Chapter 8

The men were still on edge the next day, yet Faith could finally breathe again. Knowing that Grant not only knew her secret but also promised to help her keep it and protect her should she need a hand in that area, well ... she'd never realized how wonderful it was to have a friend.

She usually had one or all of her sisters around during a new adventure. In fact, she couldn't ever remember going on an excursion without one of them.

Grant hadn't treated her differently today, though every now and then he gave her a long look that might garner notice from some of the others if they weren't so preoccupied with watching for whoever was following them. Grant had also stumbled when speaking her name once, nearly calling her Miss Collins. She needed to make it clear he should think of her even in his mind as Frank.

They'd finally reached the lake where Parson wanted to set traps this afternoon. Most of the men had already unloaded their possibles sacks and metal traps, and headed in different directions to claim an area they thought most likely to produce results.

She and Grant had been tasked with unpacking the animals and preparing the evening meal. Now they'd just about finished hobbling the horses and mules.

Grant straightened and patted the bay he'd just secured. "I'll get a fire started."

"I thought I'd make another stew tonight and start some beans soaking so we can cook them in the morning." That would be a nice change from meat stew every meal. After the dumplings last night, Parson had mentioned she should try to avoid using flour more than once a week. They'd only brought one small barrel of cornmeal too, which didn't leave much except beans and meat.

After tightening the knot in the hobble securing her last mule, she stood and stroked the animal's shoulder as she readjusted the pouch holding the necklace for Steps Right beneath her shirt. "Enjoy that grass. We'll be back to water you before nightfall."

She strode toward the camp, picking her way around the animals tearing at the rich grass that covered this valley. Grant had already gathered a pile of wood and now held the tinderbox, preparing to strike the flint and steel.

She moved to the food sack and reached down for it, but a flash of light jerked her gaze up.

Grant threw the tinderbox into the air just as a boom exploded in a puff of powder.

Shouts sounded from the others, and her heart surged into her throat. Was that a gunshot? Had Grant been hit?

He stood there, hands spread, staring at the tinderbox as it landed on the ground in shards.

"Are you hurt?" She moved to his side and touched his shoulder.

That contact seemed to push him into action. He stepped back, gripping her arm and pulling her with him. "Get away from it. I don't know what happened."

Parson came running, his breath heaving as he halted beside them. "What happened? Are you shot?"

Grant motioned toward the tinderbox, releasing her arm as he strode forward to pick it up. "Not shot. But this exploded when I lit a spark."

"Let me see it." Parson took the tinderbox from Grant's hand and examined the mangled case. His mouth pinched tight as he looked up at Grant. "There's residue from gunpowder in here."

She blinked. "How did that get there?"

Grant jerked his head to her with a frown. Only then did she realize she'd forgotten to deepen her voice. Parson didn't seem to notice, though.

The man looked around at the others who'd gathered. "Anyone know why there'd be gunpowder in the tinderbox?" He swung his gaze around them slowly, even eyeing her before turning to Grant himself.

"You think one of us put it there?" Grant raised his brows. "You think I'd blow my own hand off?"

Parson straightened. "I didn't say what I think. I simply asked a question."

Grant didn't back down. "It's my own personal tinderbox. I'd be the last one to tamper with it."

Parson frowned. "It looks like the one I brought for the camp keepers to use."

Grant shook his head. "It came from the supply wagons like yours did, but this was a gift for my service on the journey out. You'll find my initials carved on the underside."

Parson flipped it over, his brows drawing lower before raising again. He looked up and turned to the others again. "I'll say it again. Does anyone know who put gunpowder in Grant's tinderbox?"

The knot in her middle pulled even tighter. Who would do such a thing? Was it a prank done by someone who thought it was the general lighter?

She couldn't help a glance at Riggs. He seemed the only one young and reckless enough to do such a thing, but even he would know a trick like that would be dangerous.

But the shock and horror in his expression couldn't be feigned, could it?

Willard was the first to speak, his voice a bit of a growl. "That's a serious thing you're accusin' us of." He glanced around at the others. "Any o' you boys put gunpowder in the man's tinderbox?"

The men responded with "No" and "'Course not."

Willard turned back to Parson. "We didn't do it. I 'spect you better look elsewhere for yer scoundrel." He sent a glare past Parson to Grant. "Maybe he's tryin' to get notice for hisself. Make the rest of us look bad."

She stiffened. Why would he think Grant would do such a dangerous thing to himself?

Grant's eyes narrowed. "I have no reason to put gunpowder in my own tinderbox. Nor do I want to blame anyone for it unjustly."

Parson raised a hand, his voice stern. "Enough. Maybe it's not one of us. Or maybe it was an accident." His gaze slipped back the way they'd come, probably searching for any sign of followers.

He turned back to the men and flapped his hand at them. "Go on an' finish setting traps. I doubt we'll stay here, but I wanna know if the trappin' is good first."

As the group dispersed, Grant turned to Faith. His dark eyes bored into her, and he kept his voice low. "Be careful. Take precautions in everything you do."

A shiver slid through her. "You think one of them was trying to hurt you?"

His jaw locked. "I'm more worried they were trying to hurt you. You're usually the one who starts the campfire. They might have thought that was the tinderbox you were going to use."

She wrapped her arms around herself, and her gaze slipped to where Riggs and Skeet knelt by a trap near the water. "I'll be careful."

She couldn't bring herself to ask the question that rose in her mind. Did they suspect her deception?

She had to get away.

The men had finished setting their traps, and all were lying around camp, mending or cleaning supplies. But mostly ogling Faith. Did they suspect her real identity? Or were they suspicious that she'd placed the gunpowder?

Grant saw it too, and was acting as protective as a mother bear, aiming curt remarks at any man who looked overlong in her direction. He didn't say anything to reveal her gender, just turned the man's attention elsewhere. But how long before he blundered?

She needed time away from all these men. Just a few minutes to walk along the creek and talk in a voice that wasn't so artificially deep it strained her throat.

As soon as she ladled the last bowl of stew and handed it to Grant, she stood. "I'm going to the creek." She sent him a look that he would hopefully interpret as Don't come after me.

He nodded, his eyes holding their own warning. "Be careful out there. It'll be full dark soon."

She kept her face neutral as she nodded and turned to walk away. The cooler air this evening brought a small relief as she walked, her steps quickening to put distance between herself and the camp. The sound of the creek rushing over rocks eased her spirit as she neared the water. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ease the knot in her chest.

This little stream flowed into the lake where the men had set their traps. Its water was too shallow for there to be a waterfall farther upstream. And Parson knew she wanted to see every falls around the area they traveled, so he would have said something if he knew of one along this waterway.

But still, she followed the trickle up the slope. This wasn't a full mountain, just a boulder-strewn hill easy to maneuver in the half-light of evening. The effort stretched her limbs and cleared her mind. But as the incline became rockier and more vertical, the murmur of the water grew louder.

Could there be a waterfall here after all?

Shrubby brush clung to the sides of the creek, concealing the water unless she stood right next to it. One particular slope required her to move away from the stream to maneuver the climb upward. When she worked back to the edge of the bank, the louder rustling stirred hope in her chest.

She pushed aside the branches to reveal a pool at least a horse-length wide. A small fall of water spilled into it from a height as tall as her head.

A lovely setting, and possibly considered a waterfall, though nothing grand like the one where she'd met Grant.

Still, she should explore the area thoroughly. Steps Right could be here.

The rock behind the falling water clearly held no opening, so she climbed farther up the slope, then searched a distance away from the stream in both directions. With so many boulders, she had to take care to push aside the grass and brush around every one of them.

White Horse had showed them how easily a cave could be concealed by a small tree and a rock placed at just the right angle in front of the opening.

She found nothing, though. This must not be the right waterfall. She hadn't really thought it would be, but...

As she stood in the darkness next to the rustle of cascading water, she raised her voice loud enough that someone nearby would hear. "Steps Right, are you there? I'm a friend of your son, White Horse. You saved my father many years ago, and I've come to bring you a gift from him."

She wasn't certain how much English the woman understood, but probably not as much as she'd just spoken. Not that she was actually hiding nearby, listening. Still ... "Steps Right. If you're there, speak to me. I come in peace."

Only the murmur of the water answered.

She released a long sigh. She should go back to camp now. Parson would have the men bedding down soon, so she wouldn't have to worry about evading questions or suspicious looks. If he was planning to post a watch as he'd done the past two nights, she would need to know her assigned time.

Pushing one foot forward, then the other, she started down the slope. At least this walk would be easier than the climb up.

She'd only gone halfway when the click of a rock skittering against another stone came from the line of trees ahead. She froze, straining to hear in the darkness.

"Faith?"

The sound of Grant's voice eased the weight on her chest, and she exhaled a long breath. She couldn't even be frustrated with him for following. She didn't have to keep a wary fa?ade in place around him. She could be herself, and the thought of a friend to ease the disappointment beckoned.

So she called softly, "I'm here."

He stomped into view in the moonlight, a scowl shadowing his face as he paused to look at her. "Where have you been? Thought I'd find your dead body."

She couldn't help a smile. "Thank you for coming to find me before the wolves carried off my carcass."

He snorted and shook his head. He didn't appear willing to continue the banter as he surveyed the land around them, taking in the creek and the rocky slope. He nodded toward the hill behind her. "How far did you go?"

"Another ten minutes or so. I found a small waterfall and searched the area, just in case."

His expression softened. "No sign of your friend?"

She shook her head. "No caves. No evidence of people at all."

He gave a grim nod. "We'll keep looking. There will be plenty more waterfalls."

She started forward, and he fell into step beside her. They walked down the hill in quiet, but she kept her steps slow so they wouldn't reach camp too soon. She wasn't quite ready to face the others yet.

In truth, she'd like to know more about this man beside her. Despite his grumpiness, he seemed to be a man of character. A hard worker too, not given to complaining, no matter the lot laid on him.

How could she ask about him in a way that wouldn't seem impertinent? Maybe if she started casual conversation, she could lead into more interesting questions.

"What's happening back at camp?"

"A few of the men who traveled with Parson before were telling stories about the last time they camped here."

She nodded. "I'm sure their tales are interesting. Have you ever been this way before?"

"Nope."

That didn't work as well as she'd hoped. Maybe he needed to loosen up a bit first. She tried a different line of conversation. "Has Parson said whether we're keeping guard tonight?"

Grant looked toward camp before returning his focus to the shadowed path ahead. "Yeah. My watch is at midnight. You get the night off."

She shot him a look. "Parson gave me the night off? Or you don't want to babysit me?"

His brow gathered in a grimace that almost made her wish to take back the words. But she wanted to know the answer. And a direct question seemed to be the only way he'd offer information.

"Parson did."

She'd have to believe him, though a part of her still suspected chivalry on his part. Or maybe annoyance.

What else could she ask that would get him talking? She glanced toward the camp for inspiration. They would reach the light of the fire soon.

Her foot slipped on a rock, shooting forward so fast, she couldn't catch herself before crashing flat on her rear. Pain shot up her back, slowing her efforts to right herself.