Page 10 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
“I know.” She adjusted herself on the seat. “I’m trying to show good manners. But I can’t help but be cautious.”
“Apology accepted.”
She laughed. “Is that what it was?”
He tipped his head. “Sure sounded like it to me. Anyway, I’ll tell Mrs. Bennet you complimented her pickled pork.”
The wagon jolted over a rough spot. Miss Epps clung to the seat. The road smoothed before them and she relaxed.
“You never did tell me who Mrs. Bennet is. A friend? A neighbor?”
“Mrs. Bennet is my housekeeper and a very good one.”
“Does she look after you and your brothers?”
He’d been looking forward to a quiet journey, but it seemed that wasn’t to be. “No, I hired Mrs. Bennet to be my housekeeper. My brothers have their own arrangements.”
“I see.” She looked across the parched landscape, shaded her eyes, and searched the horizon. “Not many people living around here.”
“ Fraid not”
“I understand that’s why men send for mail-order brides. I hope things turn out better for others than it did for my ma.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Hartman wasn’t what you expected.”
“Me too but at least I escaped him.” She turned to study the trail behind them. Seeing nothing to concern her, she faced forward again. Her hand knotted on the axe. “God was protecting me.”
“You said this marriage was part of your plan. What was the rest if you don’t mind me asking?” Not that it mattered one way or the other. He was simply making conversation to pass the time.
She ran her thumb nail up and down the wood of the axe handle. “I have the opportunity to accompany a friend to Europe, but I can’t leave Ma unless she’s in a good situation. We both thought a marriage might give her the security she deserves.”
“Seems she might be better off without marrying.”
“Well, at least without marrying the likes of Mr. Hartman.” The words fired from her.
A billow of dust toward the horizon drew his attention. And hers. She gripped her weapon like her life depended on it. He could have told her he would protect her from Mr. Hartman, but she didn’t have any reason to believe him. Let alone trust hm.
The distance between them and the moving cloud of dust narrowed. He made out a herd of cattle—he estimated about fifty—and at least four men trailing after them.
The closest cowboy turned aside and rode in their direction.
Andy pulled on the reins and drew to a halt when the rider was close enough to talk.
The cowboy lowered the bandana that covered his mouth and nose. “Howdy.” His clothes were the color of the gray dust indicating he been riding behind the animals for some time.
“Good day.” Andy and the cowboy eyed each other a moment. The cowboy’s eyes shifted to Miss Epps, lingered a moment before returning to Andy.
“Where you moving the cows to?” The rifle was within reach if they were rustlers and objected to his question.
“This is part of the Bar B Bar herd.” A ranch to the north of the Shannons. “Name’s Flint. I work for the Bar B Bar. And who’d you be?”
“Andy Shannon.” Before he could say more Flint sat up.
“One of the Shannon boys. Pleased to meet you. And Mrs. Shannon.” He tipped his hat slightly.
Miss Epps made a sound. Andy guessed she’d protest at being called his wife.
He nudged her and whispered, “Let it go.” Better for everyone if people thought they were married.
