Free The Captive Heart by Dale Cramer Page A

what I meant. That day when we were logging and he pointed his guns at those bandits, standing there all sweaty, without his shirt, wearing that rag around his head like an Indian, I saw the way you looked at him, Miriam.”
    Her jaw tightened. Crossing her arms, she broke eye contact to stare at her father’s back. “The look you saw in my face was fear. I was afraid they were going to kill him. They would have, if not for you. I haven’t forgotten that, either.”
    Micah would say no more, but it was clear from his bristling silence that he was not satisfied with her answer.
    Domingo found a safe harbor for the night in a little hollow of the foothills between Arteaga and the first mountain pass. They made camp, and Miriam cooked dinner over a campfire. Afterward, the men sat around the fire talking while she cleaned up and washed dishes at the back of the wagon. She was drying the last of the dishes by lantern light when Micah came up behind her, touched her shoulder and spoke quietly.
    â€œI’m sorry about what I said in the wagon, Miriam—about you and Domingo.” He was holding his hat in his hands, turning it slowly by the brim, looking down at it. “I’m not so good at knowing how to talk to a girl, that’s all.”
    This, she understood. Sometimes the best of men didn’t know how to speak to a woman.
    â€œIt’s all right.” But she didn’t look at him. She finished drying a bowl and packed it into the box at her feet. He didn’t go away. Clearly, there was something else he wanted to say.
    â€œA question is in my mind,” he said. “Why am I here?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, why was I asked to come along on this trip? Hershberger has sons of his own, and he has Jake, too. He could have brought one of them to Saltillo, but he didn’t—he asked me to come instead.” Micah was still turning that hat in his hands, staring at it, when he mumbled, “I guess I was hoping John invited me because you asked him to, that’s all.”
    Miriam straightened up and looked at him. A lantern hissed softly on the tail of the wagon, casting dark shadows in the lines of his face.
    â€œIt wasn’t me, Micah. And I doubt that it was John, either. You’re right, he would have brought one of his own unless . . .”
    Miriam cast a sideways glance at the three men sitting around the fire. Domingo’s hands worked the air, telling an animated story, while Caleb whittled on a stick and John sat smoking his pipe.
    â€œUnless what?”
    â€œUnless my dat asked him to bring you along.” She hadn’t thought about it until now, but it was the only explanation.
    â€œYour father? Why would he do that?”
    A little smile crept onto her face. “It can only be that he’s worried about his nineteen-year-old daughter becoming an old maid schoolteacher. I never knew my dat to play matchmaker before. But wait . . .” She shook a finger, remembering. “He did tell me to ride with you the day we went logging.”
    Micah’s shoulders sagged and a sadness came into his eyes. “I thought you rode with me because you wanted to,” he muttered.
    â€œOh, I did —when we were coming home. But my dat told me to ride with you that morning, when we were heading out.”
    Micah’s face softened and his lips moved silently, working over the words he wanted to say before he said them.
    â€œWell, I’m glad for that. It was mighty fine having you beside me all the way home. Miriam, I know I’m not the smartest man in the world but I’m strong and hardworking and honest and . . . and I like you an awful lot.” He looked her in the eyes, hesitating. “I want to tell you that I liked you from the first time I saw you. You’re pretty, and it makes me feel good when I’m with you. I’d like to call on you if it’s all