entrance.
The tick-tock of a mantel clock, the fanciest thing in the room with its bronze-leafed casing, broke the silence.
Not even a murmur from down the hall. Did Devon’s eye hurt him much?
What had happened? When he kidnapped her, he’d had two piercing blue eyes, hard as flint.
His callused hands had jerked her wrists behind her back and tightened the ropes.
That was after he’d stuffed a gag in her mouth, preventing her from crying out for help.
At the time, she’d regarded him as no better than the dirt on her moccasins.
But later, on the trail to the settlements, he’d protected her against every insult and hint of mistreatment.
Why? Did he get more money for bringing her back safe?
Or was there a streak of honor buried beneath his ruffian exterior?
Not to mention his visit to her room a few nights ago after she’d been given the laudanum…that had nothing to do with money.
“I hope you like lemonade.” Frieda strolled in with a tray and smiled as she set it on the doily on the table just shy of the Bible. “Though I must apologize. Ve’re a little short on sugar. Mixed it with honey instead.”
Morning Fawn thanked her and sipped. A bit tart but sweet. Probably like the girl across from her. Clean white apron, not a hair out of place, pert, and polite. Nothing like Morning Fawn. She accepted a piece of buttered bread and answered her hostess’s questions with as few words as possible.
“It must be lovely to live by the river.” Frieda beamed after Morning Fawn had responded to her inquiry about the plantation.
“This town is a bit rough, as you may have noticed. Pa and I moved down from Friesburg after the railroad came. People flocked here after the depot vas built, and Pa knew they’d need a doctor. ”
A door down the hall opened. Footsteps followed. Morning Fawn stood, and a crumb flittered to the floor before she could catch it.
Frieda dabbed her mouth with a napkin, then stood without a speck of bread on her.
“Take care of yourself, Lieutenant.” Schramm patted Devon on the back. “And use the ointment.”