Page 11 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
“I heard ya all up and got hitched.” His gaze darted to Miss Epps but didn’t linger.
“Pa would have wanted it that way.”
Flint pulled off his hat and held it over his heart. “Heard about your pa’s passing. Sorry. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was.” Andy turned his attention to the milling herd. “You’re a long way from home.”
Flint nodded. “We had us a disaster. Some yahoo threw a cigar on the ground. Stupid thing to do in these dry conditions. We fought a fire for three days. Cattle stampeded all over the place. This lot must have run until they dropped. We’re moving them home slow and easy.” He jammed his hat back on his head. “No telling how many critters we’ve lost.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your troubles.”
“Well, you and your little lady take care. Maybe we’ll see you around in the future.” Waving a hand overhead, he returned to the others, and they continued moving the cows over the hill.
Andy resumed his journey. He glanced at Miss Epps. From the way her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes flashed steely blue, he knew she was offended.
Before he could explain why he’d let Flint believe they were married, she lifted the axe.
He prepared to jump.
4
Della had more than her fill of western shenanigans. What sounded exciting and appealing in aMen of the Weststory was scary, annoying, and—oh! She didn’t even know what to call the past few events. She had half a notion to knock this Andy Shannon fellow in the head and take his wagon. Of course, she wouldn’t. Her pa would roll over in his grave if she did something so heinous.
Besides, Andy looked ready to leap away. And then she’d be in charge of a wagon and a pair of horses. Which would be more adventure than she wanted at the moment.
She lowered the axe but kept a firm hold on the handle. “What do you mean by letting him believe I’m your wife?” Every word burned across her tongue.
“I was thinking of your reputation. Look around you. It’s early morning. There are no homes or towns anywhere. Don’t you think he’d be able to figure out we’d spent the night together?” His fingers tightened so hard on the reins that his knuckles bulged out. “As it is, I don’t know how I’m going to escape without being forced to marry you. At least your father isn’t alive to hunt me down.”
The reality of his answer sat her back on the bench. Pa would certainly have something to say about the consequences for her predicament. She stared straight ahead, her jaw so tight she could hardly get her words out. “My plans do not include getting married.”
“Nor do mine. But I have three older brothers who’ll have something to say about this situation.” He slumped forward. As if marrying her was the worst thing that could happen to him.
“It doesn’t matter what anyone says. I intend to get on the nearest train and go back to Toledo. I’ll figure out how to get my mother into a safe, secure place and proceed with my plans. But she won’t be a mail-order bride again. No siree.” Della knew she was building up a head of steam, but she couldn’t help it. “The two of us have struggled very hard since Pa died to keep a roof over our heads and food in the cupboard. I can’t leave her unless she is taken care of. I promised my pa. Just as I promised him—” She stopped. Andy wouldn’t care about the vows she’d made to her father on his deathbed. Vows she meant to keep.
Before he could ask her to explain—if he even noticed or cared that she’d stopped—she drew in a steadying breath. “What’s your ma going to say about this?” She circled her hand to include herself and the wagon.
“She passed away nine years ago.”
“No! I can’t imagine not having a mother.” No mother or father. She gulped. “I’m doubly sorry.”
He nodded, his attention riveted on the road ahead though she saw nothing but a dusty trail disappearing into the distance.
She carefully searched the horizon until she’d gone full circle. Apart from the cowboys who were long out of sight, there was no sign of human habitation. Suspicion crept up her spine and grabbed the back of her head making it hurt to turn to consider the man beside her.
“Where are we going?” She hoped she sounded calmer than she felt.
Dust billowed up from the horses’ hooves, driven into their faces by the shifting wind.
Andy coughed. He might think he could avoid answering her, but she had to know. She repeated the question in a voice that she hoped informed him of her intent.
A sigh puffed from his mouth. “You see that trunk in the back?” He inclined his head in that direction.
“I saw it.” Crowded to it, touched it, blessed it for providing her a space where she could both hide and enjoy a pocket of air.
“I’m delivering it to a friend.”
Della had never considered herself to be of a suspicious nature but the events of the last—she looked at the sun to estimate the time of day—less than twenty-four hours since she’d stepped from the stagecoach. More than enough time to change her outlook on life. She’d been too trusting.
