Chapter 3

3

C ASS C OUNTY , T EXAS

Nothing stirred Letty Hood’s imagination quite like watching a lumberjack swing an ax. All that manly vigor and strength. The thump of the blade notching the wood. The rhythmic rasp of the saw as a pair of lumbermen worked together to fell the tall pine. The shout of “Timber!” in a deep, masculine tone seconds before the crack of breaking wood echoed through the forest. Could anything be more romantic?

Well, she supposed plenty of things could be more romantic. Like actually making eye contact with a man and sharing a smile. Or taking his arm during a stroll along the river. Or being swept across a ballroom floor in a skirt-swirling waltz.

Hard to do any of those things while in seclusion, however. Hence her mooning over lumberjacks from a distance.

Letty sighed and rolled from her belly onto her back, trading her view of husky woodcutters in the forested valley below for fluffy white clouds drifting across a pale blue sky. She plucked a long stem of needlegrass and twirled it around her finger.

“I know I shouldn’t complain, Lord. I should be grateful to be alive and safe. And I am. Truly. I have Grandmother and my books. And you, of course.” A cold nose jabbed her in the chin. Letty giggled as she ruffled her fingers through the fur at the red wolf’s neck. “I’m grateful for this ragamuffin, too. No girl could ask for a more loyal companion.”

As if satisfied with her recognition, Rusty licked the side of her face, then bounded off to chase whatever small creatures he could flush from the undergrowth.

“I have much to be thankful for,” Letty acknowledged as she rubbed dog slobber from her cheek. “Yet I can’t help wishing for more. For someone special to love. And for that someone special to love me in return.”

Like what Mama and Daddy had shared. Memories of her parents had faded over the last decade and a half, but she’d clung to a handful of impressions. Daddy’s deep chuckle blending perfectly with Mama’s melodic laugh. How they’d hold hands as they strolled through the garden. The times Mama would come up behind Daddy and rub his shoulders as he read the newspaper. The special smiles they reserved only for each other. And her favorite memory of all—the time Daddy caught Mama under the mistletoe. He’d dipped her backward over his arm and kissed her full on the mouth. The staff had cheered, and Mama’s face had turned as red as her hair, but the way she and Daddy had looked into each other’s eyes afterward had stamped an impression on Letty’s heart that could not be forgotten.

Love. Pure and unbreakable. That’s what she craved.

Grandmother told her to be patient. She’d have her pick of gentlemen callers after she turned twenty-one and returned to Houston. But Letty wasn’t sure she wanted to resume Scarlett Radcliffe’s life. A life of weighty responsibilities and societal expectations. A life where her wealth would make her the target of fortune hunters and schemers eager to take advantage of her inexperience. Becoming the Radcliffe heiress held little appeal. Yet she couldn’t remain Letty Hood forever, roaming the woods with her pet wolf and hiding from the truth of her heritage. So she would go back. At least temporarily. She’d honor her father and mother as Scripture taught, but she’d find a way to do that as the woman she’d become, not the one she might have been had her uncle not driven her into hiding.

A rhythmic thudding broke through Letty’s wishful thoughts. She jerked upright, grabbing her hood and pulling it over her head as she scrambled to her feet.

Horses. At least two. Heading her way.

She sprinted down the hill to where the trees grew thicker, desperate for the cover they’d provide. “No one can see you.” Her grandmother’s constant warning rang in her ears.

Had her uncle found her? Letty’s heart pounded as she raced deeper into the trees. The hooves sounded closer, but she struggled to determine their direction.

“Don’t panic. Fear steals your sense, and good sense is a woman’s best weapon.”

Letty skidded to a halt and pressed her back against the largest pine within reach. Instinct urged her to keep fleeing, but Grandmother’s training held her in place.

Look. Listen. Assess. Plan. Execute.

Forcing herself to inhale through her nose a couple of times to get her breathing under control, she attuned her ears to her surroundings. No hoofbeats. Had the riders stopped?

Leather creaked somewhere to her left, as if a man was standing up in his stirrups. Letty turned her face in that direction as she reached for the knife sheathed at her waist.

“Did ya see where he went?”

A man’s voice. Close.

Letty pivoted slowly, keeping her body behind the tree as she carefully peered into the thicket.

“He’s here somewhere. I can feel it.”

A second man. One whose voice made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

“He ain’t really hurtin’ anything, Parker. Maybe we should just let him be.”

A horse’s head came into view about five trees down from where Letty stood. He tossed his head, his ears pricked. A rider leaned forward to pat his mount’s neck. “You smell him, don’t ya, boy?”

The dark brown horse snorted and took another step forward, revealing his rider. The man was in his shirtsleeves, the cuffs rolled to his elbows over tanned, meaty arms. His suspenders pulled tight over a barrel chest encased in red flannel. The top buttons had been undone at the neck to expose a stained undershirt that might have been white once upon a time. A dark unkept beard hung a few inches from his chin, but it was the rifle draped across his lap that turned Letty’s stomach.

Never again would she spin romantic daydreams about meeting a lumberjack. If this fellow was a typical specimen, she wanted nothing to do with them.

A second horse whickered and stomped a hoof. A tail swished out from behind a tree barely twenty feet from where she stood.

“I don’t like this, Parker. I’ve heard rumors about this ridge. Folks say it’s haunted. Sully swears he’s seen a wraith floatin’ about these parts, wearin’ a long bloody cape.”

Letty’s brows arched as she reached for the edge of her brick-red cape.

“If there’s an angry spirit about, that could be what’s spookin’ the horses. I say we head back to camp. Forget about the wolf.”

Letty sucked in a breath. Wolf?

“Quit your whinin’. Them ghost stories are nothin’ but nonsense. Where’s your spine, man? What’s real is that wolf we spotted. You know as well as I do that the only good wolf’s a dead wolf. They’re vicious creatures. We’re doin’ Cass County a service by curtailin’ the population. Especially with that big alpha. We get rid of him, the pack will scatter. The good Lord gave us dominion over the beasts for a reason. Time to exert our dominance.” He twisted his face and spat on the ground.

Letty tightened her grip on her knife. Mankind had been given care of God’s creatures, not the right to decimate them at will. She’d not let these men hurt Rusty. Even if it meant confronting them herself.

Please, Lord, keep Rusty far from here. Send him back to the cabin, give him a rabbit to chase, anything that will keep him—

Padded footsteps registered a second before a familiar form brushed against her leg.

Rusty crouched at her side and slinked forward, a barely audible growl rumbling in his throat as he bared his teeth.

No!

“He’s a big ’un,” Parker said, a horrible grin splitting his face. “His pelt will bring a pretty penny.”

Letty crouched down and wrapped an arm around Rusty’s neck. “No.” Her whisper carried more plea than authority. “You can’t let them see you. They have guns.”

Her words had little effect on her pet. He strained against her hold. Ready to attack. To protect her. Not realizing that he was the one in danger.

She had to do something ... protect him somehow...

One of the horses neighed again, obviously uneasy. If she could spook them, get them to flee...

The flicker of an idea tickled her mind. Dare she?

“He’s close.” Parker dropped his reins and took his rifle in both hands.

Now or never.

She murmured a firm command to stay in Rusty’s ear, then sheathed her knife and grabbed hold of the edges of her cloak.

Letting out the most terrifying shriek she could muster—something between a warring Comanche and a dying chicken—she ran straight for the horses’ heads, unfurling her cape to obtain maximum billows. Flapping and screeching like a demented owl, Letty streaked past the horses. The animals spooked, rearing back on hind legs.

Rusty failed to obey her order to stay out of the fracas. He raced at her side. Too committed to turn back, she accepted his company and prayed Parker would be too busy controlling his horse to take a shot.

Not stopping to watch the mayhem, Letty sped on through the woods, turning southeast to take advantage of the denser forest cover. A rifle shot split the air. Letty flinched, and her feet stuttered as she glanced behind her to ensure Rusty hadn’t been hit. The red wolf never broke stride as he surged forward to take the lead. Relief gave her wings as she loped after him.

Not wanting to risk leading the strangers to her cabin, Letty had set them on a path that followed the creek line through the woods instead of the path that would take them home. Rusty bounded along the water’s edge, his four legs quickly outdistancing Letty’s two. A sharp pain in her side forced her to slow. Halting beside a large pine, she braced an arm against its trunk and struggled to catch her breath. She used to run all over these woods when she was in short skirts, but once she turned sixteen, Grandmother had lengthened her hems to cover her ankles and encouraged more restrained feminine behavior. Apparently brisk hikes were sufficient for maintaining a robust constitution but less than adequate when it came to keeping one prepared to outrun wolf-hunting strangers.

Twisting to peer back into the forest, Letty quieted her breathing as best she could in order to listen for hooves or voices. She heard neither.

Thank you, God.

Her body sagged, danger no longer spearing through her middle like a tent pole. Leaping across the small creek, she began working her way back to the house. Rusty, of course, was already there. By the time she reached the small clearing surrounding the cabin, Rusty was barking and scratching at the back door, excited from his adventure. Grandmother emerged, shooing him out of her path as she came out. Holding up a hand to shade her eyes, she scanned the clearing.

“Letty?”

“I’m here.” She waved as she hurried across the clearing, thankful for her grandmother’s preference for the brisk walk. Letty’s breathing had nearly returned to normal by the time she reached the cabin.

“Heavens, child. What happened? You look like a twister sucked you in and spit you out the other side. Are you all right?” Grandmother took her arm and scanned her from head to toe.

The small gray-haired woman might look like the usual doting grandma with her reading glasses perched low on her nose, apron tied over her rounded midsection, and sweet concern dripping from her voice, but the woman kept a loaded shotgun by the front door and carried a derringer in her pocket any time she went to town. The good people of Queen City, Texas, had no idea the lengths to which Iris Hood would go to protect her secrets—secrets centered around a granddaughter no one realized existed.

“There were two men on the ridge. On horseback.”

Grandmother reached inside the open doorway and grabbed hold of the shotgun. “Get in the house.” She braced her feet apart and scanned the tree line for encroachers.

Letty placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. They’re gone. I scared them away.”

The sharp jerk of Grandmother’s chin accompanied by a severely arched brow aimed in her direction indicated her guardian was less than pleased by that bit of news.

“They weren’t after me,” Letty hurried to explain. “They were after Rusty. I heard them talking about how the only good wolf is a dead wolf. I think they were lumbermen from the camp in the valley.”

Instead of calming her grandmother, Letty’s explanation only seemed to deepen her displeasure. “Inside. Now.”

Letty scrambled to obey. Her grandmother rarely used that tone, the one that carried a devastating mix of command and disappointment. Tears moistened Letty’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She wasn’t a child any longer, and she wouldn’t be made to feel like one. She knew Grandmother loved her and only wanted to keep her safe, but they were partners in that endeavor now, and truth be told, Letty felt compelled to do a little protecting of her own. Grandmother tried to hide it from her, but Letty had seen the way she tired more easily of late and occasionally had trouble catching her breath. The stress of being in a constant state of vigilance over the last fifteen years had taken a toll.

Thankfully, Grandmother followed her inside. “You, too, Mr. Troublemaker.” She waved at Rusty and held the door open in invitation. The wolf gave a happy little yip before weaving between the two women and finding his favorite rug to settle on, the one typically only available to him when the weather turned icy.

Grandmother shrugged at Letty’s questioning look. “I’ve enough to worry about without that wolf of yours getting caught on the wrong side of a bullet.”

Letty bit back a smile. She might hold herself aloof, but Grandmother had almost as big a soft spot for Rusty as Letty did.

Once inside, Grandmother closed and latched the front door, then propped the shotgun back in its place against the doorjamb. Heaving a sigh, Grandmother crossed to her rocker and dropped into the cushioned seat. “I knew those loggers were getting too close. But with your birthday around the corner, I thought we could hold out a bit longer. Exposing you to a move this close to the end seemed the bigger risk. Your mama will send someone to fetch us as soon as we send that birthday letter you helped me write. Better for us to wait it out, though we should probably curtail your excursions for the next few weeks.”

Letty’s gaze drifted to the slender mantel above the hearth where her parents’ wedding photograph held the place of honor. “Are you sure Mama will find us? What if she doesn’t figure out our clues?” Or worse, what if she enjoyed her freedom and didn’t want her daughter back in her life?

Grandmother leaned back in her chair and started it rocking. “Nothing is more important to your mama than getting her girl back. Trust me. She’ll figure it out.” She quirked a grin in Letty’s direction. “Aren’t you the one always reading those fairy-tale stories? We’ll leave plenty of breadcrumbs for your mama to follow. She’ll send someone for you. Don’t worry. We just have to be patient.”

Letty pressed her lips together, not wanting to argue, but she was far from comforted by the breadcrumb analogy. After all, Hansel and Gretel’s crumbs had been consumed by birds, leaving the children lost in the forest and vulnerable to the wicked schemes of those who sought to harm them.