I’m sure you didn’t.” Griff made himself stop grinning. “I expect the gunshot was someone keeping a fox away from their chickens, and the screaming was a mountain lion.”
“A mountain lion?” Her cheeks took on the same rosy hue as the sunrise. “Only a mountain lion?”
“You wouldn’t say only if you came face-to-face with one when it’s hungry and you’re hunting.”
“But they don’t hurt people, do they?”
“Not usually. They just kind of make the skin crawl when you hear them.”
“Yes, that’s just it. Like spiders all over.”
Griff grimaced. “I don’t much care for that. Don’t much like spiders.”
“Me either.” She smiled, and tension seemed to drain from her. “Did you say something about breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am. Momma said to bring you to the house so it’ll be hot. And you can meet Pa.” Griff hesitated. “I should warn you that if Pa’s in pain, he can be kind of ornery.”
“People in pain usually are.” She spoke with the authority of someone who held experience in that area.
Griff opened his mouth to ask, then thought better of it. He was leaving her to Zach. The more Griff talked to her about herself, the more difficult that could be.
Except he needed to know a bit more to understand why someone would pin that note to the schoolroom door. No, he’d tell Zach and leave that to him. The less Griff had to do with her, the better, which meant he should be taking his meals somewhere else. Seeing her over the dinner table three times a day might be a bit too much time looking at her face, listening to her voice.
Could she sing? With a voice that rich, she should be able to sing. If he pulled out the dulcimer one evening—
He drew himself up short and turned his back on her. “Come on. The day is wasting.” He didn’t wait to see if she followed him but strode across the hard-packed earth of the ground between the old cabin and the new house, scattering half a dozen cats feeding on something feathered. He wished he had one of those fine gardens like some of the houses close to town had, not herbs and vegetables like Momma and the girls kept, but flowers and bushes and useless things. Everything here was for use, not beauty.
And he’d never cared until the woman behind him had stepped from the cloud of fire smoke and leaf shadow and into the sunlight before him.
Esther’s cheeks felt too warm for the temperate morning air. Likely she would blush forever over being so panicked about a mountain lion’s cry. Not that she wanted to encounter one. The idea sent a shiver up her spine. They might not have much to do with people, but they were still potentially dangerous wild animals. The most she’d had to worry about before was the occasional poisonous snake—easy to spot, easier to avoid, and not terribly difficult to kill. One couldn’t outrun, outclimb, or outkill a mountain lion.
Tangling her feet in her petticoats to keep up with Griff’s long stride, Esther rubbed her arms inside their narrow sleeves. Woman in peril or not, those screams were going to give her nightmares.
If the note didn’t.
Another missive. Cryptic. Mean. Too similar to the ones she had brought with her to keep her parents from finding them. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but then, she hadn’t recognized the handwriting of the letters she had secretly received back in Seabourne. Yet surely no one could have located her. Not so soon.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the scrap of paper she had tucked into it. Regardless of who had sent it, she would add it to the others tucked away beneath her mattress. She would say nothing about it, pretend she hadn’t received it, as she had pretended she hadn’t seen the others. Griff wouldn’t say anything either if she asked him not to—perhaps.
She’d forgotten about the younger boys having seen the note. They said they couldn’t read much, but they could read enough, and they brought it up the instant
“A mountain lion?” Her cheeks took on the same rosy hue as the sunrise. “Only a mountain lion?”
“You wouldn’t say only if you came face-to-face with one when it’s hungry and you’re hunting.”
“But they don’t hurt people, do they?”
“Not usually. They just kind of make the skin crawl when you hear them.”
“Yes, that’s just it. Like spiders all over.”
Griff grimaced. “I don’t much care for that. Don’t much like spiders.”
“Me either.” She smiled, and tension seemed to drain from her. “Did you say something about breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am. Momma said to bring you to the house so it’ll be hot. And you can meet Pa.” Griff hesitated. “I should warn you that if Pa’s in pain, he can be kind of ornery.”
“People in pain usually are.” She spoke with the authority of someone who held experience in that area.
Griff opened his mouth to ask, then thought better of it. He was leaving her to Zach. The more Griff talked to her about herself, the more difficult that could be.
Except he needed to know a bit more to understand why someone would pin that note to the schoolroom door. No, he’d tell Zach and leave that to him. The less Griff had to do with her, the better, which meant he should be taking his meals somewhere else. Seeing her over the dinner table three times a day might be a bit too much time looking at her face, listening to her voice.
Could she sing? With a voice that rich, she should be able to sing. If he pulled out the dulcimer one evening—
He drew himself up short and turned his back on her. “Come on. The day is wasting.” He didn’t wait to see if she followed him but strode across the hard-packed earth of the ground between the old cabin and the new house, scattering half a dozen cats feeding on something feathered. He wished he had one of those fine gardens like some of the houses close to town had, not herbs and vegetables like Momma and the girls kept, but flowers and bushes and useless things. Everything here was for use, not beauty.
And he’d never cared until the woman behind him had stepped from the cloud of fire smoke and leaf shadow and into the sunlight before him.
Esther’s cheeks felt too warm for the temperate morning air. Likely she would blush forever over being so panicked about a mountain lion’s cry. Not that she wanted to encounter one. The idea sent a shiver up her spine. They might not have much to do with people, but they were still potentially dangerous wild animals. The most she’d had to worry about before was the occasional poisonous snake—easy to spot, easier to avoid, and not terribly difficult to kill. One couldn’t outrun, outclimb, or outkill a mountain lion.
Tangling her feet in her petticoats to keep up with Griff’s long stride, Esther rubbed her arms inside their narrow sleeves. Woman in peril or not, those screams were going to give her nightmares.
If the note didn’t.
Another missive. Cryptic. Mean. Too similar to the ones she had brought with her to keep her parents from finding them. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but then, she hadn’t recognized the handwriting of the letters she had secretly received back in Seabourne. Yet surely no one could have located her. Not so soon.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the scrap of paper she had tucked into it. Regardless of who had sent it, she would add it to the others tucked away beneath her mattress. She would say nothing about it, pretend she hadn’t received it, as she had pretended she hadn’t seen the others. Griff wouldn’t say anything either if she asked him not to—perhaps.
She’d forgotten about the younger boys having seen the note. They said they couldn’t read much, but they could read enough, and they brought it up the instant
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