Page 10 of Wagon Train Honor
“More flowers?” Eagerness rounded her words.
“Would you like to see orchids?”
“Really? Here?”
He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “Come with me.”
Her hand was small and cool and fit perfectly in his much larger palm, triggering a protectiveness he hadn’t felt since—well, in a long time.
Keeping his strides purposely long so she clung to his hand as he pulled her along, he guided them to a spruce forest. She scanned the tree trunks they passed. He grinned widely. He sure had a surprise for her.
“See. There are some.”
Her gaze came to his. He nodded toward the ground.
She gasped and knelt. “I always thought orchids grew on trees. Lived off them.”
“Someone said these live off decomposing plant matter in the soil.” He wasn’t sure she heard him as she touched the fragile blossoms. “I have to draw these.” Her sketchbook was opened, and she focused on the task.
He knew better than to hover, but he lounged against a tree where he could watch. Mesmerized by the pace with which the flower appeared on the page.
She sat back and cranked her head from side to side. “So beautiful.”
Of course, she meant the flowers, but they weren’t the only beautiful thing in the area. He tried to imagine her fiery reaction if he said so, and she understood he meant her.
“Are there more, do you suppose?”
“The man who told me about them said he’d discovered a dozen different ones.”
Rushing to her feet, she faced him. “Who is this man? Can I talk to him?”
“’Fraid not. He was a scientist fellow who was here for a bit and then gone again.”
“Oh.”
Her disappointment shafted through him, though he was at a loss to understand why. “I can show you more of them, though.”
“Oh. Yes, please.” Her fingers insistent, she caught his arm, urging him onward.
He didn’t mind in the least. But it only took three steps for him to discover that she meant to examine every leaf, every tree trunk, every bush, and every blade growing from the ground. Not only examine but draw. As she drew, he watched. And admired.
The shadows lengthened.
“Miss Woods—hey, I just thought how your name fit you. Here you are lost in the woods.”
“We’re lost?” Wide eyes regarded him.
“Not lost in that sense. Lost in your work, I mean.”
“By the way, my name is Ruby.”
“Nice name.”
“My ma thought so.”
“I’m Robert.”
One corner of her mouth tipped up. “Nice name.”
