Page 37 of Conveniently Wed
She gathered the last of the tin spoons and added the pieces to her stew pot, already filled with the rest of the soiled dishes.
With one last glimpse of Emma making her bed in the wagon, she turned the corner.
Hidden behind the wagon, she heard the voices near the bedrolls but couldn’t be sure if they knew she was there.
“There’re at least two of them, judging by the tracks.”
She became instantly aware at the serious tone in one of the cowhands’ voice. Two of whom?
“Looks like they circled back, kinda like they’re following us.”
“How long have they been following? Could you tell?” That was Edgar’s voice.
Her heart began to pound. Someone was following them?
“Maybe since yesterday. Maybe today. Hard to tell. I tried to catch a glimpse but either they were long gone or holed up for the night.”
“Hmm.”
“You thinking it’s rustlers?”
She was thinking something entirely different. What if Underhill’s men had tracked her and Emma this far?
Heart thrumming like a bird’s wings, she rose from her crouch by the stew pot.
Should they try to run?
A glance back at the wagon and the slight shadow of Emma’s profile within calmed her very slightly.
Emma was safe—for now. The two of them alone on the prairie? It would be much more dangerous for them, wouldn’t it?
Knowing Emma was safe for the moment released some of the tension in her shoulders. Only a bit.
If Underhill’s men were still chasing them, what could she do?
She grabbed the pot and rushed out into the darkness, tears and fear blinding her. She dropped to her knees at the creekbank, thoughts racing.
They were in the middle of nowhere. In between two small towns in the wilds of Wyoming. Even if she were able to spirit Emma away, where could they go for help?
She scrubbed the first plate violently. She washed the second the same way, acting out her anger and the fear twisting her gut.
It didn’t help.
She wanted to shout at God. They’d made a deal, hadn’t they? She would do anything if He would keep Emma safe.
And now this.
Tears rushed in again. With Emma around all day, she had no release for the fear and frustration that constantly hounded her. But now, in the darkness, there was no one to see her.
She bowed her head and let them come silently.
She knew God didn’t owe her anything. That she couldn’t really strike a deal with Him. She vaguely remembered a Bible verse about His sun shining on both the good and evil both.
But she’d begged for God’s protection for Emma. Where was His answer?
A branch cracked behind her, and she whirled, one hand brushing at the tears on her cheeks, the other scrambling through her dishes for anything that might be used as a weapon. A knife, perhaps?
She came up with a spoon.
