Chapter 5
Please let him be clever.
It was a strange prayer, but God must be used to those from her, for the man replied without missing a beat.
“You were supposed to meet me a mile back, Lizzie.” He shook his head in a credible rendition of an exasperated brother. “C’mon. We’ve still got a ways to go today.”
The hand on her arm loosened, and she drew in a breath of relief. Maybe they could convince these men to let her go. “I said Montgomery’s Tavern,” she said with a toss of her head. “Which you would know if you paid attention.”
“And I said Mud Creek.” He gave a long-suffering sigh that rubbed her the wrong way, although she knew he played a part just as she did. “Anyone with half a brain would know Montgomery’s Tavern isn’t a likely meeting spot, not today.”
She suppressed a zing of annoyance. They couldn’t stand in the street trading insults all day.
Not if she wanted to put the rebels behind her and get on with her journey.
“Well, you’re here and not a moment too soon.
” The grudging tone was easy to assume. She turned to the man who still held her arm. “Might I be on my way now?”
“Aye, let ’er go.” The man on the street, the one in the makeshift uniform, gestured for her to join the young farmer in his wagon. “We’ve got things to discuss that’re more important than one lass who doesn’t know north from south.” The men around him joined in derisive laughter.
Head high, Charlotte jerked her hand out of her captor’s grasp, led Scarlett to the wagon, and tied her to the buckboard. What did she care what a few discontented yokels had to say? Still, it galled her they thought she’d make such a silly mistake.
It wasn’t until she’d taken a seat beside the man in the wagon that she realized she’d most likely jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
She’d all but forced the man to give her a ride.
A lady is never alone with a man who isn’t her husband.
Mama had been fierce about this point, though ten-year-old Charlotte scarcely understood the danger.
Why would she want to be with anyone but Simon and Papa?
Charlotte glanced at the man. He seemed kind enough, but she shuddered to think what Mama would have said about her current situation. He slapped the reins, and the wagon lurched forward. Tense silence stretched between them until they’d rounded a bend and Montgomery’s was finally out of sight.
“I imagine I’m not lucky enough to have guessed it, am I? Lizzie?” The man glanced at her with a questioning half smile.
“Ah, no, not Lizzie. Charlotte, er, that is, Miss Fulton.” She had no intention of giving this man her real surname, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be courteous.
He cocked an eyebrow at her hesitation but still nodded affably. “Joshua Robertson.”
She cleared her throat. “I very much appreciate your help.”
He scrutinized her as though wondering if she spoke the truth. “I told you not to go to Montgomery’s.”
Charlotte bit back a tart retort. He’d helped her out of a difficult situation. She wouldn’t quarrel with him.
“Your mare seems well.”
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at Scarlett. No sign of injury. Yet. “Where is the next blacksmith?”
“Twenty miles or more.”
Twenty miles? The sun was already setting. She cast a nervous glance at the man beside her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hasty to leave Montgomery’s. “I’d best head back to Montgomery’s then. If I go straight to the blacksmith and explain my situation . . .”
The man made no attempt to slow the wagon.
She wasn’t even sure he’d heard her words until he gave a regretful shake of his head.
“Sorry, miss, but I can’t let you go back there.
Those men won’t let you go if they find you sneaking around a second time.
” He turned his head to look her full in the face, and she caught her breath at the intensity in his eyes. “It’s not safe.”
Heaven save her from men who thought they knew her business better than she did. “I was not sneaking.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re familiar with these parts, are you?
” He sent her a sharp stare reminiscent of her initial assessment of the man.
He might be dressed like a farmer and driving an old wagon that had seen better days, but he was clever.
“Of course you’re not,” he continued, answering his own question.
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t have wandered into that mess back there.
” He jerked his head in the direction of the inn.
“I wasn’t wandering. I need to . . . well, never mind.” Every second they bickered only delayed her. “I need to see to my horse.” She forced the words out between teeth clenched together in annoyance. Without Scarlett, she had no chance of finding her brother.
“Not likely she’ll come to harm at this pace,” he said.
If she’d been standing, she would have released her annoyance with a gratifying stomp of her foot.
As it was, she contented herself with gripping the wagon seat until her fingers cramped.
Her impulsive actions put her at this man’s mercy.
She knew nothing about him, other than liking the look of his strong, honest face.
Maybe Fulton was right. She was too na?ve to be gallivanting around the countryside on her own. It would soon be dark, and she had no idea how far it was to Mrs. Norris’s. She drew herself up. Well, she was here now, and she wasn’t about to give up her quest on account of one overbearing man.
“I must ride,” she said, her voice flat and determined. “I don’t have time to travel at this speed.” The wagon didn’t slow. “If you won’t stop the wagon, I’ll jump.”
He started at this and looked down at her face as though trying to determine if she was in earnest. She met his gaze. “No need for that,” he said. “Listen, I’m heading to Mrs. Norris’s. It’s a respectable inn. You could stay there tonight and continue on in the morning.”
Relief loosened the tension in her shoulders. Mrs. Norris’s. Exactly where Fulton told her to go. She wouldn’t be so off schedule after all. “Very well,” she said. Then, realizing how ungracious she sounded, she added, “Thank you.”
“Where are you heading?” Joshua asked. Charlotte hesitated. “Mayhap there’s a closer smithy,” he explained, a tinge of impatience in his voice.
He made a good point, and she decided to trust him with the essentials of her journey. “I’m heading west.”
His head swung around, his brows raised in surprised disapproval. “West? So you’ll leave the north road?”
“Yes,” she said, already regretting she’d told him her destination. It was no business of his where she went.
“You followed a blazed trail before?”
“Blazed?” She wondered what that had to do with her brother’s homestead and had a sinking feeling she was about to find out.
“Aye. They chop the lower branches off the trees in the spring. Cut away the saplings.”
Charlotte nodded. “I see. So the trail shouldn’t be hard to follow.” Trees with their lower branches lopped off would be easy to spot. It wasn’t like she had an unwieldy wagon to navigate.
“Wrong.” The man seemed to relish every opportunity to contradict her. “Branches have had the summer to grow and cover the stumps, and raspberry brambles and grapevines spread like wildfire. It’s hard for me to find, never mind someone new to the bush.”
The irritation in his voice made her hackles rise, but she bit back a sharp retort.
Ladies do not argue with gentlemen. You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
Mama’s advice had always rubbed Charlotte the wrong way, but perhaps her mother had a point.
Instead of treating this man like the enemy, she ought to be mining him for information.
Twilight had fallen and there was no time to waste.
She’d need every bit of advice she could get, no matter how irritating the source.
“It sounds as though you’re familiar with the bush.” Charlotte pushed her lips into what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Perhaps you could give me some pointers.”
A crease grew across his forehead, visible even in the gathering gloom. “The bush is no place for a woman alone. You’d best turn right around and head back home.”
She inhaled sharply, her plans to charm information out of him evaporating. “I’m hardly on a pleasure trip, sir.” His eyes widened at her sharp tone, but she was past caring. “And I don’t require your assistance.”
I don’t require your assistance.
Her voice held a tone he’d heard before, the tone of an employer talking to a servant.
The voice of the farmers who turned him off as soon as the harvest was in, never mind he had no place to go for the winter.
Suddenly Joshua felt the rough homespun of his clothing and the oft-mended leather of his boots.
He raised his hand, barely stopping himself from doffing his cap.
His hand curled into a fist. He didn’t need to bow to authority any longer.
He worked his own land and answered to no one except God.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help a person in need.
He sent a sidelong glance at the girl beside him, in time to see her clasp her hands together in her lap.
She might seem sure of herself, but the tremor in her fingers gave her away.
She was scared and alone, no matter how she tried to hide it from him.
“Mrs. Norris’s is a half hour up the road,” he said. “It strikes me we might not want to arrive together.” There’d be plenty of speculation if he showed up with a young, unmarried girl in tow.
She flushed. “Ah, yes. Quite right.”
“I’ll drop you off here. You can start out with your mare, and I’ll follow behind.” He looked up at the sky. “It’s a clear night and the moon will be out soon. You can’t miss it.”
She nodded, dislodging a few more strands of chestnut hair.
“Here,” he said, rummaging in the sack behind the seat. “Put this on.” He handed her his old fur cap, the kind you could pull down low to cover the ears. “It’ll do a sight better to hide that hair of yours.”
She stared at the cap and for a moment he thought she might reject his offer. Not surprising. It had seen better days.
But then she tossed aside her loose felt hat and jammed the fur cap over her hair. She jumped down and strode to her horse, sparing a moment to croon soft words into the mare’s ear before leading her past the wagon.
As she passed, she turned and looked up, a tentative smile on her face. “Thank you.”
Joshua was struck silent. In the twilight, her face was luminous. Her eyes glowed with purpose and gratitude. He’d never been on the receiving end of a look like that, and he found he liked it. More than he should.
The strange emptiness he felt as she walked away must be relief. Her well-being would soon no longer be his concern. Judging by the magnificent mare Miss Fulton rode, she had a home and a family who took care of her. She didn’t need his help.
Still, the tension in Joshua’s shoulders mounted. Why would a young woman travel across the countryside alone and dressed as a boy? He wanted to lecture her on the risk she took and escort her right back to where she belonged. Of course, she wouldn’t thank him for interfering.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he slapped the reins and followed her, urging Bess to pick up her pace.
Not because he was worried about the girl.
Of course not. Because he’d wasted enough time.
He had a mission to fulfill and five pounds on the line.
He couldn’t let himself be waylaid by one headstrong woman who wouldn’t follow good advice when it stared her in the face.
Besides, he couldn’t even take care of his own family. What made him think he could keep her safe?