Chapter 4 #2
Dodge Coburn hadn’t looked at her since they’d left the livery, much less said anything.
Which was fine by her. She already felt self-conscious about her appearance, and his initial response upon seeing her hadn’t helped.
She cast a discreet glance his way, highly doubting conversational skills were his strength, but hard work clearly was.
His muscular forearms and thighs said as much, and his hands, calloused and rough, told a similar—
“So do you plan on doing me in somewhere along this lonely stretch, ma’am? Or will you wait till we’re up in those hills?”
Josephine glanced over. “I-I beg your pardon?”
“That rock you tucked in your pocket.” His gaze slid to hers. “Or did you just take a sudden shining to it back there at the last.”
Embarrassed that he’d seen her pick it up and wondering now if he knew something about her, maybe even what she’d done to the mayor’s son, she faced forward, flustered by his accusation. And the startling blue of his eyes. “I . . . I was simply—”
“You have no cause to be afraid of me, Mrs. Dunham. I’ll do you no harm, ma’am.”
“I am not afraid of you, Mr. Coburn. And I’ll have you know I can take care of myself.”
Those eyes met hers again, and she knew he heard the false bravado in her voice as well as she did. But it was the fact that her countenance so clearly bore the evidence of her ability to “take care of herself” that completed her humiliation.
She stared ahead, absentmindedly urging her hair forward on one side until she became aware of what she was doing. And stopped.
They rounded a curve and a creek bed lay ahead, its entry fairly steep and its depths swollen from recent rains.
The dog whined, ears pricking, and Josephine held tight to the seat again, bracing for the crossing.
What she wouldn’t do for a sip of that water.
But not if it meant being more beholden to this man than she already was.
Dodge Coburn expertly guided the wagon down the descent and through the swift current, the wheels creaking and slipping in the rocky bed.
He took it slow and steady, speaking soothingly to the team of mules as he did.
Once they cleared the creek, he brought the wagon to a stop, set the brake, and climbed down.
A sharp whistle, and Jessie bolted to join him.
Josephine turned on the seat, wondering what he was doing and if there was time for her to get a drink.
“No, ma’am. You stay put.”
It was not a request, which only made her want to climb right down and prove herself a self-sufficient, independent woman. Yet, weak as she felt, she doubted she would make it back up without assistance. And the very thought of having to ask him for—
He reappeared, canteen in hand, water dripping from the sides, and held it up to her. Her throat convulsed at the mere promise. She drank and drank and drank, the water cold and crisp. Finally, she paused and dabbed at the corners of her mouth, the left side tender, her breath coming hard.
“Thank you,” she managed, wanting more, but thinking better of it. She held out the canteen.
“Finish it up, if you can.”
So she did, draining the contents until the water sloshed in her belly. It wasn’t exactly sustenance, but it was something.
“More?” he asked.
She shook her head.
A minute later, Jessie bounded back up to the seat, water dripping from her mouth, fairly smiling if that were possible for a dog. Mr. Coburn followed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, his beard damp.
“Thank you again,” Josephine said, meaning it.
“No trouble.” He urged the team onward. “How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?”
“Last night,” she finally admitted, not looking at him.
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a strip of dried beef. Or what was left of it. “It’s not much, but it’s yours if you want it.”
She accepted without hesitation, her mouth watering. “Thank you.” While beef jerky had never been a favorite, too salty for her taste, she attempted to tear off a piece by hand.
“I’m afraid that’s the kind you got to sink your teeth into, ma’am.”
She did, and bit off a thick chunk. Flavors exploded in her mouth.
Pepper, garlic, onion, and . . . another ingredient she couldn’t identify.
She briefly closed her eyes. Delicious. Smooth and smoky.
Her stomach flinched, not quite a spasm, but definitely unpleasant, and no doubt stemming from lack of food.
But knowing even this little amount would help, she chewed all the more.
Still savoring, she shielded her mouth. “This is very good.”
“Glad you like it. But seeing as there’s nothing but water in your belly, you might want to take it easy. See how it sits first.”
“I’ll be fine.” She tore off another piece with her teeth, eager to regain her strength and unable to remember anything tasting so good. After a minute, she grew very aware of the dog’s attention. “Is it all right to give her a bite?”
He gave a nod.
Josephine held out a small piece.
“Easy, Jessie,” he whispered, but the dog was extremely gentle when taking the piece of jerky from her grasp.
Only when Jessie started growling and the wagon stopped did Josephine look up to see two men on horseback stopped in the middle of the road ahead—rifles aimed.
“Whatever happens,” Dodge Coburn whispered, cocking the revolver now in his grip. “Don’t say a word.”
“But what do they—”
“Not . . . a word.”