Free Remembered by Tamera Alexander

watching her. She took a deep breath and gathered her composure.
    “Have I said something to upset you, Miss Girard? If I have, I humbly ask for your pardon, ma’am.”
    If she wasn’t mistaken, Jake Sampson’s demeanor had changed ever so slightly. He possessed a gentil quality she had not attributed to him before. “Not at all, Monsieur Sampson.” She cleared her throat. “But I do have something to inquire of you. Something that is most important to me.”
    He remained silent, watchful.
    “I am in need of a driver to escort me to neighboring towns in this area. I am willing to pay for the gentleman’s services, of course. And if he does not own a suitable carriage, I can afford to pay for that as well.”
    “A driver, you say.” He laid aside the maillet . “You mean like a man for hire to take you places?”
    “ Oui , a man for hire. Someone to drive the carriage.”
    His brow knit, whether from his frown or the smile that followed, she couldn’t be certain. “Someone to drive the carriage, huh?”
    “ Oui ,” she answered again, this time with less confidence. Why did he keep repeating everything she said?
    “I’m afraid I don’t know of any men lookin’ for a job like that at present, and I’m fresh out of carriages. But if it’s a wagon you need, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve got one in the back there, ready to go. It’s a freighter, made to order. Fella paid half up front and was supposed to pick it up a week ago, but he hasn’t showed. Haven’t heard from him either.” He gave her a discerning look. “How are you at handlin’ a team, ma’am?”
    “A team?”
    “Of horses, ma’am. Do you know anything about drivin’ a wagon?”
    “Ah . . .” Véronique found herself unable to maintain Monsieur Sampson’s gaze. “ Oui , of course. I have had that expérience .” If she counted that one time with Christophe when they’d been riding in the carriage and he’d momentarily handed her the reins. They’d been eleven at the time, if she remembered correctly.
    Question lingered in Monsieur Sampson’s features. “Why don’t you just take the stage, miss? That’s a lot easier, not to mention safer and cheaper.”
    “I have studied this option at length, and the stage route does not encompass where I need to travel.” While passing through Denver with Monsieur Bertram Colby, she’d visited a surveyor’s office and had procured a list of mining towns in the area surrounding Willow Springs. According to the map, the communities dotting the landscape didn’t appear to be far from each other. She wasn’t experienced in map reading but had calculated with relative confidence that the mining operations could be visited in short order.
    “And just where are you needin’ to go, miss?”
    The manner in which he posed the question gave her the impression she was losing his favor, and that was something she could definitely not afford. “I desire to visit your neighboring mining communities, Monsieur Sampson, and I am willing to pay the driver a most generous wage.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I got the generous wage part just fine. But these mining communities . . .” He said the last word pointedly, as though it were a question itself. “I don’t know what information you’re workin’ off of but there are no mining communities around here—not civilized places where a young woman like yourself ought to be travelin’. No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “They’re rough and dirty and uncivilized, and I’d hardly call them neighborly. The only drivers that trek up to those camps are rascals who I wouldn’t want you goin’ with. Not even with me along ridin’ shotgun, much less on your lonesome. They’d take advantage of your tender age, and even young as you are I think you’re old enough to know what I’m referrin’ to.” His expression said what his words only hinted at.
    Véronique felt her face heat, due in part to the topic of conversation but also at being cast,