Ana Seymour Read Free

tightened. “My father’s dead,” she said gruffly, remembering at the last minute to keep her voice low.
    The man looked disconcerted. He rubbed a hand along a whiskery chin. “Ah…I know that. I’m sorry. We’ve been in touch with your lawyer, of course. But I was addressing you, sir. I’d be happy to call you by your first name, if you prefer, but I don’t know what it is. I’m Jeb Hunter,” he added.
    Kerry sat back on her haunches and willed herself to stay calm. Of course, she was Mr. Gallivan now. And she’d have to do a better job of keeping her wits about her if she wanted her ruse to succeed.
    Her brother calmly reached a hand toward the newcomer. “Pleased to meet you, Captain. I’m Patrick, and that’s Kerry. Skipping the ‘mister’ part would be fine with my…ah…brother.”
    “Kerry?” the captain asked, still trying to see into the dim interior.
    “Ah…Ker…ah…Kiernan.” Patrick corrected firmly.
    Captain Hunter cocked his head. “Irish name, right? Well, are you two gentlemen finding everything to be satisfactory?”
    Patrick looked at his sister to reply.
    Kerry took a deep breath and spoke carefully in the deep voice she’d been practicing. “We seem to have a few more supplies than we can fit, Captain Hunter.”
    Jeb grinned. “Old Albert Boone knows how to pack them in, that’s for sure. But I think you’ll find that they’ve given you just enough to cover your needs. The wagon may look crowded now, but you’ll get used to it.”
    Kerry risked leaning a little into the sunlight. In spite of her resolution to stay away from Captain Hunter, he would have to see her face sometime, and it might as well be now. “The problem, Captain, is that we’ve brought a few items along with us from New York that have to go in our wagon.”
    She noticed that he started a little when he saw her, and she quickly pointed behind him, hoping to distract his attention. Jeb gave her one more hard glance, then turned back toward the rented wagon. With a low whistle he swung a long leg over his horse and jumped to the ground. “What in the name of Jupiter is all that?”
    He didn’t sound pleased. Kerry swallowed. “There’s some farm equipment, and the two boxes are my father’s tools.” The defensive tone made her voice creep higher.
    Jeb stalked over to the freight wagon and looked at the jumbled contents with disbelief.
    Once again Patrick took charge. “My brother and I are going to start our own ranch in California. My father brought those things with him when he came from Ireland.”
    Jeb turned around and looked from Patrick back over to Kerry, who had once again retreated into the shadows. He shook his head. “There’s no way you’ll be able to take all this with you. Your father should have understood that it would be impossible. I’m sorry, lads.” He lowered his head and once again tried to peer inside the dark recesses of the wagon. “Listen, I know your father’s death must have been a terrible shock to you two. If you want to head on back to New York, I’ll be sure you get your money back from the association and from Boone’s, too.”
    Kerry’s cheeks flushed hot. She had been told one time too often over the past few days that she ought to consider giving up. Vaulting over the lip of the wagon she landed hard on the ground and turned to face Jeb Hunter with her hands on her hips. “Captain Hunter, my brother and I are going to California, and we have a contract that says you have to take us.”
    He took a couple steps toward her. His eyes were an odd hazel color, the corners crinkled from years of riding outdoors in the prairie sun. He had a strong face that matched the raw strength of his tall body. Her anger died as swiftly as it had arisen. “We won’t give you any trouble,” she added softly. “I promise.”
    Jeb looked at her curiously, then over at Patrick, and back once again to the loaded freight wagon. “That stuff came all the way from Ireland?”