The pace of their journey was different this morning. Randee and Marsh did not ride as hard and fast as they had yesterday, but their progress was a steady one, and the miles lessened between them and their first destination. At each rest and water stop for the horses, Marsh again kept mostly to himself, and Randee followed suit. She realized that he would have to get accustomed to having another person around all the time. Until the Durango Kid adjusted to his loss of privacy, she concluded it was best to be as unnoticeable as possible.
The blonde longed for a soothing bath and clean clothes, and a soft bed with lots of cuddly pillows. Visions of steaming cornbread, delicious vegetable-andbeef soup, fresh lemonade, and blackberry cobbler filled her mind. She thought of Brody Wade, who was probably yearning for her hasty return and her hand in marriage. Guilt washed over Randee as she gazed at Marsh Logan, and her body flamed instantly with a feverish passion, which Brody had never ignited.
She wondered why this mysterious loner had such a powerful and crazy effect on her, while a dependable, respectable, kindhearted man like Brody felt more like an adopted brother. The two men were so different from each other, and both were so unlike that vile beast, Payton Slade. Randee angrily scolded herself for allowing her stepfather to plague her on this lovely afternoon in late May. She dismissed all three men from mind, and called forth the Epson Gang to study.
When they halted for a longer stop that afternoon, Marsh was in a curious mood. “We’ll make camp tonight at a place I know near Jacksboro, the site of the gang’s first raid. We’ll make our plans and do our maps there.” Running his fingers through his black hair, he mussed the windblown locks more than he tamed them. He appeared edgy as he chatted. “During the next few days, I’ll teach you some tricks about stealthy tracking and fast movements. I want you as highly trained as possible before we confront those murdering bastards. While we’re camped near Jacksboro, you can practice with those new weapons and get that mare used to you” The alert Marsh had noticed her working frequently with the animal since that morning, and he didn’t know why he’d added that unnecessary suggestion. It was obvious she knew a lot about horses and earning their loyalty and assistance.
Randee was aware of Marsh’s unusual talkativeness and slight tension. She presumed he had had trouble in this area in the past and was placing himself on extra guard, but was trying to conceal it. “Thanks, those are excellent ideas,” she remarked. She reasoned that asking him questions right now would only make him retreat further into silence, so she didn’t press. She had to be patient until he was ready to open up to her, which he might do after getting to know her better.
“How did your little picnic with the sheriff go?” he inquired.
Randee looked his way, but his gaze was in the other direction. She grinned and queried, “Fine, why do you ask?”
“Just wondering if you kept your head and didn’t drop any clues about us,” he replied, then drank deeply from his canteen. “Did he act or talk strange? Did he mention me?”
“Naturally he mentioned the notorious Durango Kid; I must say, most unfavorably. But he didn’t behave strangely or mistrustfully, even when I made up kin in Ohio and told him all about them. You can relax, Mr. Logan; I remained tight-lipped, like someone else I know.”
Marsh half turned and glanced at her. Yep, he concluded, she was smart and quick, and she was witty. He chuckled, causing his eyes to sparkle and a pleasant expression to slip over his face. “Wade told me to steer clear of you, that you belong to him. Is that true?”
“My relationship with Brody doesn’t concern you,” she responded.
“I suppose not, unless he hears of our little adventure and comes after me with a blood glint in his eye. I don’t like showdowns with the law. A furious sweetheart could tangle our plans something fierce. Haven’t you learned that jealous men do crazy things?”
She quipped, “Then, make certain we’re careful on all accounts. Speaking of arousing suspicion, you were too nice in the bank.”
This time, Marsh laughed heartily. “So were you,” he retorted playfully. “It sounded smart when I first gave you that order, but I decided it would look strange being hostile to a beautiful lady for no reason.”
Randee let his compliment pass as if unnoticed. She watched Marsh stretch and flex his muscular body, and that warm tingle came over her again. Heavens, she fretted, he was such an overwhelming attraction! She focused her attention on Rojo, patting her nose, stroking her neck, feeding her bunches of grass, and speaking to her.
“Another question, Randee,” Marsh began, his tone softened like a caress. “You said you left home in February and made it to Wadesville alone. Why did you leave Kansas and why are you afraid to return?”
Before she could master her reflexes, Randee’s hand ceased its loving labor. She inhaled sharply and she stiffened. Hastily she commanded herself to relax and to come up with an acceptable answer. Her warring mind refused to aid her, so she snapped, “That’s my business! It’s none of your affair.”
Marsh refuted, “It is my affair if you left trouble back there and it follows you here and involves me.”
Randee turned slowly and met his probing gaze. She smiled provocatively and murmured, “Do I look like the kind of person who gets into trouble?”
Marsh’s eyes leisurely traveled over her from head to foot. “Yep.”
Randee laughed at his amused expression. “Even if I did leave a nasty situation behind, I’m certain my partner can handle any overflow of trouble if it comes our way. But don’t worry, nobody’s coming to Texas to look for me and to cause you problems. My father’s dead.”
“Where’s your mother?” he asked instantly.
Randee sent him a fake smile. “She’s happily married again, and newlyweds don’t need a grown woman around their house. Their efforts to gain privacy got to be annoying. Besides, I wanted to live with my kin and enjoy new surroundings, so I came to Texas.”
Marsh knew she was lying, but he didn’t call her on it. There was no denying that something terrible had happened in Kansas to drive her away from home in the midst of winter. Otherwise, a female of her age would have been given an escort by her parents or kin, or she would have taken the stage. There was a reason why she left quickly and alone. What it was, or who it was, he needed to discover.
Randee knew he hadn’t believed her, but she didn’t retract her lies or nervously add more to her tale. “What about you, Mr. Logan? Why did you leave home and become a famous gunslinger?”
“For thrills and adventures, Miss Hollis, just like you.”
“You men are lucky. You can seek adventure without problems, but females can’t. A woman on her own isn’t viewed in a good light, and people try to take advantage of her. Yet, you men can go anywhere and do anything you please, and everyone thinks it’s fine and even envies your freedom and excitement. When you defend yourself, it’s a glorious notch on your reputation. But if a woman shoots a man, it’s murder or big trouble. That’s stupid and unfair.”
“You sorry you’re a woman? You trying to become a real man? Is that what this chase is all about?”
“It isn’t a joke, Marsh. Try being a woman for a month and you’ll see what I mean! We work as hard, if not harder, than men. We labor side by side on farms and ranches, plus take care of homes and children during and after those chores, while the men rest. We doctor the sick, we teach the young, and we hold things together when men go off to war or get killed. But, no, I don’t wish I were a man. I just want to be treated fairly and equally when and where I deserve it.”
“Is your father to blame for this bad opinion of men?”
Randee’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t you dare insult my father! He was the best man to ever live. After chores, he always helped around the house because he knew Mother and I were just as tired as he was. He did lots of things men consider woman’s work, but he was a strong and brave man and people’s jokes didn’t bother him. I was referring to the way it is in most homes and situations, where men give themselves, or other men, all the credit for success, as if their wives had nothing to do with it. My father wasn’t like that. He did’special things to make us happy.”
Randee looked out across the greening landscape and envisioned Randall Hollis working out there. “My father never treated me like a son, or wished I were one. He treated me as an equal with the other hands because I earned that right. Just like I’ll prove to you I can handle my share of everything that comes our way. I don’t care why you agreed to take this job, but my only reason for this mission is to see justice done. I want those bastards dead for what they did at the Carson Ranch. And if it costs me my life, so be it, because it’s the only thing in my life right now.. Let’s get riding, or we won’t make Jacksboro by dark.”
As she wet her throat after her mild tirade, Randee chided herself for jabbering like a fool. She had to let this bitterness go, this destructive resentment over her father’s early death and her mother’s marriage to a beast like Payton Slade: one of those men she had been describing! Heavens, she loved her father and missed him terribly. How totally different Payton Slade was from Randall Hollis, and she could not understand what her mother saw in that wicked man. Between the war and her mother’s remarriage, Randee’s life had been ruined. Then, to come here and to find a new one, only to have it stolen from her …
Marsh intruded on her tormenting thoughts, “How’s the arm?”
“What?” she replied, unsettled and confused.
Marsh gently grasped her arm and pushed the sleeve up to look at the purplish-yellow area. “Luther Crebbs got you good that day. Did you have it checked to make sure the bone isn’t cracked?”
Randee glanced at the healing injury, then up at Marsh. His touch was as gentle as she had imagined it would be. Seemingly genuine concern showed in his eyes, and unnerved her further. “I’ve taken care of enough breaks to know it’s fine, just badly bruised muscle. My arm’s still a little sore, but it won’t get in the way of our work.”
Marsh knew she was fatigued and probably aching from her rough journey, but not once had she slowed him down or asked for special treatment. He also knew that something awful was haunting her, and he understood that feeling only too well. A curious empathy came over him and he wanted to comfort her. “You don’t have to behave as strong as a man, Randee. When you need to stop, don’t be too proud or embarrassed to say so. I’m used to constant travel; you aren’t.”.
Marsh was standing too close for comfort, and his touch was too disturbing to ignore. Her nose detected a mixture of ruggedly manly smells, which were stimulating. She felt the heat from his virile body, and the heat he was creating within hers. He exuded a tantalizing tenderness that flustered her. She had carried burdens for months and weeks, and she longed to throw herself into his arms to accept the solace he was mutely offering. She dared not behave so weakly and rashly. She had to remain strong and in control, or he would doubt her strength and capabilities. Moreover, his embrace was hazardous to her.
Today he was wearing a tan shirt and snug jeans that vividly displayed his well-built frame. She felt her heart beating strangely, and she inhaled deeply to slow its crazy pace. “I’m doing fine, Marsh. I’m tired and sore, but not enough to make camp this early. I worked and rode every day at the ranch, so I’m in good condition. I’ll tell you if I need an extra break. But thanks for being so kind and understanding.”
Nimbly mounting her horse, she announced, “I’m ready, partner.”
Marsh took off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and replaced it. He tossed two woven sacks of supplies across his saddle, which he had hidden at this rest stop before retrieving Randee. He mounted and said, “Come along, Miss Hollis. We have a ways to go before nightfall.”
They traveled until dusk without another stop or word. As the sun was grazing the tree tops near a wide creek, Marsh revealed, “We’re almost there. We’ll be camping in ten minutes.”
“Good. I’m starving and exhausted,” she freely admitted.
In a strained voice, Marsh concurred, “Me too.”
Randee wondered about his gradual change in tone and aura as they neared this lovely and peaceful spot. She moved her right leg over the horse and dismounted. Bending forward at the waist, she” bounced several times to loosen her taut back muscles. Afterwards, she twisted and flexed her limbs to complete unwinding. Her skin was damp and dusty, and her stomach was near to hunger pangs.
As if reading her mind, Marsh informed her, “About a hundred yards downstream, there’s a nice water hole for bathing. You look like you need it badly.” He grinned and challenged, “That is, if you trust me enough to take advantage of a good thing. While you’re refreshing yourself, I’ll take cook duty tonight.”
“Is this spot safe?” she asked as she fetched her leather pouches. “I mean, is it a secluded one? Any neighbors or squatters nearby?”
“Nobody’s supposed to be around for miles, Randee, but I’ll keep an extra eye and ear open. I haven’t been here in a long time, but it still looked deserted as we rode in.” While unsaddling his stallion, Marsh disclosed, “This ranch belonged to people I knew, people killed in that first raid last April. The house and barns were over that way,” he told her, pointing to a shady grove not too far from the stream. “It was really something to see. Thirteen months ago, the Epson Gang killed everybody and burned everything to the ground.” “
Randee observed the man intently. Marsh’s bitterness and fury were evident in his voice and stance. “I’m sure your friends would appreciate what you’re doing for them, Marsh. We’ll catch that murderous band and punish them, then all of their dead can rest easier.” She looked around and smiled sadly. “It’s such a beautiful place, so tranquil and fertile. Who owns it now? Are we trespassing?”
“There’s only one heir and he wouldn’t sell for any reason, if the local authorities knew where to locate him. I can’t blame him; a homestead isn’t something you get rid of just because there’s trouble.”
Randee eyed the peaceful grove where a home had once stood and a family had lived, unaware of their grim fates. She thought of her father’s ranch, her lost home, and a great sadness filled her. “You’re right, Marsh, a home isn’t something to lose carelessly, or something to have taken from you by force and deceit.”
Marsh was intrigued and touched by her melancholy mood. She sighed deeply and shook it off with sheer will power, and he did the same. “You’re safe here from all harm, Randee, I promise. And you have my word I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
Randee accepted his word and headed off to find the water hole. The light was vanishing quickly and she wanted to see it before dark to make certain no slithery creatures were swimming there. She located it in an area that was screened by bushes and trees. Stripping and entering the water, she barely managed to suppress a shriek of discomfort as the chilly water engulfed her body. She scrubbed quickly with the soap she had brought along and dried off with her worn shirt. Donning a nightgown, she hung her sweaty garments on bushes to dry before packing them. She slipped into the shirt she would wear tomorrow and used it for a robe. Gathering her things, she headed back to camp.
As she neared the fire where Marsh was cooking supper, he glanced up at her before returning his gaze to the task at hand. Suddenly, his head jerked upward and he took another look. Noting her attire, surprise registered on his face and he nearly burned himself.
Randee related, “I can’t sleep in confining clothes that I’ve worn all day, and I’m too tired to be kept awake. Besides, if it’s safe for you to visit my hotel room in the middle of the night and safe for me to strip and bathe nearby, then surely it’s safe for me to sleep in a nightgown which conceals nearly every inch of me from view. You said there were no neighbors or dangers, so why be uncomfortably modest?”
“You’re right, Miss Hollis. I was just taken unprepared for such courage. Sit down and rest a minute. Supper will be ready soon.” Marsh watched her place a folded blanket on the ground and take a seat on it, the fiery blaze and cooking meal safely positioned between them. Randee’s tawny hair tumbled over her shoulders and shone like polished silk in the firelight, whose loving glow also caressed her golden complexion. As she wearily stared into the colorful flames, their dreamy dance was reflected in her green eyes. Truly, the cotton gown was visually impenetrable, and hardly sexy with that shirt buttoned over it. He knew she was being honest; comfort was her only motive. He was glad she felt so secure around him because it didn’t matter what she had on; anything she wore whet his appetite for her.
When they finished eating, he washed the metal dishes in the stream and set them aside for use in the morning. He told Randee, “You sleep here beside the fire. I’ll sleep near the water hole, after I bathe. If you get scared or need anything, call out.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I camped out plenty of times with my father, so I’m not afraid of the dark or night creatures. See you in the morning.” Randee unrolled her sleeping bag and climbed inside. She placed her cherished Colt near her head and closed her eyes. She waited to see if the man would keep his word, and wondered if she wanted him to do so ….
Marsh was positive the weapon wasn’t there as a warning to him. He noticed which gun she chose to spend the night with and guessed why: Her father must have given it to her and it made her feel safe. He picked up his belongings and headed for the water hole, depositing them nearby. Then, he returned to the fire to retrieve a pan of hot water, told her good night, and left. At his campsite, he used the steamy water and his sharp knife to shave. It was an easy chore to do in the dark and without a mirror, as he had done it this way many times before. He removed his clothes and took a long bath. He needed the cold water to douse the fire in his body, one which Miss Randee Hollis kept igniting at every turn. Noticing her clothes draped on the bushes, he followed her lead and hung his own garments out to dry.
Only a sliver of moon was in the sky tonight, making the area around him dark, much too dark for Randee to see his naked body at this distance. He kicked the sleeping bag and sent it to unrolling rapidly. Climbing inside, he knew that for many reasons he was in for a night of little sleep: He was on the alert for peril, an overwhelmingly tempting woman was sleeping nearby, and his parents had been brutally murdered here. So many old memories and new desires troubled him; so many ghosts haunted him; so much guilt and hunger plagued him. He looked toward the dying glow of the campfire, where Randee was asleep. Well, Ma, I finally brought a girl home with me, but you aren’t here to meet her. Soon, you and Pa will rest peacefully because I’m going to hunt down and kill every one of those bastards.
He lifted his ebony head once more and glanced in Randee’s direction. There was no movement in her bedroll, so he assumed the exhausted female was slumbering peacefully. His hands longed to caress her while she was curled enticingly into his embrace. Just knowing she was nearby inflamed his passions. He remembered every inch of her face. Mercy, how he wanted to join her over there!
She was so unlike the women he had known and taken. As with his mother, she had a strength about her, a gentleness, a special quality. She could inspire a man to do anything for her, then help him do it. With her skills and traits, she was a treasure any man would covet. Mercy, he wanted her, but he couldn’t allow her to distract him, not until this vital mission was over. No, not even then, he warned himself. She was a lady, and he was a drifter. She was the marrying kind, and he was a loner. She had someone waiting for her, someone who loved her and would do anything for her, someone who could give her a good life. Even if he didn’t like Brody Wade and couldn’t stand the thought of the sheriff having her, “ Brody had a lot to offer Randee. It would be wrong of Marsh to take that from her, wrong because she had suffered great pain and loss, and she deserved happiness and stability.
Damn you, woman! Why did you have to come into my miserable life and tempt me so fiercely? I’m responsible for my parents’deaths. If I had been here like any good son, they would be alive. I can’t rest until every member of that gang is dead. Afterwards, I’d be on my way to accept another challenging mission. If I was a rancher instead of a hired gun, I could think about you seriously, but I’m not a homebody like your Sheriff Wade and may never become one. Besides, a traitor can’t settle on land earned with blood. What could I possibly have to offer a lady like you, Randee Hollis? Nothing …
Randee lay very still and quiet, not wanting Marsh to know she was still awake. Just knowing he was bathing and sleeping not far away aroused her to intense desire. She was within a hundred yards of the first man who made her tremble uncontrollably, who made her want to forget everything she knew and was, just to entice and enjoy him!
She was ensnared by Marsh Logan and worried about him. She wondered if as the Durango Kid he ever got tired of his hazardous lifestyle. Surely being on the move and on the alert all the time would eventually cause a once-exciting existence to lose its magic and pull. Did he ever think about settling down? Did he care for ranching or farming? Did he want a home, wife, and children one day? A gunslinger couldn’t ply his lethal trade forever. The time came when his eyes and instincts dulled, when his speed and skills lessened—and when someone else took his life, or gave up such a lifestyle. But how did a man simply walk away from a famous reputation? Would other upcoming gunmen allow a colorful and challenging legend to retire peacefully? Would some cocky lawman force him to step over the lawful boundary, just to boast that he had slain the Durango Kid? Death, she fretted, was the only end to such a perilous life. What a terrible waste of such a good man!
Randee listened to the calming songs of frogs, crickets, and night birds. She heard branches with supple leaves tickling each other, and water racing over rocks in the stream. The campfire was down to barely glowing embers, and the partial moon cast very little light. Everything smelled so fresh and clean here. Her soul was enlivened, thanks to Marsh Logan. Could she persuade him to begin a new life, a much different one? Could they become a perfect match and find happiness together? How wonderful it would be to sleep nestled together on the same bedroll, to build a home in this very location, to wake up each morning and do chores together, to create a child and watch it grow, to share laughter and joy and suffering, to be partners in all things ….
Marsh Logan was a man strong enough to earn her full respect, her assistance, her total loyalty. She was drawn to him, and she wanted him. She had recognized that truth the moment she had looked up into his attractive face, into those captivating blue eyes. Instantly she had known that here was a unique man, a man she must have.
During the coming weeks, while they were on the trail, she must show him what his life was missing, what he could have if he yielded to her pull. When this dangerous task was over, the Durango Kid must be laid to rest and Marsh Logan must be reborn.
Randee stretched and yawned, coming alert gradually. The sounds of early morning touched her ears, especially the joyful singing of birds. She felt rested and filled with anticipation for the coming day. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around for Marsh. He was not at his campsite near the water hole, and she heard nothing that might give away his location. She sat up and scanned the area for him, finally spying him on a grassy knoll in the distance. He was kneeling beside two green mounds with wooden crosses: a gravesite.
She slipped behind some bushes and dressed. After finding her brush, she untangled her hair and secured it at her nape with one of Brody’s ribbons. The water in the stream was refreshing when she washed her face and hands. She rolled and bound her sleeping bag, and put away her possessions. Since Marsh had not noticed her stirrings and returned, she headed for the gravesite that had him so preoccupied.
He was absorbed in such deep thought that he did not hear her nearly soundless approach, something unusual for the keenly alert man. Randee read the two markers, and her eyes widened in surprise: “Judith Logan, 1817-1870” and “Marshall Logan, 1814-1870.”
Marsh was on his knees, with his buttocks resting against his boot soles. His proud shoulders were slightly slumped and his hands were capping his knees tightly. As she edged to his right side to allow the sun to cast her shadow over his lap, she noticed that his jaw was clenched and his expression was cold. It was so glacial that a chill passed over her body. She jumped and squealed as Marsh caught sight of her from the corner of his eye and whirled toward her. His narrowed gaze caused her to step backward and to say, “I’m sorry if I intruded on your mourning. You didn’t tell me they were your kin.”
Marsh stood quickly and masked his feelings, “They weren’t kin; they were my parents. I need some coffee,” he growled, then headed back for camp.
Randee stared at his back as he retreated from the sad spot. His words from yesterday filled her mind. That meant he was the heir of this lovely and tragic spread! If he was an only son, why had he left home? Why had he become a hired gunslinger? Now she realized there was more to his taking her offer than she had known ….
As he prepared a fire and made coffee, he answered her unasked questions without looking up. “Before we go on to other matters this morning, we’ll clear up this one. What I said in the sheriff’s office about why I sought your job wasn’t true. It wasn’t to earn money from a rich adventurer or to face a new challenge; it was to seek support on the Epson search. I waste time and lose ground when I have to halt to earn expense money. It. seems we have a mutual bond and need; that’s why we’re sitting here. The large reward isn’t that important, but I’ll take it if I earn it. I also wanted to make sure no reckless glory-seeker fouled up my search, so I hoped to get the money and discourage Randee Hollis from going along. You made that impossible.”
At last, he met her gaze. “Nothing is more important to me than my family. Even if they’re dead, I owe them, like you owe your kin. Those bastards attacked my home and killed my parents in their first strike last April. I’ve been trailing them ever since, but they’re real clever. I want them dead, Randee, but each one by my own hand.-You’ve got clues and I’ve got skills, so that makes us a good match. Since I haven’t been successful getting to them, maybe I do need your brains and help. I know I can use your support.”
“Why did you keep this a secret until today?” she inquired.
“I didn’t want anyone else knowing how serious I was about catching this gang. If anyone came around Wadesville after my departure looking for information, I didn’t want him to consider me a threat and start watching for me over his shoulder. If I had told you the truth, you could have let something drop accidentally to your sweetheart, to keep him from worrying about you. I needed for Sheriff Wade to believe I only came looking for money and excitement; otherwise, he would have wondered how I could reject your reward and help. When I came to the hotel to meet with you, it was to talk you out of coming along. But after I grasped your talents and motive, plus the danger you were in, I figured it was best to bring you along. You’re especially important to me if you can pick out those men from clues you observed.”
Randee was disappointed to learn that Marsh had brought her with him only to use her to obtain personal revenge. Yes, she admitted, she was using him too, but she was paying heavily for that privilege, and she hadn’t lied about why she was hiring him! No doubt this astute male realized she knew more than she had revealed, to him, and was hoping to charm the information from her. She had to keep silent because, when he no longer needed her, he might desert her somewhere and pursue his own vengeful path.
He had endured great pain and would take on any and all obstacles to seek victory. It was good that his commitment matched hers, but could she trust him completely? Only time could provide that answer. Perhaps it was best to let the matter slide for a while as she proved herself to him, and he proved himself to her. She nodded and said, “I understand your reasoning. Actually, I like this motive better than money and adventure; it means you’re deadly serious about our task.”
Noticing his appearance, she decided to change the subject. “Can I ask you another question?” When he didn’t respond either way, she queried, “Why do you always shave at night?” Every time she saw him in the light—that first day in Wadesville, that morning at Red River Station, and now— he had only a night’s growth of whiskers. Why would a man have a shadowy face during the daytime and a smooth one at night?
Marsh grinned at her ploy. She was alert and compassionate. “Lots of reasons, my eagle-eyed partner, all having to do with being prepared for anything. If I have to ride out of town or camp real fast, which happens often, I don’t have time to shave in the morning. After a hard and dusty day on the trail, it’s more relaxing to do it at night, and it keeps prickly whiskers from catching on my bedroll and pinching. It also helps me hone those night skills I told you about. I practice doing it with little or no sound, and without cutting myself. It really sharpens the senses and skills. Makes the old fingers learn to move with an extra light touch, which comes in handy,” he teased huskily.
“When are you going to share those skills with me? You said you would teach me everything you know about survival.”
Marsh looked her over boldly and imagined what he would really like to teach her and share with her, and the way she was returning his gaze said she was receptive. “We’ll get your training under way after breakfast and our strategy meeting. This mission has to be planned perfectly or we’re both dead.”
“I believe it’s my turn to cook,” she reminded him as he pulled out supplies and began making biscuits.
“I’m used to cooking for myself, so it came natural to start the meal. Let’s make this a joint venture and we’ll be eating sooner. While I finish here, why don’t you pour us some coffee and get the meat to frying? I have jars of honey and jam in the supply sack; take your pick.”
“Which do you prefer?” she asked as she followed his suggestions.
“Doesn’t matter to me. I like them both. Frankly, I only chose things that I like. Maybe I should have checked on your preferences.”
She looked through the two sacks and smiled. “From what I can see, Mr. Logan, you did an excellent job with your selections. I think honey’s best this morning, because it’s the stickiest and we’re near lots of water. It does have a sneaky way of getting all over you.”
Marsh looked at her and chuckled. He asked, “Do you always reason. everything out?”
Randee’s hand ceased slicing the meat and she shrugged. “I suppose so,” she admitted. She laid the strips neatly in the skillet and placed it over the flame. While she waited for it to begin sizzling, she prepared their coffee. Handing one cup to Marsh, she remarked, “See if that’s how you like it.”
He sipped it and met her gaze. “Looks as if you know me already. Since you notice everything and recall it, I’ll have to be careful with what I say and do. If I make a mistake, you’ll never forget it. But of course, talents like those are vital in our work.”
After they ate, Marsh began the clean-up chores. Randee laughed and said, “You’re marvelous to have around, Mr. Logan. You remind me of my father, kind and brave enough to do what’s needed. I like not being expected to do the chores because I’m a woman. You’ve won my deepest affection and respect.”
“Knowing how you feel about your father, Miss Hollis, I take that as the highest compliment you could pay me. On this journey, we’re partners, equals. We share everything and anything. Right?”
“I couldn’t ask for a more perfect arrangement,” she replied.
“Nor could I,” Marsh retorted, winking at her.
Marsh eyed her garments. She was dressed in a vest and skirt of material and color that matched the jeans he was wearing—a sturdy, durable, and comfortable outfit for the trail. The skirt was full and it flowed over the tops of her brown boots, a style which made mounting and riding easy and modest. She wore a red shirt beneath the vest, its shade flattering to her golden skin. Her hair, bound today with a red ribbon, reminded him of a field of ripened wheat, and it seemed to call out to him to wander through it with his fingers.
“Do you approve of my taste, Mr. Logan?” she asked merrily.
“I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything about you that isn’t flawless. Makes a man nervous to be around such perfection.”
Randee shook her head and laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve made your first mistake, Mr. Logan. I can assure you, I have many flaws.”
“Such as?” he prompted, his blue gaze mischievous.
“I think I’ll leave it up to you to discover them. That way, if you miss a few, then you’ll think I’m not so terrible after all.”
“A wise woman, or a cunningly deceitful one— I wonder which,” he murmured. A wicked grin eased over his face and he challenged, “Shall we see who outguesses the other first? A sporting game to enliven our spirits and while away the hours when we’re not at work.”
Randee’s defensive reply was, “Speaking of work, shouldn’t we get to it? As we.play, more people could be dying.”
The man in the snug blue shirt and dark jeans walked forward. He looked down into her expressive eyes and jested, “Afraid you’ll lose if you accept my challenge, or are you refusing because of Brody Wade?”
Randee stared him in the eye and countered, “I’m refusing because neither of us can afford such a distraction while our lives are in danger. Challenge me again after our victory, and I’ll accept.”
Marsh teased the backs of his fingers over her flushed cheek, then across her lips. He felt her tremble and read enormous desire for him within her gaze and mood. Yet, she was pulling back from him. Perhaps because it was considered a woman’s duty to protect her chastity and to keep a tempting male at arm’s length—until he was ready or willing to put a wedding band before carnal pleasures. Even so, he murmured seductively, “Maybe I’ll do just that, Miss Hollis.”
“And maybe you won’t,” but I hope you will, locking her gaze to his and astonishing him with her unexpected reply following her retreat.