Chapter 23

23

Letty ducked her chin and turned her attention to Rusty, rubbing his side and drying his fur with the bottom of her cape.

Good heavens! She’d just kissed a man. A thank-you kiss, of course, not an I’m-a-forward-woman-trying-to-take-advantage-of-you type of kiss, but still ... a kiss. She hadn’t considered the consequences, she’d just ... followed the impulse. Was there even such a thing as a thank-you kiss in the real world? She’d read stories where ladies bestowed the favor of a kiss upon knights or other gentlemen after an act of valor, but she had no idea if the practice still existed. Or if a man like Philip Carmichael would be aware of such a custom. Gracious! What must he think of her now? First she’d unwittingly imposed surreptitious snuggling upon him back in the Bullocks’ barn, and now she’d foisted a kiss upon him when his arms were too full for him to defend himself. She didn’t even have a credible excuse. Her heart had simply been so full it overflowed. Through her lips, apparently.

Heat suffused her cheeks, and her rubdown of Rusty increased its vigor.

In her defense, nothing in her experience had prepared her to witness such a valiant spectacle. Philip Carmichael, dripping river water and carting a half-drowned Rusty in his arms, would forevermore appear in the dictionary of her mind next to the word hero. Yet she couldn’t seem to assuage the guilt that had bombarded her the moment he’d plunged into that river.

He could have been swept away and lost to her forever! Her heart had squeezed so hard in her chest at the sight of him lunging off the log that she’d nearly fallen on her face when she’d dismounted Shadow. Then she’d stumbled down the embankment to the river’s edge and been tortured as time passed with agonizing slowness. Before today, she’d never really understood what the Bible meant when it talked about the Spirit interceding with groanings when a person didn’t know how to pray. Now she knew. Desperate groaning had been all she’d been able to manage as her soul cried out to the Lord for help. Thankfully, the Spirit must have interpreted, for God brought Philip safely to shore.

“We n-need to get g-going,” Philip said as he released his iron grip on Rusty and attempted to stand. “F-find shelter.”

Her cape slid from his shoulders, and she frowned. “What we need is a room with a roaring hearth where you and Rusty can get dry and warm, and where you can rest from your ... adventure.” She arranged her cape around Rusty’s shivering form, then faced off with her stubborn guardian. “I say we go back to the bridge and follow the road to the closest town where we can find a room to rent. I don’t want either of you coming down with the ague after this.”

Philip crossed his arms over his chest and glared, a look that would have been much more intimidating if his teeth hadn’t been chattering. “N-no t-towns. T-too d-dangerous for y-you.”

“Well, being out in the rain after taking a dip in a frigid river is too dangerous for you . If you take sick, who’s going to watch out for me then?” Not that she cared one whit about herself at this moment, but his honor would let him care about little else, and she wasn’t above using that against him.

His hand clasped her wrist. “No towns.” He tightened his jaw and spoke slowly, as if he thought his chattering teeth weakened his position.

Nothing about this man was weak, and she intended to make sure that remained the case.

Lightning flashed in the stormy gray of his eyes. “Your word, Letty.”

“On one condition.” Two could play the demand game. “You help me scout out a place of substance for us to shelter in. Of substance , Philip. A tarp strung between two trees is not sufficient. I want walls and a roof and a place for a fire.”

He released her wrist and made a sound in his throat that could have rivaled one of Rusty’s growls. “When did you get to be so bossy?”

“About the same time you got to be so wet.”

He chuckled. Yes, he shook his head while he did so, and she was pretty sure she’d caught an eye roll before he turned his head, but that chuckle warmed her through and through. This was the friend she’d been missing. The one who’d been hidden behind the cold walls of professionalism for the past couple of days. The one she intended to care for with the same diligence he’d exerted on her behalf.

Philip plopped onto his rear and tugged his left boot off with a grunt. “Fine.” He tipped the boot over, and the equivalent of a glassful of water poured onto the dirt. “I’ll find us some substantial shelter.”

“Excellent!” Letty bent over Rusty and arranged her cape around him so he would be protected from the drizzling rain still falling from the sky. Patting his back, she lowered her voice as she cooed to her pet. “You just rest here for a few minutes, my friend. I’ll be right back. And then we can find a nice spot next to a big fire for you. How does that sound?”

Rusty offered a tepid whine in response. The sound tugged on Letty’s heartstrings. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head through the fabric of her hood.

“You’re such a loyal friend,” she whispered, “so fierce and brave. It’s my turn to take care of you. You and that stubborn Pinkerton over there.” She cast a glance at Philip, where he sat frowning over the water pouring from his second boot. “My two heroes.”

Watch over them, Lord. Protect them from sickness, and give me the ability to do for them as they have done for me.

Leaning over Rusty, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his neck in an embrace she hoped brought him a little heat as well as comfort. Then she straightened, blew out a breath, and brushed the wet sand from her skirt. The action didn’t accomplish much in the way of cleanliness—everything was far too damp—but it felt like a preparatory step that needed to be taken as she shifted from follower to leader.

“I’ll fetch the packhorse while you change into some dry clothes.” She aimed her pronouncement in Philip’s direction but didn’t wait for his response before striding toward a less steep section of the embankment.

“Hold on a minute.”

Letty peered over her shoulder and found Philip on his feet, trying to shove his soggy foot back into his wet boot.

“ I’ll fetch the packhorse,” the muleheaded man insisted. “You stay here with Rusty.”

For pity’s sake! She was trying to help him.

Letty jabbed a finger in his direction. “You, Mr. Carmichael, are going to march up to that faithful steed of yours and fetch a pair of dry stockings along with a dry shirt and trade in that drenched buckskin for the slicker you keep tied up behind your saddle. Then you’re going to get Rusty up this embankment and feed him a piece of jerky to help him regain his strength while you scan that map you carry for a route likely to lead us to the substantial shelter you promised me.”

He raised a brow at her highhanded manner. “Putting on dry clothes isn’t going to do much good in the rain.”

“There’s a difference between damp and drenched, and I aim to see you as dry as possible before we set off again.” Unexpected tears rose to clog her throat, but she choked them down. “I will not have you catching your death because of me, Philip Carmichael, and that’s final.”

“You’re still awfully bossy,” he grumbled.

“Yes, well, you’re still awfully wet. Maybe when you’re drier my mood will sweeten.”

He flashed a smile, and some of her ire evaporated. Then his expression turned somber. “Stay out of sight, Letty. And put on that extra slicker I packed for you. No sense in all of us being soaked to the skin.”

Her gaze met his, and a fluttery feeling danced through her chest. The concern in his eyes looked anything but professional.

“I will,” she promised, her voice going as soft as her heart.

Then she cleared her throat and resumed her hike with resolve. This wasn’t the time for soft. This was the time for strong. The two most important males in her life had taken a blow, and she intended to lighten their load and see to their welfare. Whether they liked it or not.

****

Philip swallowed the urge to call Letty back when she reached the top of the embankment. He wasn’t one of those pompous fellows who believed a woman too delicate to handle adversity without a man to guide her. Shoot, he’d grown up on a farm with his mother working right alongside his father. There was nothing delicate or weak about his mama’s constitution, nor her mind. He saw the same strength in Letty. He didn’t doubt her capability in retrieving their packhorse and finding her way back to him. The woman had a good sense of direction, and even if she didn’t, all she had to do was follow the river. Nevertheless, the fact that she didn’t need him dented his pride.

Still, he recognized the efficiency of her plan. He wasn’t exactly operating at peak performance at the moment. Battling river currents, bruising branches, and a floundering wolf had left him fatigued and sore in more places than he could count. He rubbed at a particularly achy spot on his chest where he’d scraped against the log to pull himself out of the water. The next few days were going to be mighty uncomfortable.

Philip grimaced as he hunkered down next to Rusty. The wolf’s snout poked out from beneath Letty’s hood. “You’re probably more banged up than I am, aren’t you, fella?” Philip stroked Rusty’s side through the cape.

The animal had taken quite a kick to his side. Hopefully the blow hadn’t been severe enough to do any serious internal damage. As Philip continued to pet him, Rusty turned his face toward him and licked his hand. Philip stilled at the show of affection from his erstwhile nemesis.

“Wow. Two kisses in one day.” He reached under the red hood and ruffled the wolf’s ears the way he’d seen Letty do countless times. “Gotta admit, I liked hers better.” Rusty whined, and Philip grinned at the woebegone expression on the wolf’s face. “Now, don’t go getting offended. I appreciated the gesture. Besides, I’m sure you like her petting a whole lot better than you like mine, so that makes us even.”

Rusty licked Philip’s hand a second time, then dropped his head back down onto his paws, as if holding it up required energy he didn’t have.

“I guess you’re not quite up to climbing the embankment, are you?” Fortifying himself for a task he wasn’t all that certain he was up for, Philip scooped Rusty into his arms and grunted his way into a standing position. “Just so you know,” Philip huffed as he headed up the slope, “I’m not going to lug ... your heavy carcass around ... on a regular ... basis.”

Leaning into the hill, he followed Letty’s footsteps, thankful she’d found a path easier to traverse than the one he’d skittered down earlier.

“You’re not exactly ... one of those little pugs ... rich ladies tote around ... like Queen Victoria.” In truth, Rusty’s weight felt more akin to a cow at the moment, but that had more to do with Philip’s flagging muscles than the animal’s actual poundage.

In the wake of that pitiful observation, Philip stumbled and banged his knee against the slope in front of him. He fought for balance, jostling Rusty in the process, but managed to keep his grip without either dropping his cargo or tumbling down the hill. A rather impressive accomplishment, seeing as how his feet were still mostly numb.

With his legs under him once again, Philip trudged upward and eventually crested the top of the hill. He carried Rusty into the trees and laid him beneath a large pine that still had some dry-looking needles at its base. Next, he fetched his horse, hobbling like a gout-ridden old man while doing so, and led Steele into the trees near Rusty. It took a ridiculously long time to pull off his drenched clothes and replace them with dry ones from his saddlebag. Cold, trembling fingers didn’t match up well against the suctioned grip of wet cloth on clammy skin.

He rubbed his small shaving towel over his chest, arms, and hair, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. What he really wanted to do was peel off his sodden trousers, but they’d have to wait. He only had one spare pair, and they needed to stay dry until they found shelter. The wool socks he pulled onto his feet felt heavenly—until he shoved them into his wet boots. He sighed. It seemed dry was going to remain out of reach for a while.

Philip pulled on his slicker and rolled up his wet clothes inside his buckskin coat and tied the wad behind his saddle. He gave Rusty some jerky, then poured some water from his canteen into a tin cup for the wolf to lap up. Tearing off a hunk of dried meat for himself, Philip pulled out his map and plotted a new route. One that would skirt a little closer to known homesteads where he might find an abandoned barn or line shack they could put to use.

As much as he wanted to push forward and cover the miles needed to get Letty to Houston, he couldn’t deny the need to be at his best if any of Radcliffe’s men caught up to them. He couldn’t afford to be sluggish or weak. Not with Letty’s life hanging in the balance. And right now, sluggish and weak was exactly how he felt. He also had an ache throbbing in his head and cold seeping into his bones.

Philip shoved all of that aside the moment Letty returned. A man could take stock of his frailties when alone with his thoughts, but when there was a job to do, he did what needed to be done.

Yet after they’d ridden for an hour without finding suitable shelter, Philip’s frailties became harder to ignore. Energy depleted, he slumped in the saddle, his vision blurring as he gazed through a curtain of rain. His head pounded, and his body shivered. Only these shivers coursed through him with a different intensity than the ones he’d experienced after his dunking in the river. As much as he tried to rationalize away the signs, Philip suspected his shivering symptomized something more sinister than chilled skin.