Page 7 of Wagon Train Honor
She would not sigh. Would not point out how hard it was to work with him bothering her.
“How many flowers have you drawn?”
Oh goodie. Now, there was to be conversation. Maybe he hadn’t gotten the point that she liked to be alone, to work in solitude and quiet. But alas, she’d made a deal with?—
No, she wouldn’t say the devil. That was way too harsh, even if it was the first saying that rushed to her mind.
She’d made a deal with an honorable, upright Mountie. One who knew Carson.
“Lots. And other plants.” Her words came out on a long-suffering sigh.
Which he didn’t seem to notice.
Long legs adjusted again as he shifted to one elbow so he watched her. “No animals?”
“No.” Her pencil left an indent, and she pulled her hand back. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes if she wanted to present these pictures to be used by—a smile began in the depths of her heart at the organization’s official name—The Society for Identification of Flora and Fauna on the Eastern Slope of the Rockies. Good thing they’d shortened it to The Society. A person’s hand could get sore penning that title.
“Why not animals?”
The constable’s question halted her mental detour. She scowled at the tip of her pencil as if it were to blame for the mistake she’d almost made. “I don’t know. I like plants.”
“Because they don’t run away?”
Now didn’t he sound all philosophical? “Maybe. Or maybe because they aren’t nosy.”
Ouch. Maybe her comment was nasty.
Laughter burst from him and rolled down the hill until trapped by the trees. Or did she mean it rolled into her heart and caught her by surprise and…
Relief?
Or was it appreciation?
But at least he wasn’t offended.
His amusement silenced, and he sat up, leaning toward her.
This flower was never going to get finished if he kept interrupting and distracting her. Only her pencil didn’t touch the paper as she tried to push the knowledge of his presence away.
“You’re the youngest in the family, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh. If you know, then why are you asking?”
“I wasn’t certain. Carson said there were three younger girls.”
“That’s right. There’s me, then Angela. She’s older by less than a year. And Irene, who is the oldest of us.” Though, there were only fourteen months between Ruby and Irene.
“I suppose being the youngest meant you were overlooked.”
Oh fine. Just fine. They were going to spend the afternoon dissecting her reasons for what she did. Couldn’t he accept that she worked better when not disturbed by a thousand questions?
“I never felt neglected, if that’s what you mean.”
When he didn’t respond, she looked up into eyes the color of the sky just before the sun tossed its rays upward. A dark blue-gray. Why did he study her so intently? She didn’t like it and shifted around until her back was to him.
But now she couldn’t tell what he was doing or where he was looking, so she readjusted her position until he was visible in her peripheral vision. Again, with renewed determination, she focused on the flower, the petal, the page, the almost-finished drawing. One day, she’d like to depict the flowers in color. But she didn’t have room to bring paints, and the colored pencils she’d found were inadequate. When she went to Banff to join The Society’s work, she’d paint in color.
“Amazing. It’s so lifelike.” His breath warmed her cheek.
