The Proposition

“I don’t know. Earlier today along with the hawk you and Merriweather were watching, there were vultures flying in the sky. They were circling something a mile or two farther down the trail. They eat scrap food and anything a traveler might leave behind.”

“What does that mean?”

He grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her arm so hard against his chest he stole her breath. “Is there any reason you can think of why someone might be following us?”

She hesitated, and that worried him.

“No,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

She yanked from his powerful grip, spun around and dodged him. “Wh-what on earth would they want from me?”

He ran a hand across his dry mouth and cursed aloud. If she didn’t know anything about them, then there was only one logical explanation, one that had loomed in his fears since he’d begun planning this critical journey.

“Then someone’s after my horses.”

Chapter Five

With a growing sense of frustration, standing behind a cover of bushes while preparing for bed, Jessica stretched her right arm behind her back as far as it would go and grabbed for the last hook and eye on her corset. She shuffled in the dirt. Perspiration broke out on her forehead. With a moan and a final tug, she managed to unhook it. The red corset flung off her body and ricocheted between a poplar tree and white spruce. A cool breeze whispered over her naked breasts.

“You damn miserable piece of cotton, I should—”

“Is everything all right?” Travis called in the darkness.

Shocked by the proximity of his voice, she scooped her corset and clutched it to her body. “Stay out there!”

“I’m not coming after you. I’m merely wondering what the fuss is about.”

“I’m fine. A little difficulty with my clothing. Go on now. Run along.”

There was a pause. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in mocking tones. She relaxed as his footsteps grew distant. He called to Mr. Merriweather about stacking fire logs.

She was still touchy from the thought someone might be following them. Every noise spooked her.

Looking down at her corset, as much as she could see of it in the dark, she rubbed her fingers along the intricate column of hooks. At home, she and her sister always helped each other secure their stays, but Jessica was alone on this trip. The corset clasped at the back, which was half the problem.

Tomorrow, she’d have to devise something different to wear beneath her clothes. Her chemise, perhaps, and an undershirt on top of that to support her as she rode.

Beyond the bushes, Mr. Merriweather called to Travis above the spitting fire. “For a man who thinks someone’s following us, you don’t seem to be very worried.”

She heard a rustling of branches, then Travis’s low voice. “There’s no sense getting your long johns twisted in a knot. Overreacting doesn’t solve anything.”

Jessica slid her night shift over her head and listened to their conversation.

“You’re not worried at all?” continued the butler.

“I’m concerned, but they won’t come near us for at least three more days.”

“How can you be so bloody well sure?”

“Because that’s what I’d do if I were them. I wouldn’t make a move now because we’re too close to the police fort. Dozens of policemen who don’t take kindly to horse theft. It’ll take us three days to cross the border of Alberta into British Columbia. It’s deserted in the interior. That’s when I’d make my move.”

The butler gasped. “Why don’t you arrest them tonight?”

“I can’t arrest anyone unless a crime’s been committed.” He paused. “Tomorrow evening we’ll be passing through the village of Strongness. I know some men there who’ve worked for me before. Good men. I’ll get their help with this.”

“Good show! But for tonight, shouldn’t we be sleeping in a ring, facing outward, head to toe in our bedrolls with our guns drawn?”

Travis laughed. “Where’d you read that? An adventure novel?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, Cherokee Joe—”

“Cherokee Joe?”

“He’s a brilliant Indian I read about in a jolly good Western series, written by an Englishman from Hong Kong. My word, Cherokee Joe could smell a trap a mile away. And he could wring a coyote’s neck with his bare fists.”

Jessica recalled the story and smiled to herself as she folded her daytime clothes to stuff them in her pack.

“First of all,” said Travis, “there aren’t any Indians in the West named Joe. And Cherokee Indians have never lived in this territory.”

“But this man was special. His wife was a European princess who happened to meet him on one of the king’s trips—”

“That’s crazy.” Travis whistled. “Why would he marry a princess? What in the world might they have in common?”

“Their mutual love for an injured buffalo, of course—”

“I’ve met several Indians. None of them would want to marry a European princess. They’re smart.”

“But I haven’t gotten to the part about the Mountie.”

“Let me guess. It’s a lovers’ tug-of-war between Cherokee Joe and the Mountie for the princess.”

“No, no,” said Jessica, stepping out backward from behind the bushes, dragging her saddlebag to the large pine tree. She propped it beside the others. “The princess shoots the Mountie because he’s trying to wrongfully imprison Cherokee Joe.”

She tried to join in the light conversation, hoping to divert attention from what she was wearing, but failed miserably when she turned around and saw Travis.

Crouched by the fire, he was unrolling blankets. Mr. Merriweather was nowhere in sight. She peered around for him then spotted the movements of his arms behind a far tree as he wiggled out of his clothes.

Travis had removed his hat, vest and shirt. His powerful set of shoulders gleamed bronze in a white sleeveless undershirt. It struck her that she’d be sleeping within yards of him tonight.

He hesitated at the sight of her, looked her up and down, clenched his jaw then turned back to his bedroll.

They were both embarrassed. Although she’d tried to cover her white nightdress with her shawl, the shawl only reached to her waist. The bottom half of her gown, and her high woolen stockings, were visible. It was definitely improper to be seen in her nightclothes by a stranger. The last time she’d been with a man…The consequences of her tryst with Victor burned in her mind.

Desperately wishing she could sink into the darkness of the night, she tugged the shawl tighter. She’d removed her braids and the wind nipped at her disheveled hair. What else could she do but pretend everything was normal?

Travis finished with one bedroll. He untied the leather ties for another, stood up and shook it out.