Sam’s Creed Read Free Page A

like a shield, he’d say yes.
    “That does not make the ideas wrong.”
    No, but it did make them hard to hold on to. “Do you have any belongings?”
    She pointed under the wagon bed.
    He flexed his shoulder. Shit. “Figures.”
    “If I am holding you back, you may just leave.”
    “When I leave you’re coming with me.”
    “Not unless it is to San Antonio you go.”
    Kell growled again. She turned on the dog, pointing her finger. “You, you will behave.”
    Kell, being Kell, ignored the command.
    Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wagon wheel. “You figure out how to make him do that, I’ll take you straight to San Antonio.”
    She shielded her eyes against the sun and frowned at him. “He is your dog.”
    “Not exactly.”
    “He’s not your dog?”
    Sam shrugged. “We’re working it out.”
    “I do not understand.”
    “He showed up a few days ago on the trail. We’ve shared a few meals but nothing’s permanent.”
    “It seems permanent to me.”
    “Appearances can be deceiving.”
    She nodded. She took another step, not toward Kell, but apparently he thought she was taking liberties. He lunged. Sam jumped forward. He was too late. With a rapid spate of something in Spanish, Isabella cracked the dog across the nose. He yelped and dropped back. Hands on hips, she glared at the dog. “No more out of you.”
    Sam shook his head. If that didn’t beat all. “I think he likes you.”
    Isabella bent down and worked her arm under the wagon. “Why do you say this?”
    “Because the last man who tried that got his throat ripped out.”
    She didn’t even blink, just scrounged deeper. “Then it is good we have reached an understanding.”
    Sam supposed it was. The view she was unwittingly giving him of her rear was also good. So much so she had to repeat herself when she needed his help. Bracing her palm on the bed, she said, “You must lift the wagon again. I cannot get my bag out.”
    Her bag. The wagon. Shit. He couldn’t afford to be this distracted. “Got it.”
    In a matter of seconds she had the small satchel out. She’d packed light. Too light to plan on having more than one change of clothes. Too light to have any resource once she arrived at her destination. “Who’d you say you were running from?”
    “I did not say I was running.”
    He reached down and helped her to her feet. The top of her head came to the center of his chest. She just seemed bigger. “But you are. And a little thing like you needs all the help she can get.”
    “I am not little.”
    “Petite then.” He tugged her toward Breeze, who was patiently waiting. Kell fell into step beside them.
    “I am not this petite either.”
    “You’re taking two steps to my one,” he pointed out.
    “You are a giant.”
    He took her satchel and hooked it over the saddle horn, hiding a grin. Her height, or lack thereof, was obviously a sore spot, “How about tiny? Can you live with tiny?”
    “No.”
    Her nails dug into his wrists just atop his gloves, the gloves he resented because they kept him from feeling the softness of her skin.
    “Wait. We have to bury them.”
    “Duchess, whoever did this is probably still around. That being the case, we don’t have time to dig holes.”
    Her lips flattened. “You must.”
    “I don’t have to do anything.”
    “I owe them.”
    “I thought the padre arranged the deal.”
    “But I was to provide money.”
    For all her high manners she didn’t look like she had two coins to rub together. “Did you have any?”
    “No.”
    She said it as if those four men would have traveled anywhere with something as sweet as her without taking their payment out of her hide. “They would have been ticked when they found out.”
    “Yes.”
    “You’d have probably ended up on your back working the cost off.”
    She didn’t look shocked. “It was a possibility.”
    A woman would have to be seven kinds of desperate to take off with those odds staring down at her.