few of the ranch hands watched them, but none said a word to her or him.
She swung up and watched him climb into the saddle more slowly. “If I take you with me across the pass, I have to blindfold you.”
“You’re kidding.” He looked like his morning had just gone from bad to worse.
She pulled out a red bandanna. “It’s this or you don’t go. No one outside the family and a few trusted friends is allowed to know the back way into Whispering Mountain.”
He looked like he might swear, but instead he took the handkerchief and tied it around his eyes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll lead you safely through.”
He grabbed the saddle horn and waited, telling himself he trusted her. After all she wouldn’t waste oil on his hands if she was planning to let him fall off the first ledge they came to.
Em made a slight clicking sound that started both horses moving.
She had no idea what he was up to, but he seemed willing to do whatever was necessary in order to get it. They rode behind the house and began to climb. She’d been taught how to slice through the hills to the town without leaving a path an intruder could follow. There were points along the journey where she knew to stop to make sure she wasn’t being tailed. The state wasn’t as wild as it had been, but the family still kept the path secret. If rustlers would steal cattle, they’d steal horses as well.
Lewt had been right about the rain. It did seem to be falling harder, and the trip took more time than usual because she had to move slower across slippery rocks. Lewt didn’t say a word. Without a hat, she was surprised he wasn’t half drowned by the time they reached the summit and began the trip down. She might not know who the man was or what he was up to, but he wasn’t a complainer. That one thing she liked about Lewt.
When they reached a wooded area at the corner of town, Em told him he could take off the blindfold. She handed him the reins to his horse and noticed Lewt hadn’t shaved. A dark shadow of the beginnings of a beard made him look far more like an outlaw than a man from a good family.
“You all right?” she asked as she watched him wipe his eyes with the wet bandanna.
“Do you care?” he answered.
“Not really.” She laughed. “But I might get my pay docked for killing one of the guests.”
He glared at her. “I’m all right. Don’t worry about me.”
“I won’t.” She turned to cross a stream and never looked back to see if he followed.
When they reached the road, he pulled even with her.
Within a few hundred yards, buildings began to block the wind. Em pointed to the train station. “I’ve got business. I’ll meet you at the station in an hour. You can leave your horse in the covered area over by the livery. They never bother McMurray horses. The town square is just beyond. You’ll find several stores there. You might even talk the tailor into making you another black suit.”
He didn’t smile when she looked over at him. Em told herself she didn’t care. She had banking to do, a list of supplies to pick up from Tamela’s mother, and a stop at the post office to make. She had no time to babysit him.
Her first stop was the post office, where the postman’s wife told her to be careful. A couple of no-good drifters had been robbing folks outside town. The woman said they were probably two of a dozen or so trail tramps who wintered in town waiting for spring and the cattle drives to start. Most of their types made money in the spring and summer and then found odd jobs come fall. Those who didn’t work either budgeted their money or looked for work on the other side of the law.
Touching her Colt strapped to her leg, Em felt like she could handle any trouble that came along. Over their mother’s protests, Papa had taught all three of the girls to handle a gun.
She stopped by the sheriff’s office to see if any of the deputies had heard from her uncle Drummond. When he was in town serving as sheriff, the wrong type never hung around long, but he always went with his wife, Sage, when she made her rounds doctoring the sick.
The deputy, who looked like he’d been