The Runaway Bride. Noelle Marchand
least she left your horse.”
He nodded. “She had her own horse. Besides, horse thieving is a hanging offense.”
“What do we do? Should we go back to the Brightlys?”
Sean moved toward the fire he’d built and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I’m sure they’ve moved on by now. It would take longer to catch up with them than to simply keep going to the nearest train station.”
“But we don’t have any money!” She threw her bedroll aside and began to pace. “I suppose I could ask my father to wire us some once we get to town. That’s probably the only option.”
“I was kind of hoping you might say that,” he admitted.
She sighed as she sank down onto a log across from him. “I can’t believe I’ve been robbed twice since I left Peppin. What is wrong with this world?”
He glanced at her over his steaming cup. “An impulsive young woman ran off to California alone. That’s what’s wrong with the world.”
She groaned. “You’d think there might be a grace period for fifteen minutes after I wake up, but no! You have to let me know you disapprove of me before I even have my coffee. I got that message a long time ago. Now, hand it over.”
“Get your own.” He nodded to the tin cup resting on the ground next to the coffeepot and ignored her rant. “At least she left us enough supplies to get to town.”
She poured herself a cup, then blew away some of the steam. “I wish she’d left a letter of authentication, as well. ‘To whom it may concern. This letter is to verify that in addition to my work as a thief I also dabble in conartistry—’”
“Conartistry?” Sean frowned, which was the closest thing to a smile she’d seen all morning.
She held up one finger and shook her head. “Let me finish. ‘I also dabble in conartistry by convincing young men and women that I am an adequate chaperone before robbing them blind and leaving them alone in the wilderness. Therefore, let it be known that I exist and testify to my betrayed charges’ good character.’”
He watched her carefully. “Do you always talk out of your head in the morning?”
“No, I usually try to talk out of my mouth. However, today there are extenuating circumstances.” A quick glance at Sean’s nearly smiling lips reminded her of why she’d dictated that letter in the first place. “What are people going to think when we show up without a chaperone?”
His green eyes flickered warily. “Hopefully nothing, but the less time we’re alone in the wilderness, the better. It’s time to pick up the pace.”
Chapter Three
Lorelei paced in front of the Western Union office as she waited for a response to the telegram she’d sent her father. The anticipation she felt knowing she would soon hear from her family confirmed she’d made the right decision about going back to Peppin. Just the thought of seeing her home again suddenly made her so excited she couldn’t get herself to sit down. Then again, she’d been sitting down—or rather, sitting up, on the back of a horse—for three days, and she wasn’t about to do it again if she could help it.
For the past few minutes, she’d been testing out different walks. Originally, her purpose had simply been to stretch her legs. To her fascination, she’d discovered that it didn’t matter how many different ways she walked past Sean. He simply would not look up from that piece of wood he’d been shaving with his pocketknife for the past half hour.
She literally waltzed by his bench. He still didn’t notice, but a little girl with beribboned braids stopped to watch. Lorelei winked at her before the child’s mother urged her on. The girl looked over her shoulder and beamed, causing Lorelei to do the same. Sean’s horse neighed a welcome when she danced toward his hitching post. “Hello, Jericho. You know, you’re much friendlier than your owner.”
“Lorelei.” She jumped at the sound of Sean’s voice and turned to see him gesture to the seat beside him on the bench. She reluctantly sat down. He handed her the piece of wood and tucked his knife back in his pocket. “I made this for you.”
A miniature replica of her stolen valise sat in her hands complete with tiny handles and a floral pattern. She stared at it blankly, then realized he expected a response. “This is nice.”
“Thanks.” He leaned back on the bench and covered his face with his Stetson.
She looked at it for another minute, then turned toward him to sharply ask, “Why would you do something this nice?”
“I was bored.”
“You should be bored more often,” she suggested.
He pushed his hat up slightly to meet her gaze. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, I won’t. I hate you. You hate me. Isn’t that how this story goes?”
He turned to level her with his sincere green eyes. “I don’t hate you.”
She stared back at him. She believed him. In fact, she’d known it all along. It was just nice to hear him say it. For a moment she saw all the things that had once made her fall in love with him. She allowed a hint of a smile to reach her lips.
She could almost imagine that he began to lean toward her. The Western Union operator interrupted the tenuous moment by finally calling her into the building. She immediately stood. Sean trailed after her because apparently that’s what he did.
“Miss, your father sent the money with a message and special instructions.”
“What was the message?”
“I love you and am glad you’re safe,” he read in a nearly monotone voice.
“Thanks, but I hardly know you,” she replied calmly. The man looked up sharply and frowned. Sean turned away with a sudden coughing fit. She smiled weakly. “That was just a little joke.”
Sean stepped up beside her again to ask, “What were the instructions?”
“I am to place all of the money in your care, sir. You are instructed to take care of Miss Wilkins’s needs and your own from these funds. You are not to let the young lady run off under any circumstances.”
“Papa, you didn’t,” she moaned.
The man surveyed her shrewdly. “He obviously doesn’t trust you with the money, Miss Wilkins.”
“Smart papa,” Sean added with a smile.
She frowned at them both. “Now y’all are just rubbing it in. Sean, get the money from the man and let’s get on with this.”
“What now?” Sean asked once they left the building.
“We both need a change of clothes, food, a room at the boardinghouse and a train ticket for tomorrow.”
* * *
Sean realized things had gone too far the moment the words you hate me came out of Lorelei’s mouth. He’d nearly gotten the picture when she’d questioned why he was being nice, but it wasn’t until later that the extent of their poor treatment of each other hit home. He wasn’t perfect, but he held himself and others to a very high standard of behavior. Lorelei had failed that standard when she’d inexplicably walked away from their almost romance two years ago and again when she’d impetuously run from the altar and his best friend.
He did have legitimate reasons to dislike her, but hate seemed like such an unchristian word. If he’d learned anything by spending countless hours with the woman, it was that she possessed redeeming qualities. She had a funny sense of humor, she hardly ever complained and she didn’t fall apart under pressure. He shouldn’t discount those things entirely—but neither should he let them skew his view of her completely. Maybe there was a balance. The trouble was that he wasn’t sure