Jeb Hunter's Bride. Ana Seymour
allure that could attract masculine attention. She wasn’t at all sure that she liked the idea.
“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about that this trip. No one even knows that I’m a girl.”
“Except me.”
The fire was beginning to die, and Kerry had trouble seeing Scott’s face in the dim light, but his voice held a resonance that was as palpable as his earlier caress on her hair. “Yes, of course. Except you.” She cleared her throat and rubbed her arms briskly. “It’s starting to get chilly out, don’t you think?”
Scott’s smile was understanding. “I’m anything but chilly, lass, but it is getting late. Do you want me to help you with anything more tonight?”
Kerry pushed herself to her feet without putting weight on her bad ankle. “No, I’m just going to curl up and go to sleep.” She pointed over at the wagon where Patrick had earlier thrown their bedrolls.
“I’d feel better if you and your brother slept inside the wagon.”
“There’s no room.”
“One of these nights it’s going to rain, and then you’ll have to find the room somehow.”
Kerry sighed. “Well, it’s not going to rain tonight.” She swept an arm up at the cloudless sky. “So I guess we’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Scott hesitated, then said. “There’s plenty of space in my wagon, lass.” When her finely arched eyebrows lifted in surprise, he added with a grin, “I just mean…if it should start to rain and you need to take shelter fast.”
Kerry smiled in return. “Thank you for the offer, Scott, but Patrick and I will work out something.
You’ve already gone to too much trouble for us. For me.”
Scott’s voice grew soft again. “Heck, Kerry. That’s
what neighbors are for.” He laid his palm against her
cheek for an instant in a gesture that was anything
but neighborly, then nodded and turned to walk to his
own wagon.
“Captain Hunter?”
Jeb whirled around, startled by the voice. His years on the trail had sharpened his senses and usually made him alert to everything going on around him, but he hadn’t heard the boy approach. “Oh hello, Patrick. How’s your brother’s foot getting along?”
He expected he’d get the same story he’d been told by Kiernan himself last night at the Gallivan campfire, but it seemed the natural question to ask.
“He’s getting around all right now. In fact, my…brother said I could come ride with you for part of the way today if the offer’s still open.”
Jeb felt a spurt of pleasure. Patrick was an earnest young lad, a little too serious for his age. He’d worked hard along the trail without a single complaint. Jeb wondered fleetingly if he and Melanie would have had such a son. The twist in his insides was so familiar by now that it passed almost without notice. Almost.
“I’d be happy to have you ride with me, Patrick. You’ll have to sit at the back of my saddle, you know.”
“I know.”
The boy’s black hair and blue eyes were nearly identical to his brother’s, but whereas on Kiernan they looked almost pretty, Patrick showed the promise of turning into a handsome, virile young man. The contrast between the two brothers was marked.
“If you want I can ride with your brother for a while and you can sit on my horse by yourself. We’d keep it alongside your wagon,” he added, to reassure the boy that he wouldn’t be completely on his own.
Patrick eyed the gray roan stallion with longing, but he said, “No, I’d rather sit behind you.”
Jeb shrugged. “All right. It’s probably better. That way I can keep track of things up and down the train. You’re sure your brother won’t need any help?”
“I’m sure. Anyway, the Burnett twins are going to ride with her today.”
Jeb frowned in confusion. “Ride with who?”
Patrick’s face paled. “Ride with him, I mean. With my brother.”
“Oh.” Jeb nodded. “Well, good. If he needs anything, they can fetch Mrs. Burnett.”
“Yup,” Patrick said, his skin returning to its normal color.
There was something a little odd about the Gallivan brothers, Jeb decided, as he mounted his horse, then reached down a long arm to pull Patrick up behind him. And yet he was drawn to them nevertheless. Perhaps it was because he identified with their recent bereavement. It was still so soon after their father’s death. They needed time to recover. It was the natural way with grief. With most grief.
He felt the boy’s arms clasp around his waist and put his big hand over Patrick’s smaller one for a moment of reassurance. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” The childish, eager voice made Jeb smile in spite of his dark thoughts as he signalled his horse to move. Patrick was young. It wouldn’t take long for time to work its healing power on the boy’s grief. Unlike Jeb’s own. He had refused to let his loss grow any less vivid with the passing years. He didn’t intend to ever allow time to numb the wound. He didn’t deserve to heal.
Kerry was thoroughly enjoying herself for the first time in what seemed like weeks. Once Polly and Molly had become completely comfortable in her company, their conversation had become delightfully unreserved. It appeared that the shyer twin, Molly, had developed a crush on Patrick, and her irrepressible older sister had already learned to use the fact as a weapon.
“Molly has a boyfriend,” she told Kerry, her little mouth making a round expression of excitement.
“I don’t either,” Molly argued with a scowl.
“Do, too.”
“Do not!”
“Do, too!”
Kerry sat up on the high wagon seat with a sister on each side. She laid the reins in her lap for a minute and put her arms around each. “Here, now. Let’s not have a fight. It’s not polite to tease about boys, Polly,” she chided gently.
Polly was undaunted. “It’s your brother,” she told Kerry in dramatic tones, sending a glance of defiance at her sister, who gave a wail.
Kerry hid a smile. “That’s all right, Molly. There’s nothing wrong with feeling a fondness for a boy. Most girls do at some point or another.”
Molly looked up into Kerry’s face, blinking hard. “You won’t tell him?” she asked in a painful whisper.
Kerry shook her head. “Not a word. I promise. And don’t you go telling either, Polly,” she cautioned. The wagon lurched over a rut in the trail and she picked up the reins again. “Now, were you girls going to teach me that ballad your mother was singing at the campfire last night?”
All at once the quarrel and Patrick were forgotten as the girls vied to teach their new friend a favorite family song. Kerry leaned against the backboard of the seat and enjoyed their antics, trying to remember when she herself had been ten. Had she ever been as carefree as the Burnett twins? Her mother had died giving birth to Patrick when Kerry was six. It had broken Sean Gallivan’s heart, and most of Kerry’s memories concerned her attempts to try to make up to him for his loss. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, it had never been enough. She could never make up for her mother’s absence.
The sisters had lapsed into an argument again about the order of the verses, but there was less vehemence than when the dispute had involved a matter of the heart. “How would it be if we sang it once