The Christmas Journey. Winnie Griggs
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retrieved the pitchfork and leaned on it, studying her would-be customer. He was a sure-enough puzzlement. Obviously well-heeled. And not a bad-looking man if you liked the broad-shouldered, smooth-as-worn-leather type. But he wasn’t a too-good-to-get-his-hands-dirty gent either. Knew how to handle himself, too. That had been a slick move he’d made, knocking the gun from Otis’s hand and then covering Danny’s back.
“Let’s see,” she said, thinking out loud, “Foxberry is about a day’s ride—assuming you’re an experienced rider.” She paused and he nodded stiffly. Not that she’d expect him to answer otherwise. “It’s just past noon so you won’t get there today. Let’s say three days for the trip there and back then, and maybe five days’ stay. That means you’d have the animal tied up for about eight days, give or take.”
Jo rubbed her chin, ready for a bit of dickering. “That kind of time won’t come cheap. You sure you wouldn’t rather wait? My family runs a boardinghouse and I’m sure my sister has a comfortable room we can rent you for a fair price.”
Mr. Lassiter pulled a wallet out of his coat. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. Name your price so I can get going.”
Jo’s knuckles whitened as her grip tightened on the pitchfork. He could just whip out that wallet of his and go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he didn’t even seem to realize how lucky he was. Much as she hankered to get out and see something of the world, she’d never traveled more than twenty miles from Knotty Pine in her entire twenty-three years.
Lord God, it just ain’t fair.
“One hundred dollars.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized what she was going to say.
“A hundred dollars?” His eyes narrowed. “I could practically buy the animal for that price.”
Too late to back down now. “Not one as good as these. Besides, I don’t have any guarantees you’re going to return the animal, do I?” She ignored the way he’d stiffened. “Like I said, you’d be better off waiting for the train.”
To her surprise, he pulled out a wad of bills. “Here. Anything to get on my way.”
Realizing her jaw had dropped, Jo hurriedly closed her mouth. This fool was actually carrying that kind of money around with him? And a hundred dollars didn’t even clean him out—the wallet was still plump when he stuffed it back into his jacket. “But—”
He’d grabbed her hand and the shock of that physical contact shut her up. He slapped the money into her palm, then moved to the stalls.
Guilt pinched at Jo’s conscience. She’d expected him to haggle a bit—not actually agree to her outlandish price. It just wouldn’t be right for her to take all this money.
She bit her lip, staring at his stiff back. How could she give some of it back without sounding like a henwit?
I know, Lord, it’s my own fault for letting envy get the best of me.
Stuffing the money in her pocket, Jo followed him to the far end of the livery. “Of course,” she said as casually as she could, “you’ll get half of this back when you return the horse.” Much as she tried, she couldn’t stop the heat rising in her cheeks.
He shot her a look she couldn’t read. Then he nodded and pointed to the larger of the animals. “I’ll take this one.”
“That’s Scout.” The knot in Jo’s stomach eased as she settled back down to discussing business. “I’m afraid he’s a bit fractious—doesn’t take to strangers much. You’d be better off with Licorice.”
He shrugged. “He’s the better of the two horses. And I’ve handled more spirited animals before, both Texas-bred and foreign. I’ve even helped saddle-break my share. So I think I can manage Scout here just fine.”
Jo clamped her lips closed. There he went, hinting about his travels again. That was the worst part about this job. Watching other people come and go, hearing about all the places they’d been or were headed to, while she just stood and watched life pass her by. Would she ever be able to act on the plans she and Aunt Pearl had made?
Without waiting for assistance, Mr. Lassiter began gathering tack. He moved with an ease and sureness she had to admire. But he also seemed in an awful hurry. Made you wonder if he was running from something or to something.
“You manage this place all on your own?” he asked, not pausing from his efforts.
“Yep. Lock, stock and barrel.” Somebody had to support the family and for now she was it.
“Seems a mighty big responsibility.”
She stiffened. “For a woman, you mean.”
He glanced up and his expression reflected friendly curiosity, nothing more. “No offense, but I admit I find it an unorthodox arrangement.”
Did he believe this was how she’d planned for her life to turn out? “It’s a family business—my pa passed it on to me.” She jutted her chin out. “Like you said earlier, we do what needs doing. I can handle it.”
He grinned. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
For some reason that response bothered her more than anything else he’d said since they’d started this strange conversation.
She jammed her hands in her pockets. Did he think less of her because she wasn’t some soft, helpless female who needed a man looking out for her?
Not that she gave a hoot for his opinion. After all, she barely knew the man.
Jo did her best to ignore the niggling voice in her head that chided her for not being completely honest with herself.
Chapter Three
As he saddled the horse, Ry eyed the livery operator from the corner of his eye. Why in the world was she so prickly?
True, he had mistaken her for a man at first, but she didn’t know that. And he’d stepped in to defend her brother at no small personal risk. Why, he hadn’t even haggled over the outrageous price she’d demanded for the use of her horse.
Still, he couldn’t forget he’d actually let this woman—a member of the fairer sex for all her rough edges—face down a pair of armed thugs while he’d stood by.
His gut clenched every time he thought about it. It was an unforgivable act, going against everything he’d been taught about duty and honor. So he was willing to give her more than the usual bit of leeway.
He felt her gaze studying him as he worked, could almost see the questions forming in her mind.
Finally, she broke the silence. “I suppose you’re anxious to get your business taken care of so you can spend Thanksgiving at home.”
Home. Ry paused, patting the horse absently. Lately he’d been trying to figure out exactly where that was—in Philadelphia with his grandfather or Hawk’s Creek with his brother and sister.
Sometimes he was torn between the two. Other times he felt as if he didn’t belong in either place. And holidays hadn’t felt special or festive in a very long time.
He gave himself a mental shake. Time enough to work through that problem after he saw Belle. And Miss Wylie was watching him curiously, expecting a response. “My family’s not big on holiday celebrations.”
That earned him a surprised frown, but no further comment. Instead, she moved across the stable and grabbed a bedroll. Retracing her steps, she hefted it onto the stall next to him. “Quinlinn is between here and Foxberry. You should reach it well before dark, but if you end up having to sleep on the trail you’ll need this. Gets cold at night this time of year.”
He grinned. “Believe me, this is mild compared to New England.”
Far from setting her at ease, his words deepened her scowl. It had been a while since he’d found it so difficult to