Page 45 of The Outlaw and the Heir

It was, at least in my estimation, a fairly good save, and although Ambrose still gave me a look of warning, I could see him relax a little as he turned back to his father. "You always said it's a fool who tries to change the things about a man that make him him. As much as I don't like it, that's just who Samuel is and how he is. If he hasn't tried to shut his mouth before, I don't see why he'd change it anytime soon."

His father turned his head slowly to stare at him with that same unyielding expression that spoke volumes. There was the pervading sense that he was weighing Ambrose's words and everything else he knew about his son. Considering he wasn'tknown for being gentle, I could again understand why Ambrose would hate that. I squashed any discomfort I felt because I didn't care what this stranger had to say or what he believed about me...because he wasn't my father.

After the silence stretched for far too long, he turned to me. "My son might be willing to tolerate your behavior for reasons of his own, but tread carefully when you interrupt a family discussion."

I shrugged. “I stand by what I said."

His eyes searched my face slowly. “Every one of them?"

"Completely," I said with what felt like utter confidence. I meant it, of course, but what made me wonder was what exactly he wanted me to renew my confidence in. He wasn't someone to waste words, so if he was asking that exact question, he was thinking of something specific. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of having said something that might have had a greater meaning than I intended. My words were as much tools and weapons as my mind, not being the one in control of them was...unsettling.

He stared again, but before it went on too long, Hipolita cleared her throat. "Mr. Isaiah, I know you didn't eat supper earlier. Why don't you let me bring you something? Otherwise, you'll end up going all day without a bite to eat."

"Are you trying to save them, Hipolita?" he asked, and for the first time, I thought there might be an attempt at a smile on his face as he gazed at her.

"These two are grown men who don't need saving," she said with a huff. "You, however, are prone to not eating when you get caught up in that office of yours. So why don't you let me bring you some coffee and food so you only have to go without much sleep tonight instead of food and sleep."

"I've never been one to turn down an offer like that from you," he said, returning to his office. "There's no rush, thank you, Hipolita."

"Of course, Mr. Isaiah," she said, sounding pleased.

There was another pause before we heard the office door click, and Ambrose let out a breath that I wasn't even sure he knew he'd been holding. We both glanced at Hipolita, who was smiling at the two of us before gesturing for us to follow her. Neither of us hesitated, following her back toward the kitchen at the opposite end of the house from Mr. Isaiah. The smell of the food was still in the air, and I sat back down at the counter to resume my meal, even though it had sadly lost most of its heat, it was still delicious.

"You could give her some thanks," Ambrose grumbled at me as we entered.

"For what?" I wondered. "You heard her. We're grown men who don't need any saving, after all. Or, maybeyouneeded saving, but I sure didn't."

"He was ready to take your head off before she got between the two of you," he said with a shake of his head.

"Are you kidding me? If he wanted to have my head, all he'd have to do is tell you to get it. Or someone else, for that matter. I'm literally here because the sheriff handed me over as your responsibility, which means you all get to decide what happens to me. So if he wants me dead,reallywants it, he's just got to give the order, and it'll happen without anything I say or do to change it."

"Well, ya certainly know how to push him to order that."

"No, he's...I'm not quite sure what he thinks of me, but he doesn't want me dead, which is why I'm still alive. But he's...I'm not sure...curious?"

Hipolita set a kettle on the stove over the fire. “He's watching you, measuring you. If you think you're good at taking the measure of another person, you still have a long way to go before you're anything like Mr. Isaiah. I don't want to guess what hewants to find, but there is certainlysomethingabout you that has his attention."

"Well, that certainly is...fun," I said, nibbling on the last bit of toast. The eggs might be no good now they were cold, but bread toasted in pork fat was delicious no matter what the temperature, especially since it was still firm and crunchy.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Ambrose said with a roll of his eyes. "My dad being interested isn't always a good thing."

"Well...that's the fun in life, the gambles you have to take," I said with a shrug.

His brow arched. “You don't gamble."

I had forgotten I’d given him that little speech about my views on risk-taking. Thankfully, I was much better at hiding my reactions than Ambrose, and I rolled my eyes and came up with a proper response. "I said I don't gamble, and I'm not gambling now. But since I already have his attention by virtue of being myself, I might as well accept it as gracefully as possible."

"There is nothing virtuous or graceful about you," he said with a roll of his eyes, snatching the last bit of bread from my plate and popping it into his mouth.

"And some dare accusemeof being a thief," I said, not begrudging him a piece of bread. He had eaten no more than I had today, and arguing with his brother and defending his opinion to his father had to be hungry work. Still...it had been tasty.

"Sit down," Hipolita said, pointing at Ambrose with a utensil. "You haven't eaten either, and you're not leaving this house until you do."

Ambrose opened his mouth, sighed, and sat down next to me. I could see the shadow on his brow as he bent over the counter and stared into its clean but marked surface. It was hard to tell what was bothering him the most, his argument with his brother, defending himself—and me, for that matter—to hisfather, or if perhaps it was what he found out in the desert that was getting to him.

"So," I said, leaning back in my chair against the wall to face Ambrose. "Is your brother always that charming?"

"Charming?" Ambrose asked, nose wrinkling as he frowned at me.

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