Chapter 2
Daisy startled awake when something hit her foot.
She blinked open her eyes and yawned. Clay was standing, staring off to her right, and turning her head, she froze when she saw the figure of a man.
The sudden shock of seeing him jolted her into action.
She jumped to her feet and winced when her muscles ached.
All the running and trying to sleep while sitting up next to a tree was doing a number on her body.
She could only imagine how Clay felt after getting kicked so many times.
Clay didn’t even glance her way when he grabbed her arm and stepped in front of her.
She accepted the stance without question, hiding behind him as they stood facing the man in the trees.
The sun was still hours away from rising, so no one would have any reason to be out here this time of night.
Was it the men who attacked the stagecoach? Had they found them?
The man took several steps closer. He had a funny gait, his body moving left, then right, as he walked.
She noticed a rifle at his side; the muzzle pointed to the ground.
When he was close enough to see, she sighed in relief.
He wasn’t one of the men from the stagecoach robbery.
Or she didn’t think he was. She hadn’t seen him.
He was an older gentleman with gray hair and a long beard.
His clothes looked clean, and he smiled as if everything was perfect in the world.
He and Clay spoke for several long minutes, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying in the dark.
The old man gave her another smile and turned to walk away.
She stepped out from behind Clay when he did and looked up at him.
His smile eased some of her fear. “Who is he?” she asked, glancing behind her to watch the man walk away.
Clay tapped her shoulder to get her attention. “His name is Eugene Harding. He has a cabin close by. Said we’re welcome to come stay the night with him and his wife.”
It was hard to see his lips in the dark. He lowered his head and repeated what he’d said, and she got the gist of it. “How did he know we were here?”
“He heard you screaming and came to see what was happening.”
“Oh.” The mention of her screaming brought back memories of the kiss that had put a stop to it. She glanced at Clay’s mouth, the same mouth that had touched hers so intimately, and she felt her face heat. Luckily, it was still dark enough Clay wouldn’t be able to tell how hard she was blushing.
She hoped.
“We don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable was sleeping on the damp ground with nothing to keep the chill air from her body but a thin cloak.
“We’ll do whatever you want.”
Daisy inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d never been trusting of strangers. It had more to do with not being able to hear them than anything else, but she trusted Clay. “Do you think it’s safe?”
He nodded. “More so than sleeping out here all night.”
She looked back at the spot she’d been resting, then at the surrounding trees.
She knew what sort of wildlife called the forest home.
Her brother-in-law, Graham Hart, used to hunt and trap animals for their skins, and the stories he told her about his encounters were enough to make the hair on her entire body stand on end.
She’d hate to come face-to-face with a wolf or mountain lion out here with nothing but Clay’s pistol.
She didn't know how many shots he’d fired at the bandits, so if her choices were to stay here or in a real cabin that offered protection, then she’d take it. “All right,” she said.
He gave her a quick nod and grabbed her hand before following the old man. She hid the smile on her face and tried not to read much into the hand-holding. It was still dark out. He’d probably just done it so she wouldn’t fall, but whatever the reason, it felt—nice.
She glanced at his face. More specifically, his lips.
The kiss he’d given her came back to mind.
It had been the first time in her life that a man had kissed her.
It hadn’t been the type of kiss she’d seen Violet or Rose share with their husbands, though.
Clay’s kiss had been quick compared to the long, drawn-out kisses her sisters received, but it had still been nice.
She wondered if he’d do it again. A proper kiss, this time. Not just his lips on hers.
The old man’s cabin wasn’t far from where they’d been resting.
It was small and rustic but looked well-kept up.
A light was shining from the windows, and smoke curled from the chimney.
The door opened before they made it to the porch, and a woman with a shawl draped around her shoulders greeted them with a huge smile and wide eyes.
Clay’s hand tightened in her own when they stopped at the bottom of the steps.
The old man was speaking to the woman, her smile widening by the second as she looked at them.
She saw the woman say something before stepping back away from the door.
The old man entered before them. He and the person Daisy assumed was his wife shared a smile before Clay started in after him.
The cabin was small with only one additional door.
A fire was burning, the embers glowing bright enough to cast the room in golden light.
Sparsely furnished, it held nothing more than a table with a couple of chairs and two old rockers near the fireplace.
She noticed the conversation happening and tried to focus on what everyone was saying as Clay’s hand tightened on her own.
He nodded and smiled before shaking his head.
“Are you sure?” she saw the old man say. “It's not a problem.”
Clay shook his head again, and the woman nodded. She opened the door along the back wall before stepping inside, coming back a few moments later with a few blankets. She set them in the rocking chair closest to her. “There,” she said. “If you need more, then just say so.”
Clay nodded again, and the old man and woman entered what she assumed was their bedroom before shutting the door behind them.
He dropped her hand and turned to face her.
“They were going to give us their bed.” His smile was wide, his eyes sparkling, and her girlish heart started pounding in her chest. “It took some convincing to get them to understand it wasn’t necessary.
” He glanced at the blankets they’d left.
“I doubt the floor is comfortable, but it's warmer than the ground.”
He made a pallet next to the fire and motioned for her to lie down. She was so tired she didn’t protest and wondered where he’d sleep. She got her answer a moment later when he sank into the rocking chair near the door. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
She watched him in the flickering light from the fireplace, taking in the lines of his face and the dusting of stubble on his chin. That unkempt look gave most men a haggard appearance, but not Clay. It only made him more handsome and rugged-looking.
The first time she clapped eyes on him, she’d been dumbstruck.
He’d been staring at her. When their eyes met, he’d smiled and tipped the front of his hat up.
She’d been ignored most of her life, and even though she saw men do that when greeting a woman, no one had ever greeted her like that.
Not until him. The shock that someone so handsome was acknowledging her had her entire body jolting.
Then she’d turned and run.
Clay had been a permanent fixture in Silver Falls for a while now, and every time she saw him, he’d smile and tip his hat.
Her girlish heart pounded whenever he did.
More so when Violet started telling her he was sweet on her.
She’d brushed the words off as utter nonsense because…
why would anyone be interested in her? Especially someone as handsome as Clay Baxter?
But despite her knowing it was impossible, Violet was insistent enough that the notion wouldn’t leave her, more so when Clay’s attention to her never faltered.
He always spoke to her when she saw him, and she’d loved it.
She’d hoped the trip to Butte would confirm what Violet had said, but the memory of him right before leaving Silver Falls flashed in her mind's eye, and her previous thought vanished as a twinge of pain made her heart hurt.
Climbing into the wagon that would take them into Elkin to catch the stagecoach, she’d spotted Clay with Veronica Hiatt, the seamstress's daughter. It was no secret the girl was in love with him; everyone knew it, and she’d never believed Clay returned the girl's feelings until that moment. They’d been standing between the mercantile and the dress shop Veronica and her mother owned.
Veronica’s arms had been around his neck, and there wasn’t an inch of space between them.
They'd been in a tight embrace, kissing as if they’d never get another chance to do it.
Seeing them like that had made her stomach clench to the point it felt as if someone had punched her in the gut.
Her chest had ached and she’d found it hard to breathe so she’d turned away, climbing into the wagon, and knew then that Violet had been filling her head with nothing but pretty lies.
But are they lies?
The thought whispered in her mind. She couldn’t deny the looks he’d given her since they'd left Elkin. Or the way he held her hand and kissed her. She’d convinced herself that no man would ever want her, and she believed it.
Until Clay. Despite what she saw, something told her that Violet was right.
That he was sweet on her, but it was still so hard to believe.