Free Lorraine Heath by Parting Gifts Page A

way back so you don’t have to endure my company for the day.”
    “You’re going to sit out here for five hours?”
    She shrugged lightly as though his concern was of little consequence. “There is plenty of shade. I ate a hearty breakfast. I should be fine.”
    His eyes narrowed. “I know the truth. It’s my company you don’t want to have to put up with.”
    “I have decided there isn’t enough coffee in the entire world to improve your disposition.”
    “I don’t like to be manipulated, and Charles did just that this morning.”
    “So you’re taking it out on me?” “I’m not taking it out on you.”
    “What do you call it when you’d rather stare at the back end of a horse than talk to me?”
    His gaze went forward, and his expression darkened. “Hell.”
    She wasn’t certain if her words or something he’d spotted on the back end of the horses had so aggravated him. She looked toward the road, realizing it was neither. Three-fourths of a tree, charred where lightning had severed it from the trunk, blocked the road. The horses halted. Jesse vaulted over the side of the wagon and stalked toward the tree, jerked his hat off his head, and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
    “I suppose we could just turn around and go home,” she offered.
    “Hell no! We need supplies! You need something from town!”
    Scrambling down from the wagon, she walked to where he stood. “I don’t need anything from town.”
    He plopped his hat back on his head and walked around the tree, studying it from all angles. “It’s going to have to be moved eventually. Might as well do it now. You go stand over there beneath that tree.”
    “Are you hoping there’s a loose branch somewhere that might fall on my head?”
    He squatted. “Won’t happen. Not with the luck I’ve been having.”
    Forcefully, she kicked the tree, rustling the branches. Jerking back, he landed on his backside. She smiled triumphantly as he scowled at her.
    “It’s not so funny to be startled into making a fool of yourself, is it?” she remarked.
    “Get in the shade before the sun burns your nose.” He got to his feet and walked toward the wagon.
    She scurried over and blocked his path. “You didn’t answer my question.”
    Towering over her, he glowered at her. She tilted her head back, refusing to be cowed. He tugged his shirt out of his pants and shoved the buttons through the holes. “Get in the shade.”
    “And if I don’t?”
    Shaking his head, he walked away, took off his shirt, and tossed it onto the seat of the wagon. He reached into the back of the wagon, hefted out a rope, and draped it over his shoulders.
    Reluctantly, Maddie moved into the shade and watched him work. In the sunlight, she could see what she’d been unable to see in the gloom of the kitchen. The back she had so admired that morning carried a thin diagonal scar across it that began at the tip of one shoulder and raced toward his hip, disappearing somewhere beneath the waist of his pants. It was an ancient scar, blending in with the coloring of his body.
    “How did you come by that scar on your back?” she asked. “War.”
    She moved out of the shade. “The War Between the States?”
    He tied the rope to the harness. “That’s the one.”
    “You’re a lot older than I thought.”
    He stopped working and stared at her. “How old did you think I was?”
    “Thirty-three, thirty-four.”
    He nodded. “Thirty-four.”
    “You would have been a boy during the war.”
    He led the horses to the other side of the tree. “Old enough to beat a drum for the Union when it started, old enough to tote a rifle when it ended.”
    “But Texas stood with the Confederacy.”
    He studied her a moment. “You don’t look old enough to know what slavery looked like. I couldn’t defend it.” He anchored the rope to the charred trunk and guided the horses toward the side of the road, the fallen tree trailing easily behind. He loosened the rope, pulled it out,