Wagon Train Proposal. Renee Ryan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ troubled. “The Tucker brothers have gone to a lot of trouble transporting this trunk across miles of difficult, rugged land.”

      Rachel sighed. Grant and Amos had seemed so charming, so likable. In reality, they were nothing but liars and thieves. Now her brother and Tristan were leading the charge to capture them.

      Rachel’s heart tightened with fear. Ben had been keeping order and breaking up fights since their first day on the trail. Tristan was a town sheriff. She had to trust they could handle themselves in this situation.

      Still, she lifted up a prayer for their safety, then added, Lord, bring Grant and Amos to swift justice.

      The moment she finished the prayer, she caught sight of Tristan climbing into the canoe with Ben.

      Tristan’s a lawman, she reminded herself. Of course he would set out to apprehend the Tucker brothers. Nevertheless, she lifted up yet another prayer for Tristan’s safety.

      James attempted to join the two men in the canoe, but Tristan waved him off. “We’ll pursue the brothers,” he said. “You stay with the money.”

      The agent looked prepared to argue, then seemed to think better of it. “Good plan.”

      Ben and Tristan navigated the rapids quickly, but the twins had covered a lot of ground already.

      Another rush of fear rose to the back of Rachel’s throat and stuck. No amount of swallowing dislodged the sensation.

      James Stillwell’s voice dropped over her. “I should probably determine which of these items were stolen and which actually belong to the Tuckers.”

      The suggestion was exactly what Rachel needed to distract her from worrying about Tristan and her brother. “I can help with that.”

      “I was hoping you would say that.” They shared an awkward smile, then simultaneously dropped their gazes to the trunk.

      Rachel sighed again. “I find it hard to believe Grant and Amos could be so, so...” She shook her head. “Deceitful.”

      “They fooled everyone, Miss Hewitt, including me.”

      Bottom lip caught between her teeth, Rachel watched Ben and Tristan pull the canoe onto the opposite shore and set down their oars.

      A short nod passed between them, and then off they went, Tristan leading the way over the first ridge.

      Refusing to allow her fears to overwhelm her, Rachel reached inside the trunk and picked up the first item. The silver hairbrush. “This belongs to Delores Jensen.”

      Better, she thought, now that she had something to do with her hands.

      What seemed like hours passed. In actuality, Ben and Tristan returned barely twenty minutes later.

      They were alone.

      Eyes locked with hers, Tristan climbed out of the canoe.

      Pleased to see him, and mildly surprised by the depth of her reaction, Rachel went to meet him. She desperately wanted to touch his face, to assure herself that he was unscathed, but that wouldn’t be proper. Or appropriate.

      She settled for searching his features with only her gaze.

      “What happened?” she asked, somewhat alarmed at how breathless she sounded.

      Lifting his hat a moment, Tristan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “We lost them in the cliffs.”

      “We could see them, but couldn’t get to them.” Ben wiped sweat off his brow. “They had too much of a head start on us.”

      James slapped his hand on the trunk’s lid. “I doubt they’ll leave all this without a fight. We’d be smart to come up with a plan to keep the money safe and—”

      “Ben! Oh, Ben, I heard the Tucker brothers are the thieves and that you went after them.” Eyes slightly wild, Abby lifted her hand to touch Ben’s face. “Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?”

      “I’m fine, Abby.” He cradled her small hand inside his. “Frustrated. No, make that angry, but fine.”

      The two leaned in close and spoke in hushed whispers. Pulling back slightly, Abby took Ben’s hand, pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm.

      The gesture was brief, even casual, yet somehow intimate, as well. Rachel felt like an intruder, watching Abby fuss over Ben while he attempted to soothe away her concerns with soft words and gentle touches.

      Turning her back on the two, Rachel tried to stifle a sigh.

      Tristan looked up at the sound. For a moment, his eyes softened and the stiffness in his shoulders eased. She tried to smile at him, but her mouth wobbled instead. A rush of...something spread through her, a brief, unexpected need to belong to someone, to anyone.

      To Tristan?

      Too soon, her mind told her. It was entirely too soon to fall for the man, to think about belonging to him, to wish for something that might never be possible.

      She must be logical.

      She must remember to guard her heart.

      Too late, her traitorous heart whispered. Too, too late.

      Giving in to that sigh, after all, she pressed her hands tightly together. Either that or go to Tristan and...and...

      She cut off the rest of her thoughts. “I have to go.”

      “Go?” He tilted his head to one side. “Go where?”

      “I have to...” Think, Rachel, think. “I have to return these stolen items to their rightful owners.”

      Not waiting for his response, she gathered up an armload of objects that belonged to fellow travelers and hurried away.

      * * *

      Later that afternoon, just before sunset, Tristan decided that Sam Weston was the most competent, efficient trail boss he’d ever met. Despite the trouble with Grant and Amos Tucker and the shock among the emigrants over the twins’ deception, the wagon train left Fort Nez Perce at high noon. Right on schedule.

      Now, with the sun bumping up against the horizon and leaving a spectacular array of color in its wake, Weston waved his hand above his head.

      The day’s travel had come to an end.

      More than ready for a break, Tristan guided the raft he shared with James Stillwell and another emigrant through the rough current toward the shoreline.

      Hopping onto the rocky beach, he looked around, fought off a surge of dark foreboding. His encounter with the Tuckers had put him on edge, making him feel scraped raw on the inside. He hated that they’d escaped, hated knowing they would show up again yet not knowing when.

      When they returned, and they would return for the items they wrongfully believed belonged to them, they would probably be desperate. Desperate equaled reckless. Reckless equaled СКАЧАТЬ