rule him an honest man? She thought herself a good judge of character—that was how she had been able to form her group of men. She had judged each one individually on his own unique merits, and all had proved worthy.
This man had a look of worthiness about him, and his concern for her safety attested to his honorable character. He would defend the defenseless, though his opinion on who needed defending was somewhat skewed.
Still, her main concern was his reluctance—actually his refusal—to follow her orders. The safety of her village depended on everyone obeying her rules. One person not following those rules placed the village in jeopardy. Burke’s presence alone could do that.
“Have you given it enough thought?”
He sounded anxious.
“I have a duty to protect my people.”
“I would bring no harm to your group.”
“Not intentionally,” she said.
“What of the money? Don’t tell me you can’t use it? Since my arrival in Scotland, I have seen with my own eyes the suffering of the less fortunate. Money would ease that suffering considerably.”
He was right about that. Their food supply had dwindled to a dangerous low, and they would need to replenish it before winter.
“I can tell you are a sensible leader—”
“Yet you cannot obey me.”
Burke shook his head. “Your head reaches my chest, and in those clothes you resemble a mere lad. You don’t exactly look like a leader.”
Her protest died at his outstretched hand.
“Let me finish. Your actions demonstrate your leadership abilities, and that your men obey you without question tells me they admire and respect you. Which means you will do what is necessary for your people.”
He had that right. Her decisions were always based on the good of the whole, not merely the one. But his inability to obey orders could be a detriment to the group; his funds, however, would definitely prove beneficial.
“Let me think about this,” she said.
“How long?”
“Until we reach our first destination, a couple of hours at least. Now let’s get moving. We need to catch up with the others.”
Storm waited for him to pass her, and for amoment he looked as if he stubbornly refused to move. He stood stone still, his brown eyes fixed on her as if in a trance, and then suddenly he jolted forward and hurried past her.
The group’s pace slowed at times in consideration for those few who found it difficult to keep up, and a persistent cloud followed them overhead. Otherwise, they met no obstacles.
Storm had no time to think further on her decision. She conferred with her men who scouted the area, adjusted her plan in case anyone had gotten wind of it, and determined which of the prisoners were in need of care.
She took a moment to stop for a breath and take in the beauty of the woods. Small pauses were necessary now and again, or else she would be forever lost in fighting to survive.
It hadn’t always been like this. Life had been good once. She had loved each and every day, and then she’d lost the most precious thing in her life—her husband.
She chased the thought from her mind, or else it would consume her, beat her down, and devastate her all over again. She couldn’t allow that to happen; she had people who counted on her. Which reminded her that she had a decision to make in regard to the American.
She had never turned away anyone in need of help. But why did he need to know about her homeland of Scotland? What had brought Mr. Longton to its shores? She had to be careful whom she trusted. There was a bounty on her head, but surely a manfrom America would know nothing about that. Would he?
Shortly they would arrive at their first destination and she would need to make a choice. Let him join her group or cut him loose. She drifted back until she walked alongside him.
“Made your decision yet?” he asked.
“I’ve thought on it.”
“Anything I can do to sway your choice?”
“Tell me what brought you to Scotland.”
His brown