Page 84 of Conveniently Wed
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Edgar snapped.
He was too raw. He felt like he was five years old again, and had just realized that his ma wasn’t coming back to get him like she’d said. Disappointed and hurt…
…because he loved her.
What a fine time to realize it. At the same time that his faith in her had been shattered.
Well, emotion didn’t have any place on a cattle drive. He had a job to do.
“We’ve got a job to do,” he reminded his brother and himself. “Get the cattle to Cheyenne. That’s it.”
“Then what?” Matty asked.
“I don’t know.” He really didn’t.
They made camp late, after nightfall. Fran didn’t know if Edgar pushed so hard for the sake of his papa’s cattle sale, or because he wanted to reach Cheyenne to get rid of her.
She had a guess as to which it was.
He’d stayed away from the wagon the entire rest of the afternoon, although Seb had stayed beside them the whole time. The federal marshal had ridden several paces behind or beside them.
She didn’t know what to think about that man. Either Underhill had enough sway back in Memphis to convince the lawman to ride along and apprehend her, or he’d paid off the man. Whatever the case, it didn’t bode well for her when they got her in front of a judge. If he could manufacture evidence enough or pay witnesses, she could be convicted of a crime she didn’t do.
But at least Emma would come out of this unharmed.
Edgar’s refusal to listen, to consider her side of things, hurt. But she knew he’d been in a hurry to get the cattle moving again after facing off with Underhill and his associates.
She held one tiny sliver of hope that he’d be considering things over the afternoon and would at least allow her to explain once they stopped for the evening.
Maybe that made her foolish, but she couldn’t give up.
What they’d shared earlier in the day, lying together under the spring sun and simplybeing, was real. It wasn’t the passion they’d shared in the stolen kisses—although that was there too, underneath. It was therelationship, the friendship, the togetherness.
That’s what she didn’t want to lose.
And if she could convince him of it, that’s what he needed too.
Seb had taken over the reins as it got darker, and when Edgar finally called a halt, he guided the wagon into a shallow wash. The grasses were so tall in this meadow that with the wagon hidden in the depression, only the very top of the canvas was visible unless one was so close they were nearly on top of it.
“Edgar says not to use a cookfire tonight,” Seb told her in a low voice.
“But what about the cowboys?”
“It’ll be hardtack and more cold biscuits.” He didn’t look thrilled about the prospect, but he winked, obviously trying to reassure her. “We’ll be in Cheyenne before you know it and we’ll sort all this out. And get a hot meal!”
He hopped out of the wagon and met the marshal several feet away, guiding the other man several more feet as he chatted with him. They were too far for her to hear what was said.
Fran didn’t feel good about the man being in their camp, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice. At least Edgar hadn’t sent her on with Underhill and his men.
A large form approached through the darkness and her heart leapt with simultaneous fear and hope.
“It’s me.”
Matty.
Her heart thumped once in disappointment. “Everyone okay out there?”
“The cowboys are a little on edge.”
