Free Heart of Lies by Jill Marie Landis Page A

careful to keep the craft balanced. She held firm to the iron ring where she’d lashed the craft for the night. Catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up. Abbott was waiting to join her.
    “Take care climbing down. Don’t make any sudden moves or you’ll upset the balance and we’ll go over.” She waited until he was aboard before she took up the forked push pole. She loosed the rope and they floated free.
    Abbott sat in silence in the bow of the boat, watching the banks intently. The bayou had had the same seductive affect on her the very first time she’d taken to the water. The twins were unmoved by the haunting, natural beauty of the swamp. The silence did not speak to them the way it did her. Unfortunately, the notion that Tom Abbott was in awe of it too brought her defenses down another notch.
    She studied the way he sat there so casually, one arm propped across his knee, his broad shoulders thrust forward as he studied one side of the bank and then the other. They passed a blue heron poised on one leg near the reeds along the bank and then floated silently past a black snake on the surface of the water.
    “Where are we headed?”
    She jumped at the intrusion of his voice and nearly dropped the pole. She took a deep breath.
    “To the heart of the marsh. Muskrats make tunnels in the soft ground away from the water. When we get there, I’m going to tie up and get out, but you stay put. Walking around on damp groundwith tunnels beneath takes some practice.” She feared he might be too heavy-footed to make his way safely across the marsh.
    “I’ll stay put. Guard the pirogue,” he said.
    “Most likely you won’t see anyone out here. If you do, just wave and don’t look threatening.”
    She slowly edged to the left and poled along between an ever-narrowing thread of water until the boat refused to go any further.
    “How do you know where to set the line?” Abbott had his hand to his brow, shading his eyes as he scanned the landscape. “It all looks the same to me.”
    “A friend told me I’d begin to feel where the rats might be. I choose spots where I’ve found them before and set traps in tunnels and holes. If you look close you’ll get better at recognizing paw prints. Sometimes there are gnawed roots and droppings around the entrances to tunnels.”
    “Your brothers make a lot selling pelts?”
    “My brothers wouldn’t do this on a bet. I do all the trapping and skinning myself, sell the pelts in Clearwater. First town up the road.”
    Abbott turned slowly and carefully, his hands steady on the sides of the pirogue, and stared up at her. “You aren’t joshing, are you? You catch and skin muskrats yourself?”
    “I don’t make jokes, Mr. Abbott.” There wasn’t much in her life to tease about and never had been.
    Carefully, she set down the pole and picked up an axe handle she used to club muskrats that hadn’t died in the traps.
    “Hand me the rope,” she instructed.
    He grabbed the end and stretching toward her, held out his hand. Their fingers touched as he passed the rope over. At the slow brush of his warm skin against hers, Maddie’s gaze involuntarily flew to his eyes. They were dark, unreadable, and held her gaze far longer than she would have liked.
    Did he know what she was thinking? Did her reaction give away just how long it had been since she had been close to someone?
    She was the first to look away. Shaking off her surprise at her reaction, she picked up the shotgun and stepped out. She tried to concentrate on the soft ground beside the boat. This was no time to let her mind wander. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up halfway to her waist in muck.
    “You leaving me here alone?” His voice shattered her concentration.
    “You’ve got your gun. I won’t be that long.”
    “What about alligators?” He looked around.
    “Keep your hands in the boat. I’ll be back shortly.” She’d try to hurry, but haste fueled