a buggy than being on horseback. âProfessional curiosity. Do you know why my father hired this man? What are his qualifications for leading us through the forest?â
Asher shrugged as he mounted. âHeâs been there before, I guess, but heâs an odd one. Doesnât seem to like people at all, always puts his bedroll outside the campsite, never wants to ride with anyone, and he doesnât like to talk. Ask him a question about himself and he refuses to answer. Iâd like to know where your father got him too.â
âKnowing my father, you probably donât want to learn the entire truth of whatever heâs done,â Chris said under her breath. When she got home, she was going to give her father a piece of her mind about this ridiculous kidnapping.
At sundown, they heard the whistle again and Asher halted her as he went ahead into the trees, returning minutes later with two fresh horses.
âDid you suggest to him that we might like to rest?â Chris asked as she mounted the horse.
âI most certainly did,â Asher said. He looked more tired than Chris felt and she thought she was probably more accustomed to riding long hours than he was. âBut we have to go on. Ty wants to get to the edge of the forest before we halt. But he says weâll have an entire day of rest when we get there.â
âTy,â Chris murmured as she mounted. She spent the next several hours as they jogged along wondering about this mysterious man who came into her room and held her, watched her dress, then disappeared to lead them through a forest that was said by the Indians to be haunted. And why had her father hired him? And who was Prescott? He didnât seem to know much more about traveling through this land than she did, but heâd been chosen as half of the rescue team. What in the world was her father up to?
Chris had plenty of time to puzzle over the facts since they continued riding all night. Her questions kept her mind alert and kept her from feeling the absolute exhaustion that ran through her. Theyâd had no sleep or rest for two days and two nights now.
When Chris was beginning to weave in the saddle and twice she had nearly fallen off, she thought she saw a light through the trees. Blinking several times to clear her vision, she began to be more sure of what she saw. Somehow, she knew it was a fire built for them. âOtherwise, Ty wouldnât let us get so near,â she murmured to herself.
âMr. Prescott,â she called and succeeded in waking him from where he slumped forward in his saddle. âLook ahead.â
There was renewed energy as they urged the horses on toward the fire and all Chris could think of was finally being allowed to stop and sleep. Even as she was still moving, she began to unfasten the straps at the back of the saddle that held her sleeping roll.
When they did halt, Chris dropped her bedroll onto the ground, then fell on top of it and was asleep in an instant.
She had no idea how long she slept before something woke her. She opened her heavy eyelids. It was still dark but there was a faint hint of early morning light and in it, she could see outlined a man wearing a wide brimmed hat moving almost silently as he unsaddled the horses and gave them food and water.
Chris half slept, half waked as she watched him and even when he began to walk toward her, she still didnât awaken fully.
He knelt by her and it seemed perfectly natural when he pulled her into his arms. Like a sleepy child, she just smiled and snuggled against him.
âYouâre on top of your blankets,â he said in that voice that seemed to rumble through her. âYouâll get cold.â
She nodded once while he straightened the blanket under her, then put the other one on top. For just a moment, as he covered the far side of her, she thought his lips were near her forehead and she smiled, eyes closed. It was like a good-night kiss from
Christina Leigh Pritchard