Free The Pursuit of Tamsen Littlejohn by Lori Benton Page A

from the fire. Like a man heeding nature’s call, he came toward Jesse’s place of hiding. Jesse waited till he was far enough from the fire, then said with a half breath, “Here.”
    Cade’s sharp ears found him in the dark. “Jesse? What’re you doing? Come on in—”
    “Can’t, Pa.” A breeze threshed the hardwoods, sound enough to cover their talk. “I’m heading out, going to scout the trail.”
    Cade was a shadow at his side. Jesse sensed him stiffen. “You hear tell of trouble? Thought we’d head out on the Catawba trace, then aim for Roan Mountain—”
    “No trouble. Leastwise not on the trace. Can’t tell you why, but I got to start tonight.”
    Cade had him by the arm now, as if trying to sense in his flesh what he couldn’t see for the dark. “You get yourself into mischief back in town?”
    “There’s mischief right enough, but none of my doing.” Parrish had seen his face by lantern light but didn’t know him from Adam. Even if he fell under suspicion, the man hadn’t seen him with Cade. The less Cade knew, the less he’d have to conceal. “You trust me, Pa, that I ain’t done wrong?”
    “If you say so, then it’s so. But what of this company? These men expect you to be part of this crossing.”
    “Tell ’em what I’m doing—scouting the trail. I’ll meet up with you. Say, ’round back of Bald Mountain to begin with.”
    “After that?”
    “Depends. I may need to lay low for a time.” A squirrel chittered in the boughs above. An acorn dropped through the branches, skimming Jesse’s shoulder. There came a space of pounding heartbeats while Cade made up his mind.
    “All right, Jesse. Just be where you say you’ll be.”
    Cade’s gruffness told Jesse how far he was reaching to let him go without explaining himself. Jesse felt the burden of that trust as keen as that of the woman waiting for him under the oak, doubtless holding by a thread. He grasped Cade’s arm, felt the sureness of the hand gripping back.
    “I will be. Pray for me.” Jesse broke away, trying for a grin, though it was too dark for Cade to see it. “I’m thinking, after all, you might want to get that cow.”

    Jesse chose a trail out of Morganton unsuited to wagon travel. Few were so, being old Indian traces or buffalo paths that migrated about for miles to vanish high among the rocks and rhododendron, or down in the cane-brakes thick along streams. Jesse planned to make confounding use of them.
    Hours later, with the moon risen at their backs, he halted on the steepening trace and dismounted. “I’ll lead us for a bit. Horse can’t go all night carrying double.” When Tamsen said nothing to this, he hesitated, wondering at her mettle. “We got to get deep in the high country before dawn. If’n you need to see to things, now’s the time.”
    Seeming to grasp his meaning, she cast a look into the night-black foliage crowding close. Something rustled in a nearby thicket. She said a hasty, “No.”
    It was past midnight, by his reckoning, first time she came sliding out of the saddle. He’d been picking their way up a stony incline, alone with his thoughts but wide awake with caution. It was her box tumbling from the saddle that alerted him. He let that fall with a clatter, reaching for her instead.
    She was awake by the time he set her on her feet.
    “What?” she yelped, then groaned and swayed, bumping into his chest.
    Jesse gripped her tighter. “Careful. Mountain’s steep here.”
    Even with the cloak she was slender in his arms, pressed so close that the lacy bit pinned to the crown of her head snagged in the stubble under his chin. She pulled away from him, groping for the saddle. Then she turned, face pale in the moonlight.
    “My box. Where is it?” Panic laced the words.
    “It fell. Hold the horse; I’ll hunt it up.”
    She grasped his coat sleeve before he could move. “Please. It’s everything.”
    He put a hand to hers. “Calm yourself now. I said I’d find it.”
    Her hand