Lone Star Bride. Jolene Navarro

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      With a nod, she looked over her shoulder again. “How long will they follow us?”

      “A day or two. We don’t want to make it easy for them to get into the camp.” He looked over his shoulder. “If we allow them to take a couple of the steers, and make sure we have the wagon and horses covered, they should move on.”

      Nodding toward her rifle, his eyes narrowed. “You know how to use that? Ever shot a living thing?”

      “Yes. My father taught me to shoot what I was aiming for. I never missed my target. Even the moving ones.”

      He chuckled and looked at her. She couldn’t tell if the spark in his eyes was amusement or admiration.

      “Good. I tell you what—you are one strange woman, and for once I’m very happy about that. Tie your horse to the wagon and sit with Cook. You can ride shotgun.”

      The pounding of her heart seemed to have changed directions. Instead of fear, something else jolted it.

      A different kind of anxiety. Jackson trusted her to protect the wagon. She sat straighter. “I can do that. Thank you for trusting me.”

      “What’s your real name?” A grim line replaced any smile he might have had.

      “I thought we agreed I would be Tiago so there was no confusion.” Was he going to get all manly and protective on her? Riding with Cook might not be about her protecting the wagon, but keeping her locked away.

      She glared at him, trying to figure out his motive.

      “You know I can help. You don’t have to keep me in a safe place.” She didn’t want to admit that her heart had soared with relief when he had joined her.

      “When I saw you across from the warriors, I wanted your real name. What if something does happen? My first thought was...if I have to bury her, I won’t know the name to carve into the marker.” There was an angry clip to the edge of his voice. “I want to know the real you. Not the fake name.”

      “I am Santiago. If I die on the trail, that is who you will bury.” Pushing her hat lower, her hands trembled.

      He reached across his horse. Under his large hand, hers disappeared. “I will not be burying you on this trail.”