Free Always You by Jill Gregory Page A

earth.
    “Collect some wood for the fire,” Cal ordered without sparing her a glance. He was already leading the horses toward the stream.
    As Melora picked up a long, thin stick, she thought how dearly she’d like to hit him with it. But for now she’d best lie low and comply. Better to allay his suspicions and give the impression she wasn’t going to rebel anymore; then he might relax his guard enough to give her the opportunity she needed.
    Besides, after no breakfast and a quick, unsatisfying lunch, she needed a good, hearty dinner to give her strength for whatever scheme she concocted tonight. If she refused to help with making camp, Cal just might take it out of her rations.
    But that wasn’t entirely fair, she told herself. Despite all he’d done to her, he wasn’t cruel—only pigheaded and determined to carry her off for some idiotic reason. Eyeing him as she stooped for another twig, she studied his lanky frame, the deep muscles of his chest and shoulders, the unruly mop of chestnut hair that fell into his eyes as he lifted the saddles from the horses. He was the picture of tall, cool efficiency, she decided, wishing he were as muddleheaded as Zeke and Ray. He was quick yet gentle with the horses, she noted, watching as he stroked the muzzle of his bay, Rascal.
    What did he want from Wyatt? Why had he spoiled their wedding and dragged her off this way? The questions plagued her all through the time she gathered the twigs and made preparations for their supper. But until Cal let slip a bit more information, she knew she would have no answers.
    It was a delicious supper. Cal shot a rabbit and roasted it on a spit, and with it they had canned beans and hardtack and coffee. She and Cal didn’t speak at all during the meal, and that suited her just fine. She was thinking, thinking of how she would escape.
    And by the time she licked the last bit of rabbit meat from her fingers and drained the final drops of coffee from her tin cup, she had a plan.
    She wouldn’t fall asleep tonight; she’d only pretend to sleep. She’d wait until Cal dropped off, and then she’d put one of the saddles over her shoulder, make her way to the horses, and take the mare she’d ridden today, Sunflower, who knew her and, she hoped, wouldn’t whicker or snort or some such thing. It would be necessary to lead Sunflower off a ways as quietly as could be before saddling up and mounting, but she would do it.
    And then she’d be off.
    Melora knew that they’d been headed steadily north and east, so she’d ride back just the opposite. It might take a few days without food and water, but if she were lucky she’d hit a town or run into some friendly traveler who’d point her in the right direction and perhaps share some rations with her...
    It’s a stupid plan, Melora told herself frankly, seeds of fear sprouting inside her as she stared into her empty cup. She knew how easy it was to get lost, to end up dead of starvation or thirst when you set out without maps or supplies, or you could run into outlaws or Indians, you could end up with vultures picking at your bones...
    But a voice inside her told her she had to try to get away. Melora Deane could not allow herself to be meekly borne off from her home and her family like some kind of helpless lamb. She had to fight. She had to get back.
    At least she had to try.
    Sighing, she tried to think of the bright side: She was strong, she was an able rider, and she knew this land. For the rest, she’d have to rely on luck and her own wits.
    The cleanup chores were finished, and the deep violet night sky bloomed with tiny silver stars when Cal finally spoke to her, other than to tell her to scrub the plates in the stream and repack the cantina.
    “Time to turn in. We’ll be making an early start tomorrow. Sunup.”
    I’ll be starting out earlier than that, Melora thought, but she only nodded to him and watched from beneath her eyelashes as he threw down his bedroll not far from the fire.