McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [111]
Holt gave him the telegram. “You acquainted with Heddy Flett?”
R.S. nodded. “We’ve met,” he allowed.
“Show her that wire, and she’ll pay you what you’re owed,” Holt told him. The Appaloosa danced and nickered, eager to catch up with the rest of the outfit. “When I get back to San Antonio, I’d better find you hard at work on Gabe’s case.”
R.S. doffed his hat, tucked the telegram inside the sweat-stained crown, and bowed again. “Your confidence in me—such as it is—is well placed. I will see you in San Antone.”
“You surely will,” Holt replied. Then, with a nod of farewell, he reined Traveler around and gave the animal his head. Rafe kept pace on his gelding.
“You trust him?” Rafe asked.
“Right now,” Holt answered, “I don’t have a choice.”
LORELEI, RUMMY FROM lack of sleep, half expected the whole Comanche nation to be waiting around the first bend in the trail. When there was no sign of them, she let herself wonder who it was Rafe and Holt had ridden back to meet. Curiosity woke her up like a splash of cold well water against her face.
Only minutes had passed when they returned, Holt passing within a dozen feet of her and Seesaw and never so much as glancing in her direction.
Lorelei told herself she ought to be glad to go unnoticed, given that she was fairly sure Holt had seen her tuck the parcel containing Mary Davis’s bolt of gingham under the wagon seat before they left Heddy’s that morning. He was bound to plague her about it, strict as he was about what he considered superfluous cargo. For all that, she felt snubbed, as surely as if she’d just been expelled from the Ladies’ Benevolence Society all over again.
“You look a little down in the mouth,” Rafe said, startling her. Thinking about Holt, she hadn’t heard his horse draw up beside Seesaw.
She hoped the shadow cast by the brim of her hat would hide her expression. “I’m fine, Rafe,” she replied pleasantly.
He resettled his hat. “You’re not much of a liar,” he said, with a companionable grin. “Guess that’s one of the reasons I like you.”
Lorelei’s smile was genuine, if a bit wobbly. “Thank you,” she said. “I think.”
He laughed. His gelding strained at the bit, wanting to run on ahead, and Rafe controlled the animal with barely perceptible motions of one hand. “I guess I should have warned you against playing poker with my brother,” he said. “He’s an old hand at it.”
“It was my lesson to learn,” Lorelei replied, “and I’ve learned it.”
“I thought maybe you’d want a chance to win your money back.”
Lorelei shook her head. “I might be gullible, but I’m not that foolish,” she said.
“So you mean to cut your losses and run?” Rafe asked easily.
“Cut my losses, yes,” Lorelei said. “Run? Never.”
Rafe smiled. “That’s something I can’t even imagine. You running away, I mean.”
They rode in companionable silence for a while, and Lorelei wondered why it was so easy to be around Rafe and so difficult to be around Holt. If consulted on the matter, Melina would surely have said it was love. Lorelei had no intention of consulting her.
Holt was demanding, opinionated, unreasonable and reckless. He seemed to think the whole world was a trail ride, and he was in command. She couldn’t love a man like that.
Could she?
THEY TRAVELED OVER hard terrain all that day. The heat was brutal; the glare of the sun, relentless. More than once, Lorelei thought with yearning of the shade trees back home on her ranch, of the soft featherbeds and savory meals at Heddy’s place. She watched the horizon for Indians, and stayed out of Holt’s way as much as possible.
Not a word passed between them, though her eyes tracked him until it seemed his image was burned like a brand on the inside of her forehead.
At sunset, they stopped to make camp alongside a lonely spring. There were no trees, and Lorelei felt exposed. If the Comanches came, there would be no place to take shelter.
To keep busy, and thus occupy her worried mind, she helped John Cavanagh build the