Free Natchez Flame by Kat Martin Page B

would be hard-pressed to give him the ease he’d need.
    “There’s some bacon over near the fire,” he said. “I didn’t take time to make biscuits. Mine aren’t worth a damn, anyway.”
    “Mine are,” Priscilla said proudly. “I’m a very good cook, you know.”
    Brendan’s face lit up. “God, I’d give six months’ pay for some real home cooking. Think you could bake a pie if I found some wild berries?”
    “Pies are my specialty.”
    While Brendan cared for the livestock, Priscilladressed in the dark green calico she had worn the day before. She ate the bacon he had fried, along with a slice of melon, and cleaned the skillet in the creek, using the clean sand in the bottom to scour away the grease.
    When they finished breaking camp, Brendan helped her up on the wagon seat. “You drive the team,” he said from the ground at her side. “I want to do a little scouting, see what’s up ahead.”
    “Me? B-but I—”
    “Just stay on the road—such as it is. I won’t be far away.” He gathered the big black horse’s reins and swung effortlessly into the saddle. The animal snorted and pranced, but Brendan spoke to him with quiet authority and the animal settled right down.
    “Ready?”
    Priscilla swallowed hard. “What do I do first?”
    Saddle leather creaked as Brendan shifted his weight to look at her, his light blue eyes accusing. “Son of a bitch, I should have known.” With a scowl that told her exactly what a priss he thought she was, he swung down from his horse.
    “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it, I just need you to tell me how.”
    Brendan grinned at that, the hard lines easing, his blue eyes twinkling. “Well, Priscilla my girl, you might find it just a tad more difficult than it looks.” He tied the horse to the back of the wagon and climbed up on the seat beside her. Unwinding the reins from around the brake, he released the lever and slapped the mules lightly on the rump.
    “Well?” Priscilla pressed when he made no move to give her the reins.
    “Something might happen. I don’t want to take any chances.”
    “As you pointed out last night, we’ve got a good three days’ journey ahead of us. Teaching me to drive the team will help pass the time.”
    He shook his head. “No.”
    “If I’m going to live on a ranch, I’ll have to learn sooner or later.”
    For a moment he didn’t answer, then with a sigh, he pulled the team to a halt. “All right. I guess you can’t get in too much trouble as long as I’m sitting beside you.”
Like hell
, he thought, his eyes skimming over her body.
    He’d decided to scout ahead more to cool his blood than because he really needed to. There’d been no sign of the men from the trading post. Odds were they wouldn’t see another soul until they reached the Triple R.
    “Hold out your hands.” Priscilla did as he said, and Brendan laced the leather lines through her fingers. “Slap the reins against their flanks and talk to them.”
    “Talk to them? What do I say?”
    He smiled at that. “Since we don’t know their names you can call them whatever you like. Just keep your voice quiet but firm and tell them to get going.”
    She set her gaze on the animals in determined concentration. “All right, mules, let’s go,” she said, lightly slapping the reins. To her relief, they brayed and started right off.
    “They like you,” he teased.
    “They are kind of cute, in a lop-eared sort of way.”
    “They’re cute, all right, as long as they’re doing what you want them to.”
    “How do I turn them?”
    “It’s just the opposite of riding a horse—instead of using the pressure of the rein on the animal’s neck, you pull. Pull on the right rein, you go right, the left rein, you go left, and ease up on the other side.”
    “Since I never learned how to ride, I shouldn’t get too confused.”
    Brendan released a long, slow breath. “What in blazes are you doing out here, Miss Wills? You’ve got about as much business on the