Page 50 of Conveniently Wed
“And from what I can tell,” he went on, “neither one of you has a change of clothes.”
Now she blushed, pink rising in her pale cheeks.
“If you get in that wagon, you’ll be wet and miserable and it’s not like there’s all that much room to move around.”
She bit her lip, considering his words.
“Besides, you’re likely to just get in trouble again if I leave you to your own devices.”
She bumped his elbow and this time he grinned, because teasing her felt right.
It was the work of a few minutes to string the canvas he reserved for wrapping up his bedroll at night off the side of the wagon to two of the nearer trees, creating a temporary canopy. The rain pelted into it, but nothing got through.
Then he found the dry tinder and kindling they kept in the bottom of one of the covered cooking pots, so they could start a fire in rainy conditions like these.
He’d been wet before, but once he’d stepped foot in that creek, he’d gotten soaked. He couldn’t get any wetter, so he set out among the brushy trees and found some twigs and branches that had been sheltered at the base of a fallen log and were mostly dry. Soon he had a nice fire going and both girls huddled next to it beneath his bedroll blanket, which was mostly dry due to being wrapped tightly.
Color was coming back into both of their cheeks, and he felt a responding warmth in his gut. He liked taking care of Fran and her sister.
Then he noticed Emma had that little rat dog cradled in her arms too. Thing was totally dry—must’ve been hiding in the wagon the whole time.
“Let’s have a look at that foot,” he said, settling down between the two of them.
Emma looked to Fran for reassurance, and Fran nodded.
Emma hiked her skirt up a couple of inches, and he worked at getting her shoe off, but the laces were knotted too tightly and were wet to boot.
“Here. Your hand.” Fran knelt before her sister, careful to skirt the fire, and pushed his hands away. She struggled with the laces, too, but stubbornly kept at it until they loosened. “There,” she said, sitting back, her satisfaction evident in her raised chin.
He started to take off Emma’s old, worn shoe. “You want to tell me what you were thinking, running off like that?”
Fran inhaled sharply. He hadn’t said the words unkindly, maybe a little sternly. But look at the danger the girl had put herself in, not to mention him and Fran!
Emma remained silent as he took off the shoe.
“Emma? What made you run off?” he pushed.
“She doesn’t have to say. You don’t have to answer,” Fran told her sister, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Yes, she does. Your babying her isn’t going to solve what’s going on here?—”
“I’m not babying her!” Fran protested. The color in her face was growing, changing from a healthy pink to a red that he recognized from some of Breanna’s tantrums in the past. “She’s not a boy, not one of your brothers you can order around.” She was really getting fired up now.
He pretended not to hear her, stripping off Emma’s sock, careful not to jar her foot.
“She’smyresponsibility, not yours?—”
“You’remy responsibility, so that makes Emma my charge, too. Our wedding might have been short, but I do remember promising to protect you. And that extends to your family,” he countered calmly.
“Underhill’s men are afterme,” Emma burst out. “Fran’s done all this for me, ran away from Memphis, marriedyou—” She choked on the emotion she was spewing and put her hands over her eyes as she began to sob.
He let go of her foot and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
Fran put her arm around her sister, glaring at him as if to say,now look what you’ve done.
But then Emma pushed away from Fran as well. “Maybe if I just let them capture me…maybe if you didn’t always have to take care of me you would be happy. And not have had to marry a cowboy!”
“Is that what you think?” He saw the emotion fill Fran’s eyes but she blinked and her words emerged even, with only a small wobble.
