Page 35 of A Fortune for the Outlaw's Daughter

“Yes, we do,” she answered. “I’ll wash my hands and serve some with the fish.”

Cole hid his grin again as Whiskey Jack lifted both brows until they almost touched his cap. The old man rose off his stump. “Well, come on, boy, guess we better wash, too.” He waved his stick at his bird. “Don’t touch my fish or you’ll be in that pan for breakfast.”

The bird squawked and strutted toward the water along with everyone else.

“Women like to do that,” Whiskey Jack said. “Turn everyone into raccoons. Washing hands. Washing food. Washing clothes.”

Already having enough to think about, Cole held his opinion, and shortly they all walked back to the fire, where they ate fish and raisins.

Maddie enamored Whiskey Jack as quickly as she had Truman Schlagel back in Bittersweet. She captivated Homer, too. The bird rubbed his head against her knee like a housecat looking for a scratch.

Gran would be impressed. She’d told him to watch out for silly and prissy women. Gran had been the only one who understood how smothered he’d felt by his mother. Rachel, too.

Cole was lost in imagining Gran and Maddie meeting when a squawk brought his attention back to the present. Maddie and Whiskey Jack were laughing at how Homer was saying Maddie’s name and squawking with self-imposed pride at getting it right.

“You have a protector, now, girl,” Whiskey Jack said. “Not even a grizzly bear would dare get close to you. Homer will see to that.”

Maddie laughed. “He can be a bit frightful.”

Before Whiskey Jack started in praising his bird again, Cole rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He winked at the concern in Maddie’s gaze and grinned as her cheeks turned red. Getting such reactions out of her gave him an inner thrill. However, this afternoon still weighed heavy on his mind. Maddie could have died falling off that ridge.

In the first tent he found her bag of clothes and then gathered up their blankets. Bundling everything together, he carried it all into the next tent. There he cleared out a space on the canvas covering the ground and, using some of the furs piled in one corner, made a pallet, adding their blankets to the top and setting her bag of clothes on top of them. She’d want to change out of her muddy dress before going to bed, and a flash of her wearing little more than her underclothes danced in his head. He wouldn’t mind snuggling up to her dressed like that, or not dressed at all.

Cole shook his head, trying to shatter the idea, but it had stuck, and would take a very strong will to make it disappear.

He returned to the fire. “Everything’s in the tent,” he said before nodding toward the sun that was level with the earth, yet neither sinking nor rising. “It’s been a long day.”

A tremendous sigh gathered inside Maddie. She didn’t want to be rude, but she was exhausted. Thanking Lucky for his thoughtfulness with a nod, she brushed a hand over Homer’s head one last time before gathering her skirt to rise off the stump. The crusted mud was hard beneath her palm, and she turned to Lucky, wondering how to tell him she’d need some time alone.

“I assumed you’d like to change,” he said, taking a seat on the stump he’d sat on earlier. “I put your bag in the tent.”

A rush of warmth flooded her system, including her cheeks. She’d never met anyone as considerate as him.

“Take your time,” he said. “I’m going to visit for a while.”

A bit tongue-tied, Maddie nodded before managing to whisper, “Thank you.”

The endearing warmth she felt heightened as she entered the tent. Lucky had also laid out a pallet for them to sleep upon, complete with their blankets. The sight of her bundle of clothes made her feel a bit misty-eyed. Smitty had watched out for her, but not even he had been as caring as Lucky. She didn’t know what to think of all that, nor how to act.

Kissing him this afternoon still hovered in her thoughts, which was frustrating. Now that they’d arrived, gold should be the only thing on her mind.

Convinced she could control whatever was going on inside her, Maddie pulled her clean clothes from the bag and shook the wrinkles from the dress Mrs. Smother had provided. It was a colorless gray—the blue one she’d put on after her bath had disappeared after that first night. This one was a lot like her old one and as serviceable. She’d added the cost of it to the funds she owed Trig. Other dresses came to mind once more, colorful, fancy ones, and this time she wondered what Lucky would think seeing her dressed in such clothing.

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