Page 33 of Conveniently Wed
He shook his head, attempting to loosen the ties holding the canvas closed, forgetting about his swollen hand momentarily. He pulled back with a hiss.
She shifted him out of the way with a gentle shoulder and began unknotting the ties.
“The horses are holding it steady—for now. If we unharness them, the whole thing could go.”
“Fran?” Emma’s voice sounded frantic with a hint of a sob. There was more shuffling. The wagon shifted an inch and Edgargrabbed the tailgate with one hand, not that he could really stop it if it was going over.
“Be still,” he said, words sharp this time. He wasn’t used to being questioned—his brothers knew who was in charge and followed his directions without question.
Fran glanced at him, and he saw the worry on her face again.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” she cooed. “We’re trying to get you out, but you have to be patient.”
He snorted.
She finally got the ties undone and the flap tucked back enough for him to duck his head and see inside.
The girl was half-buried beneath two crates, her back to the canvas on the low side of the wagon. Another two crates balanced precariously above her head—and if they had any weight in them at all, she could get hurt if they fell on top of her.
She was in a full panic, struggling against the weight pinning one of her legs.
“Emma. Emma.”
The girl’s eyes finally looked up at Fran’s calm, soothing tone just behind his shoulder.
“I’m coming in there with you.” Fran glanced up at him, silently asking his permission at the same time as she comforted her sister.
“Coddling,” he mumbled.
She tapped his chin with one forefinger. “You seemed to like my coddling last night. You said it reminded you of your ma.”
He had? He didn’t remember that and didn’t want to talk about his ma, so he steadied her as she stepped over the tailgate and into the mess in the back.
“Be careful,” he warned her. Not because he was worried about her getting hurt.
She glanced once back over her shoulder at him. He did his best to brace his feet and steady the whole shebang. He felt a little like David against a Goliath of a wagon.
“I’m stuck,” Emma said, still struggling. “It’s like before…he’s got me pinned?—”
“Ssh.” Fran could barely reach, but she put her palm on Emma’s cheek. Soothing her.
Her next words made his blood run cold. “We’re not in Tennessee anymore, remember? There’s no one here but you and me and this cowboy, right?”
She looked back at him, chagrined. Probably hadn’t wanted him to hear.
Her sister began to calm, and Edgar’s sudden insight as to why they’d fled their orphanage made him hot and angry all at once. Someone had attacked Emma? No wonder she seemed so fragile.
He worked to steady himself. His anger wasn’t going to help anybody.
“Can you reach that top crate, there? It’s teetering—don’t want it to fall on her.” He spoke softly and gently, like he might to a horse if it’d spooked.
He directed Fran on moving the crates. She passed them to him out of the wagon so they wouldn’t throw anything else off balance.
When she finally got her sister loose, the other girl threw her arms around Fran and clung.
“C’mon outta there,” he said. But more tenderly this time.
The girls picked their way through the overturned detritus and he helped first Emma, then Fran out with his good left hand.
