Chapter 12 #2
“Thank you, sir.” Devon shoved something into his trouser pocket and started to don his hat. A glimpse in Frieda’s direction, and he paused the latter action. “Thank you kindly for your hospitality, Miss Schramm.” He glanced at the tray.
“Surely, you von’t leave without taking a bit of refreshment, sir.” She pressed her hands against her apron and practically stood on her tiptoes in eagerness. “I have two glasses vaiting in the kitchen for you and Papa.”
“I’m afraid we’d best be going, miss.” But he turned toward her and away from the door.
“Stay for a bit of lemonade, son.” Dr. Schramm adjusted his spectacles.
“I’ll go get the glasses.” Frieda moved around Devon, her skirt coming within inches of his boots.
Morning Fawn wasn’t going to stand around and watch him have a parlor chat with this too-perfect girl.
“We don’t have time. I’m sorry.” She picked up a slice of bread without butter and stuck it in Devon’s hand as he gaped at her.
“Thank you kindly for the offer, Miss Schramm, but my aunt is waiting.” She marched out the door.
If Devon didn’t follow double-quick, he could find her in the next county. She was already mounted by the time he made it down the path.
Hat on his head, he glared at her as he hurried to his horse. “Wait up.” Was there a blush on his cheeks, or was it just the heat of exasperation? “You’re not the one in charge here.”
A frigid smile trickled across her lips. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your lemonade.”
“Miss Frieda is bringing me a cup.” He reached for her reins.
Miss Frieda? The girl had gone from Miss Schramm to Miss Frieda in the two minutes since Morning Fawn had walked out? She whipped the reins from his almost-grip and pressed her knees into horse flesh, pulling the mare’s head hard to the right.
He reached, his hand landing on her skirt, but not quick enough.
She spurred the horse toward a gallop, almost colliding with a carriage.
Behind her, Devon scrambled into his saddle, his harsh words a mere rumble as she neared the intersection.
A teamster cursed and yanked his team to a halt. Dust flew as she swerved in front of him.
A girl in the middle of crossing the street dropped her basket of eggs.
“Hey, lady, slow down,” a man yelled behind her, but she pounded past a carriage, goading the mare toward the edge of town and beyond.
Slow-poke cotton wagons clogged the rutted road outside town.
Tents lay ahead to the south and east. Too many soldiers.
She veered into the other lane, bypassing the cotton freight and cutting ahead between the front two wagons to avoid another rider.
The road was too crowded. She steered the mare off the path and into the brush.
Hoots and hollers echoed behind her. Wind smacked her face as she inhaled fresh air.
Buffalo grass swooshed against her ankles in a field beyond the bushes. She slowed a bit. Was that horse hooves behind her? She headed the mare toward a patch of trees. The river gurgled nearby.
Her mare was at a walk by the time Devon pulled up alongside of her. His hat askew and out of breath, he reached over and snatched her reins. “I ought to hogtie you and throw you across my horse for pulling a stunt like that.”
She lifted her chin. “I saved you the trouble of having to wrestle me to the ground this time.”
He muttered and swiped his forearm across his brow. His knee brushed her skirt as he tightened his grip on her reins. “Why in the devil did you run off like that? Where in the world were you headed?”
She shrugged and ran her hand over her hair. No hat. When had she lost that? Her aunt would have a fit for her going about with her head uncovered. “I felt like a ride by the river before I head back to prison.”
“You help put yourself there, pulling stunts like this.” He smacked his hat against his thigh.
She nailed him with a glare. “I’m sorry I spoiled your lemonade.” Had she really just said that to him? That and about half a dozen other things that had blurted out of her mouth in the last hour. What in the world had come over her?
Devon blinked wide. Morning Fawn was jealous? Ridiculous. No. Impossible. She couldn't care less. But what if she did? He leaned back in his saddle and scrubbed his hand across his jaw.
She put her hand on her hip. “What’s that look about?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
He fought against the smile that threatened to erupt. “Don’t you think we should head back? Your aunt will be worried.”
She dropped the reins and glared at him. “I’m not moving until you tell me what you’re thinking.”
He chuckled and grabbed the reins. “I reckon I’ll have to do it for you, then. I wouldn’t want both of us to be banished from coming near a horse again.”
She held the saddle horn as her horse shifted into motion beside his, passing through the field and back toward the ferry. “Are you going to tell them what I did?
“Of course not.” He tossed her reins into her lap. “See if you can keep up and behave yourself all at the same time.” His glance trailed over the fading pink in her cheeks. What if he was right? What if her remark in the harness shop about bits had to do with more than just the land?
Couldn’t be. But it felt as if his world had tilted.