Chapter Eight

Guilt gnawed at Caroline for the next half hour. She tried to eat, but her usually fluffy biscuits tasted like chalk, so she fed them to Jasper, who preferred carrots but would eat anything.

“I know you’re not fond of Nick,” she said to the mule while he chomped down the biscuits, “but we can’t leave him wandering out there alone. We found him, so we’re responsible for his safety. He might run into a buffalo, or a wolf, or a snake. He might fall down a cliff and hit his head again.”

Jasper tossed his mane and brayed.

She patted the mule’s flank. “You’re right. We’d better go after him.”

She threw on the saddle, hooked up the travois, and they set off in the direction Nick had taken. About an hour later, she spied a lone figure trudging through the knee-high sagebrush and kicked Jasper’s sides. “Hurry up,” she urged. “Unless you want to help me lift him when he has a heat stroke.”

Jasper snuffled but picked up his pace.

“Nick, stop!” Caroline called out. But he showed no sign he’d heard. She pursed her lips. The man could give Jasper lessons in mulishness.

When they caught up with their quarry a few minutes later, Jasper nudged him in the shoulder and snorted in his ear. Nick swore and shoved the mule’s muzzle away.

“Why does he keep doing that?” he complained.

“He likes you. You’re two of a kind.”

Nick snorted, and Caroline burst out laughing. “You even sound alike.”

“I have nothing in common with that animal.” He scowled at Jasper, who echoed his snort.

“You could be brothers. Now will you stop walking and climb up behind me?”

“No.”

“Then would you at least like to start walking in the right direction?”

Nick halted and glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Don’t tell me...”

“Oh, yes. You need to backtrack at least two miles to reach the right trail. Then it’s another three miles to Como Bluff.” Her lips twitched. “Want a ride on my travois?”

“No.”

“You’ll feel different in another hour.” She reached down, unclipped a canteen from her saddle, and tossed it to him. “Here, maybe your brain will work better after you’ve had a drink.”

Nick caught the canteen, unscrewed the lid, and took a long swig. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before replacing the lid. “Thanks.”

“Are you ready to see reason and accept a ride?”

He hesitated and scanned the wide, flat horizon to the east and south. “Five miles?”

Caroline nodded. “Five long, rough, hot miles.”

He squinted up at her, shading his brow with his hand. “You’re not going to make me wear that bonnet again, are you?”

“Not unless you want to.” She patted the saddlebag. “I brought it, though, just in case.”

Pride and obstinacy warred with common sense across his handsome face, which was rapidly becoming sunburned in the areas that should have been covered by a hat. “Oh, for pity’s sake,” Caroline exclaimed in disgust. “Stop this foolishness and give me your hand.”

He still hesitated. “On one condition.”

She bit her tongue. He was in no position to demand anything. “And what is that?”

“That you refrain from nagging or scolding for the duration of the trip.”

She sniffed. “That will make for a very quiet ride.”

“Exactly.”

She turned her head to study the same landscape he’d just examined. “I find I have very little to say to you at the moment, anyway.”

“Perfect.” He grabbed the back of the saddle and vaulted up behind her.

****

Nick had planned to avoid holding on to Caroline’s waist, but the sway of Jasper’s gait soon pushed that thought from his head. No matter how hard his knees squeezed the mule’s smooth sides, without stirrups he found nothing to grip. On the third step, he lost his balance and nearly slid off sideways. Only his fingers grasping the back of the saddle saved him from an ignominious fall. Damn!

“You’ll notice I’m not saying a word,” Caroline commented without turning her head.

“Could have fooled me,” he muttered as he struggled to stay upright without a satisfactory handhold.

“You may hold my waist,” she said. “Just pretend you’re caught in a big storm at sea, and I’m a mast on your ship.”

“I’m fine.”

And he was—for about thirty seconds. Then Jasper stepped in a prairie dog hole and nearly went down. The mule recovered, and Caroline remained firmly seated on his back, but Nick slid off Jasper’s rump like it was greased. The air rushed from his lungs when he landed on his backside on the rocky ground.

At that, Caroline twisted in the saddled and regarded him with exasperation. “I will not have you falling on your head and undoing my handiwork. You have two choices. You can either ride up here and hold my waist, or you can ride on the travois. Make up your mind.”

He clambered to his feet and swatted the dust off the seat of his pants in disgust. He was fed up with Caroline Hubbard, her butt-ugly mule, and the entire state of Wyoming. “Whatever is going to get me to that train the fastest.”

“Jasper will make better time carrying you than dragging you.”

Nick could swear Jasper bared his teeth in a mulish grin. “Why can’t I ride in front and you hold on to me?”

“Because you don’t know where you’re going, and I wouldn’t be able to see around you. Now stop stalling. I’d like to get to town in time to buy supplies, check my mail, and get home before dark.”

He shook his head, grabbed the back of the saddle, and vaulted onto Jasper’s broad back. He was so much taller than Caroline that when he slid his arms around her middle, they met beneath her breasts rather than at her waist. He smiled against her hair—she felt nothing like a ship’s mast. Her uncorseted flesh was firm beneath her thin blouse, and the weight of her breasts soft and warm against his forearms. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad trip after all.

All of a sudden, she kicked Jasper’s sides, and the mule set off in his version of a trot. Nick’s teeth chattered with every bounce as he struggled to keep his balance despite his firm grip on Caroline.

“You’re d...d...doing th...th...this on purpose,” he accused.

She turned her head and flashed an impish grin. “You said you were in a hurry.”

“I’d like to arrive in one piece.”

“Then you’d better watch where you put your hands.”

He slid them down to her waist, and she slowed Jasper to a more comfortable pace. “Once we get to town, I swear I will never ride a mule again as long as I live,” he said to the top of her head.

“I agree; it’s probably not the fastest way to get to South America.”

Nick heaved an internal sigh of relief an hour later when they reached the random collection of hastily constructed buildings that was Como Bluff. The brick depot was the most substantial edifice, but the town also boasted a hotel, livery stable, and at least three saloons.

Caroline pulled to a halt in front of the station and turned in his arms. “You can check on the time for the next train. I’ll be across the street at the post office. If there’s no train today, I’m sure the hotel has extra rooms for the night.”

He should release her; he no longer needed her for balance; but Nick hesitated. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep in a real bed in a hotel. He’d only known Caroline Hubbard a couple of days, but the determined little scientist had turned his world upside down.

“Well, are you getting down?”

“Uh...yeah.” He swung his leg over the mule’s haunches and slid to the ground.

“If you decide to spend the night in town, perhaps I’ll see you at the hotel. I thought I might eat luncheon in the dining room before heading home. That way, I won’t have to cook again today.”

At the mention of food, his stomach reminded him he’d missed breakfast. Caroline had also given him a convenient excuse to spend at least another hour in her company before their paths diverged forever. “That sounds like a good idea. I expect I’ll see you there.”

He climbed the steps to the railway platform and found the stationmaster in his office.

“When is the next train to Denver?” Nick asked.

The grizzled old man peered at him over a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his nose. “There’s been a breakdown twenty miles south of Casper. Next train won’t be through here ’til Thursday.”

Thursday. Nick suddenly realized he had no idea what day of the week it was. “What’s today?”

The stationmaster tilted his head and squinted. “Tuesday. What’s the matter, son? Lose track of time?”

“Something like that. I fell off my horse a few days ago and hit my head.”

“I don’t suppose you lost your horse.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

The man pushed back from his desk and stood. “Pete over at the livery might be able to help you. A bay gelding wandered into town day before yesterday. Pete’s been taking care of him in case the owner showed up. I’m sure he’d be happy to return the horse if you can pay two days’ board.”

A weight floated off Nick’s shoulders. He had no particular attachment to the animal—he’d bought him in Cheyenne just last week—but in Wyoming a horse represented independence. With a horse he could go where he wanted, when he wanted. He wasn’t tied to train schedules. He could set off for Denver today or stay in Como Bluff as long as he chose. He thanked the stationmaster and whistled as he crossed the street to the livery stable.

The horse raised his nose from the feed trough with no particular interest when Nick approached. The stable owner, however, was happy to part with the gelding in exchange for five dollars.

“Good thing you showed up when you did,” Pete said. He spat a stream of tobacco juice in the general vicinity of a battered brass spittoon. “Another few days, and I would have sold him.”

“Lucky for me.”

“Yep. You’ll find your saddle and saddlebags on the pegs over there.” Pete motioned toward the opposite wall.

“Thanks again.” Nick shouldered the saddlebags with a surprising sense of relief. They contained only the bare essentials because he’d planned to buy the rest of his supplies in Como Bluff, but he was ridiculously pleased to have his razor and clean clothes again. Now possessed of a horse and a few personal belongings, he was no longer a lost soul dependent on strangers, no matter how beautiful or generous they might be. He just needed to make one more purchase to complete the transformation. “By the way, do you know where I could buy a hat?”

“There’s some mighty fine hats at the mercantile next door.”

Nick tied the bay to the hitching post in front of the store and went inside. Ten minutes later, he emerged sporting a handsome beige broad-brimmed hat that kept the sun off the cut on his forehead and out of his eyes.

No more damned pink bonnets.

The thought brought an image of Caroline and a reminder of his plan to join her for lunch. He stepped into the dusty street with a smile on his face and headed toward the hotel. Before he reached the other side, she burst out of the post office and ran toward him with a look of consternation on her face and a sheet of paper fluttering in her hand.

“Nick, Nick, I need you!”

His smile broadened.

When she reached him, she stopped and gasped, her blue eyes huge. “I need you to be C. P. Hubbard.”