Читать книгу A Fortune for the Outlaw's Daughter - Lauri Robinson - Страница 10

Chapter Two

To Maddie it seemed only hours had passed, not days, when a voice on the other side of the door said they were heading into port. At first she’d been cautious, nervous even, but Trig DuMont—Captain Trig—reminded her so much of Smitty, her reservations had disappeared. He was always grinning, and carefree and happy. So was his nephew Cole—although she continued to call him Lucky, still hoping it would rub off on her.

Both Lucky and his uncle acted as if the sun never set, that the world was a glorious place, and all they had to do was flash one of those eye-twinkling smiles and all their dreams would come true. Though comfortable talking with either of them, she still didn’t trust men, any of them, and kept to herself most of the trip. The boat was full of other men and she’d readily agreed when Lucky had suggested it would be best if she stayed inside as much as possible. Which wasn’t hard.

The cabin was remarkable. Not only did it have a bed—she’d only slept on one of those a few times in her life—but it was full of books and newspapers and magazines—all about gold mining. Due to her limited abilities, reading them had been difficult at first, but the more she kept at it, the easier it became and she found herself wishing they’d never arrive in Seattle. Or better yet, sail right past it. Her luck had shifted—she could feel it deep inside—and she knew what she had to do.

The books she’d read filled her with additional excitement. Alaska was full of gold. There were ways to get it out of the ground, too. Frozen or not, it wasn’t so different from what she already knew in a lot of ways. Smitty had taught her all he knew about mining.

Settling the last book back to its rightful place, just as she’d done with all the other ones, Maddie swallowed, forcing her heart to slide back down her throat to where it belonged.

Alaska. That was where gold was, and she wanted gold; therefore, Alaska was now her destination. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder every step, either. Mad Dog would never follow her all the way to Alaska.

Freedom and gold. Her luck had definitely changed.

Captain Trig smiled brightly as she opened the door. Much shorter than his nephew, the captain wasn’t much taller than she. The top of his head was completely hairless and a ruddy red from being exposed all the time, and he had a jagged scar that wrapped around one ear. Yet, like Lucky, his glistening brown eyes made him appear less dangerous than a woeful pup looking for a home. Though her luck had changed, Maddie continued to tell herself she still had to be cautious. Wolves were once pups.

“We’re pulling into Seattle,” Captain Trig said.

Maddie stepped out of the cabin.

“Hope the trip wasn’t too rough for you.”

“Not at all,” she answered, pulling her eyes off the gray skies. Seattle didn’t appear any more excited to see her than she was to see it. “I could sail for days yet. Months even.”

Trig’s laugh was low and choppy, but not frightening. Pleasant in its own right. “It would get old to you long before months were up, girlie.” He gestured toward the busy shoreline. “We’ll dock here. No need for a rowboat this time.”

“I didn’t mind the rowboat, either.”

He laughed again. “Trying to finagle yourself a job?”

Maddie glanced his way.

His eyes sparkled, even as he said, “A ship’s no place for the likes of you, darling.” Taking her elbow as they walked, he continued, “There’s a good woman here in Seattle. She’ll provide you with the training to become a nursemaid or servant girl and find you a good family to work for. You’ll never have to worry about men like Ridge again. Just follow her instructions.”

Maddie bit her lips together. He was right in saying she wouldn’t have to worry about Mad Dog ever again, but she’d never be a servant—she’d have servants. Now wasn’t the time to share that, so she asked, “For free?” Her father had never figured it out, but she had. Nothing in life is free.

“The cost is covered,” Trig answered. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Worry wasn’t what she felt. There wasn’t a word, not one she knew, to describe how her stomach soured at the thought of being beholden to anyone. She’d given Hester the gun Smitty had given her as payment for getting her out of town. A tiny derringer not worth much, but next to her nugget, it was all she’d had. She’d repay Trig, too, and Lucky, for their parts. The Mary Jane was sailing to Alaska when leaving Seattle, and Maddie would be on her. This was her chance and she wouldn’t give it up. Once she found her gold, she’d clear her debts and finally be in complete control of her life.

“When are you sailing out?” she asked. “In case I want to say goodbye?”

Trig glanced around at the men doing things with ropes and riggings and such. When his gaze settled on one man, her heart fluttered oddly in her chest. She realized then it was Lucky.

“To me or my nephew?” Trig asked.

She’d barely spoken with Lucky, yet she did think a lot about him. Mainly because she was so preoccupied with all his books. He was her route to the gold, and she had to follow it, yet no one could know that. Not Trig, and not Lucky. Shaking her head, she answered, “You of course. I owe you for rescuing me.”

“Think nothing of it, honey. Besides, Lucky rescued you. My ship just carried you north.”

“Well,” she said, contemplating the truth of that. An answer settled and she grinned. “You told him to.”

Trig laughed again. “We’ll be sailing out in three days.”

Maddie started to count the hours at that very moment. When the time came, it was Trig who walked her down the steep slope created by the drawbridge-type door that was lowered from one side of the boat. He talked amicably about a Mrs. Smother as they walked along the dock then up the stone-lined shore.

Four blocks from the water—she counted and noted distinct landmarks to find her way back—he led her up a set of steps on a large brick building that, despite the colorful flowers lining the walkway, had every shutter shut as if keeping everything outside out and everything inside in.

Mrs. Smother was summoned by the older woman who answered Trig’s knock, and soon Maddie was ushered up a set of stairs by the same white-haired lady who’d opened the door while Mrs. Smother, a middle-aged woman with brown hair and faded blue eyes, invited Captain Trig to tea. Maddie had to grin at the thought of the captain drinking tea, but followed the other woman, who introduced herself as Martha.

Maddie was biding her time of course, she couldn’t just run away, not until the Mary Jane was about to set sail. Martha led her into an extraordinary room. There was a tub for bathing, a commode for, well, necessity and hooks on the wall holding several garments.

“There’s hot and cold water,” Martha explained. “You can wear anything that fits and leave your dirty clothes in that basket.”

A thousand questions danced in Maddie’s head, but she didn’t want to sound or look ignorant, so she simply nodded.

“Do you need any help?”

“No,” she answered, “thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Years ago her father had left her to live with one of his lovers—that was what he’d called Roseanne—and there had been a room just for bathing there, though not as elaborate as this. Maddie had learned a lot about life that winter, and men and women, and had been glad when Bass had returned. “Make sure you scrub well,” Martha said. “It looks as if it’s been a while since you’ve bathed.”

Considering there hadn’t been a creek handy for several days, it had been a while, but the other woman’s tone struck a chord that went beyond that. Maddie held her temper in check and waited until Martha opened the door before suggesting, “I would like to say goodbye to Captain Trig before he leaves.”

“It would be best if you didn’t,” Martha answered, not unkind, but stern.

Maddie bit her lips together and smiled. Three days could prove impossible here. A person knew when they weren’t wanted, especially one that hadn’t been wanted since the day she’d been born. It was just as well; she didn’t want to be here, either.

After her bath, which she figured out just fine, and dressed in a pale blue dress that had fit better than the others—at least she could button the front of this one—Maddie met with Mrs. Smother. She listened and nodded, even answered once in a while, although Maddie had no plans on heeding the “strict set of rules that must be followed at all times.” Not stupid, she remained amicable during the evening meal and completed all of the chores requested of her. Then she waited until the house was quiet before sneaking down the stairs and out the door in Mrs. Smother’s parlor. The other two doors were guarded. Bass had taught her a few things that had turned out to be useful, like stealth.

A thorough exploration of the docks, which took up most of the night, didn’t provide a place to stay until the Mary Jane sailed, and a fact occurred to Maddie. Mrs. Smother was sure to contact Captain Trig if she came up missing prior to him leaving port, and he might have the ship searched. As she backtracked and sneaked back into Mrs. Smother’s big brick house Maddie pondered how one might possibly board the Mary Jane moments before it sailed. Once again, a few of Bass’s escapades came to mind.

* * *

Cole cursed as he attempted to roll the wooden barrel up the ramp. The contents inside refused to shift, making the barrel roll back toward him rather than flipping over and rolling up the ramp. Too big around to heft onto his shoulder, he squatted and put all his strength into a hefty shove. It rolled, and Cole hurried upward pushing continuously to keep the momentum going. When it finally topped the ramp, he was breathing hard and calling Robbie a few choice words. Cole had no idea what might be in the barrel, but the scratchy writing, as if someone had used the burned end of stick, saying “the Mary Jane” told him Robbie had agreed to ship whatever the barrel contained.

After it quit rocking, he flipped the barrel on end. The faint morning light showed one more set of scratchy writing. “This side up.” After rolling it up the hill, flipping the barrel onto its other end was simple. He toppled it end for end and then paused to swipe the sweat from his brow as he glanced around, having sworn he’d heard a muffled moan.

“Cole!” Robbie waved from the dock. “Come help with this luggage, would you?”

Glad to leave the barrel where it sat, Cole headed back down the gangplank. Robbie could take the barrel below, into the cargo hull; that would be easy as the ramp was downhill. Arriving at his brother’s side, Cole’s jaw tightened at all the tapestry bags and traveling trunks. Disgusted with the “cargo” Robbie had lined up, Cole shook his head. “We aren’t a passenger ship.”

“We’ve already gone over that. Alaska isn’t yours. People can move there if they want to.” Robbie grinned. “Especially paying the price those ladies agreed to pay.”

Letting his snort tell his brother exactly what he thought of hauling a dozen dance-hall girls to Alaska, Cole grabbed a trunk and headed back up the ramp.

Robbie, with a couple of carpetbags in each hand bounded up beside him. “Could make for an interesting trip.”

Scowling, Cole answered, “Interesting isn’t the word I was thinking. Don’t you remember anything from family picnics? When you get more than three women in a room, there’s bound to be a fight. A dozen of them will be dangerous. Ugly, too.”

“Not one of those gals is ugly,” Robbie argued. “Trust me, big brother.”

Cole didn’t bother with an answer; instead, he declared, “We sail within an hour. If your ladies aren’t here, we aren’t waiting.”

“They’ll be here,” Robbie assured. “They’ll be here.”

Unfortunately, Robbie was right. The women arrived before the mounting stack of luggage had been carried into the hull. The area had been transformed by all sorts of furniture the ladies were paying to have transported. Dressed in outfits and covered in face paint that left their profession in no doubt, the women marched aboard, waving and blowing kisses at the few mates it took to run the Mary Jane.

Mainly a cargo ship, the Mary Jane only had a few cabins—Robbie had explained that to the women, which was why a portion of the hull had been transformed to make the trip as comfortable as possible. Robbie had set that all up, too, and Cole had been a bit surprised when Uncle Trig had agreed to it.

Trig had, though. In the end, his uncle had been the one to convince Cole there was as much profit to be made off those women as any other cargo they’d haul. It wasn’t that Cole didn’t appreciate a woman now and again, he just didn’t have time for the problems that came along with them. Rachel had been a headache from the get-go. Telling him what to do, what to wear. She’d partnered up with his mother, too, trying to make sure he never took to the sea. When he’d told Rachel he wasn’t interested in gaining access to Gran’s fortune, but in finding his own, she’d run to his mother again, bawling. The two of them hounding him nonstop had been more than he could take. He’d left despite the fact Rachel and his mother were planning a wedding.

His.

Women wanted nothing more than to rule a man. That would never happen to him. He’d be in charge of his own life.

Cole set down the last trunk, and as he turned, ready to make his exit up the hull ramp, a head of coal-black hair caught his attention. His heart kicked the inside of his chest, making the air in his lungs rattle. The woman turned around to face him, grinning, and he experienced a wave of disappointment. Or perhaps relief. He’d wondered about Maddie since she’d left the boat on Uncle Trig’s arm. She’d waved and he’d tipped the brim of his hat, but had wondered how she was getting along at Mrs. Smother’s. Maddie just didn’t seem like the domestic-servant type.

He told himself he was glad this woman wasn’t her and hurried up the ramp. The black-haired woman’s profession was the exact thing he was trying to save Maddie from. In all actuality, Hester and Uncle Trig had saved her; he’d just been the runner. She’d been no problem on the trip. Stayed in the cabin, reading his books on mining, although she’d never let on to that. He hadn’t let on that he knew she’d read almost everything in his cabin, either.

Cole chuckled as he scurried across the deck to begin preparations to set sail. Maddie had certainly been different than any other girl he’d ever been around. She’d wanted less to do with men than he did women. He’d sensed that. Not only while rescuing her, but during the few times they’d conversed. They hadn’t said much to one another, usually just greetings during meal times, yet he’d noted her mind was always going, taking in the surroundings and holding on to every word Uncle Trig had said. That had mainly been about sailing or the places he’d been. Her eyes had sparkled whenever Alaska had been mentioned, and that was probably why he still thought about her. She had the fever as bad as he did.

Cole’s thoughts shifted then. It wouldn’t be long now, and he’d be finding gold. The thrill of that put a smile on his face.

The Mary Jane set sail while the sun inched its way into a clear sky turning a brighter blue with each minute that ticked by. Cole embraced the work it took maneuvering the ship out of the bay and setting their course north to Alaska.

His mind was always on his job, and his heart was right along with it. The day was perfect for sailing, and the women—he figured due to the hour of which they must have crawled from their beds—had settled into the hull as soon as they’d boarded, and with any luck, they’d sleep away most of the day.

The deckhands whispered amongst themselves, but no one made mention of the unusual cargo. To do so would have angered Trig, and no one angered the captain. Cole liked that, too, because it promised a smooth and uneventful trip.

Hopefully.

He still had his doubts.

Late that night, while taking his turn at the wheel, his doubts were confirmed. Cole pinched the bridge of his nose at the commotion coming from the hull. The ruckus had been going on for some time and he’d hoped it would stop all on its own, but evidently that wasn’t to be. Since no one else seemed willing to go see what was happening he had no choice. Glancing toward Chester, the other mate assigned to the night shift, Cole nodded toward the wheel. They were in open water, but still needed to be alert. While walking toward the hull, he also glared down the narrow hallway running between the cabins. Uncle Trig or Robbie, who should have been dealing with such rumpus, hadn’t stepped out of their doors.

He’d known they wouldn’t; it was his job to take care of anything that came about during his watch. With frustration burning his lungs, Cole started down the slope. Women and boats didn’t mix. To his way of thinking, women didn’t mix with much. They always needed something and whined until they got it. They were clinging, too, as if they couldn’t take a step without assistance. Women had their purpose, but he sure didn’t have that purpose in his life. That was why sailing fit him so well. Mining would, too.

A man who wanted freedom and peace stayed far away from women.

Cole stopped at the bottom of the ramp. Robbie’s cargo looked and acted like a pen of clucking hens. Half of them had scarves made of feathers around their shoulders, which they were flipping and flapping about, leaving an array of red, black, white and pink fluff floating in the air. He couldn’t see much beyond that, nor could he hear anything above their squawks.

Sticking a thumb and finger against the sides of his tongue, he let loose a squealing whistle.

Silence filled the hull. He could once again hear the water sloshing against the sides. Praise be. Batting aside a few feathers floating before his face, Cole attempted to release the tension from his jaw before growling, “What’s all the commotion about?”

A buxom woman with ash-colored hair streaked with red—a horrible combination—stepped forward. “Where’s Mr. DuMont?”

“You’re looking at him.”

The obvious leader of the pack slapped her hands on her hips and marched forward. As she did so, she exposed a red corset, tasked with the unenviable role of keeping everything in place.

“I mean Captain DuMont,” she retorted, stepping close enough to fill his nostrils with the scent of enough rose water to drown a rat. “I demand to speak with him this moment.”

“Demand all you want,” Cole answered. “He’s sleeping.” Lord knows how. “I’m in charge right now.”

“Well, then,” the old hen said, “I demand to know if that woman paid the same price we did to sail upon this ship.” Waving a hand toward the group, she continued, “Or if she is a stowaway as I suspect.”

Cole stopped shy of saying all the woman had paid when the leader added, “I put out a fortune to have me and my girls transported safely to Alaska and will not abide by others getting a free ride. Put her overboard immediately.”

“Overboard?” Did she think the Mary Jane was an historic pirate ship, making people walk the plank in shark-infested waters? Proof all women’s heads were filled with fantasy and fluff. Just as he’d always suspected.

An eerie sensation and the glare still coming from the woman had him leaning slightly to see around her feathers and hair. His heart dang near dropped to his feet. The rest of the brood had parted, and right there in the middle, chin up and eyeing him with a hint of haughty determination, stood the black-haired beauty he’d been thinking about since she’d walked off the ship. “Maddie?”

“Hello, Lucky.”

The way she said his nickname had his knees growing a touch weak. He locked them in place. No woman made him weak, not any part of his body.

“What are you doing down here?”

Rather than answering him, Maddie turned to the pack leader. “I told you I know the boat’s owner.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t a stowaway,” the woman snapped.

Cole had half a mind to wait it out, see how Maddie got herself out of this one, but he couldn’t do that. The buxom woman had her claws exposed and looked as if she wanted to tear someone to shreds. He’d learned what was causing the commotion, and it didn’t help his mood in the least. Grasping Maddie’s arm, he tugged her forward. “What are you doing down here?”

“I—”

Not wanting to spend any more time below deck, he interrupted, “Come on. I’ll kick Robbie out of our cabin for you.”

Her eyes grew as round as silver dollars. So did the dozen other pairs staring at him. Robbie should be the one dealing with this, not him, but leaving Maddie down here wasn’t an option, not even for a few minutes. Waking up his brother would suit Cole just fine, and he wouldn’t be gentle about it, either. He and Robbie now shared the cabin, and his brother deserved to be put out considering the cargo he’d mustered up. Spinning around, Cole pulled Maddie along beside him.

She flashed a smile over her shoulder, toward the momentarily silent brood, and though he didn’t mind the quiet, Cole warned, “Don’t get too smug there, darling. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Maddie closed her eyes briefly, just to get her insides back in order. Everything had gone remarkably well until one of the women had noticed her sneaking toward the ramp. If she hadn’t had to relieve herself—which she still did—this would not have happened.

“I know,” she answered, barely glancing toward Lucky. “But can it wait a few minutes?”

“A few minutes?” he asked, forcing her to march up the ramp.

The urge had her bladder on fire. “Yes, there’s something I need to do.”

“What? Jump overboard?”

“No.” Flustered, she admitted, “I need to use the facilities.” There was an area at the back of the boat she’d used before and assumed it was still there. At least she hoped. It had been all day and she was about to burst.

“Go,” he said, gesturing toward the back of the boat once they’d reached the top of the ramp. She didn’t take the time to thank him—couldn’t.

When she emerged from behind the little wall, Lucky was leaning against the high side of the ship a few feet away. His eyes were sparkling like the stars overhead, but the scowl on his face had her throat swelling.

Maddie had been afraid his brother would be the one to enter the hull to discover what had the women so riled up. Of the two brothers, she was glad it had been Lucky. Though she’d secretly hoped it would be Captain Trig. There was something about him that said he was trustworthy—an aspect she’d rarely sensed in a man. Lucky was that way, too—trustworthy—but she’d much rather deal with Trig. Maybe because of his age. Living with Smitty had taught her how to relate with older men—younger ones were scary.

Lucky pushed off the wall. “A few days ago, I rescued you from becoming one of those women, and now—”

“I’m not one of those women,” she insisted, instantly angered by his assumption.

“Then start explaining.”

“Explaining what?” she asked more flippant than intended.

There were no sparkles in his eyes now. “How’d you get on the ship?”

Angering him more wouldn’t get her closer to her goal. She let out a sigh and shrugged. “In a barrel.”

“A barrel?”

She nodded, and refrained from explaining how she’d sneaked out of Mrs. Smother’s house every night—after long hours of being “educated”—and searched for a way to board the boat. Last night, when that barrel had sat at the edge of the dock with the moon shining down on it, she’d been convinced Smitty had put it there. She’d stayed nearby, hiding in the shadows until morning was about to break, and then after scratching the writing on the side, rolled it next to the gangplank and climbed inside. Holding on to the lid had left splinters under her nails she still had to dig out. Once it had been rolled on board, an experience that left her head spinning for hours, she’d sneaked out and hidden below deck.

Lucky rubbed his forehead. “You were in that barrel?”

Although he made no gesture, she knew exactly what barrel he was referring to. “Yes, I was in that barrel. The one you set upside down.” She then pointed out, “It clearly said ‘this side up.’”

“You wrote that?”

“I saw it on some of the other crates and barrels.” Giving him a steady stare, she added, “I assumed you knew how to read.”

“I do know how to read, even chicken scratches.”

Catching the insult, she went with her gut reaction and stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed, and the night air seemed to carry the sound away in waves. She shot him a glare that told him just what she thought of his attitude and then turned to look out at the water. The moon was out—a huge orange ball in the middle of a twinkling sky. Its light cast a long yellow reflection into the water, almost in a straight line that ended right where she stood.

Maddie drew in a deep breath and wondered if it really was Smitty up there watching over her, showing her she was on the right path. She could almost hear the old man’s laugh, telling her it was him and that he was lighting her way. Smitty had his grumpy moments, too, therefore, young or not, Lucky’s ill temperament or his insults didn’t overly concern her.

He turned around and set both hands on the rail. Maddie didn’t look at him, but she did tell him, “I have to go to Alaska.”

“Alaska’s no place for women.”

The seriousness of his tone had her glancing his way. One of the other girls back at Mrs. Smother’s had asked about him, claimed he was handsome. She’d been young and said Lucky had rescued her the year before. Although Maddie had been focused on escaping, the other girl’s admission had caught her attention and Maddie had asked why she was still at Mrs. Smother’s place. The girl said training to become a proper servant took time, which had increased Maddie’s desire to leave. A year at Mrs. Smother’s would have turned her batty.

Right now, though, Maddie was supposing the girl had been right about Lucky. He was handsome, but she tried not to look at him because it made her cheeks grow warm. She turned her gaze back to the water. “But it’s a place for miners,” she said, “and that’s what I am. A miner.”

His silence said he didn’t believe her.

“I am,” she insisted. “I mined gold for over four years in Colorado. We didn’t hit it big, but only because our claim was paid out before Smitty bought it. We couldn’t move on, but with his guidance, I found enough to keep us going.” Determination stiffened her spine. “I’ll find it in Alaska, too, I know I will.”

“Who’s Smitty?” Lucky asked. “Your father?”

“No, he wasn’t my father.” Exposing her past was not in her plan. Yet gold was what she needed to put everything behind her, and Lucky was her way to gold. Considering that, she admitted, “I did pretend to be his daughter, though. In order to get the medicine he needed. That’s why I kept dredging gold, too.” Turning, lifting her face toward the moon that appeared even brighter now, she added thoughtfully, “Smitty and I were a team. Two people who didn’t have anyone else. We didn’t need anyone else, either.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died.” A strong and invisible power clenched her heart. She hadn’t wanted to leave before he died, but Smitty had made her. Said he didn’t want her waking up one morning and finding him dead. Therefore, he’d trekked down the mountain beside her, so weak he could barely stand, and in Cutter’s Gulch, he’d set her on the train, with boarding passes that would take her all the way to California. Inside, she knew he never made it back to their claim, the cave they’d used as a home for years, and someday, when she had the money, she’d return to Cutter’s Gulch, find his grave and place a huge headstone there, for the greatest man she’d ever known.

“Maddie?”

Blinking, she pulled her gaze off the moon and turned toward Lucky.

“I asked when Smitty died.”

She nodded, having possibly heard his question while deep in thought. “Last fall.”

“You’ve been alone since then? On your own?”

A lump filled her throat. “Being alone and on your own are two different things,” she whispered. Smitty wouldn’t want her focusing on the past instead of the future, so she tossed her head slightly, shattering dark and gloomy thoughts aside. “But now I’m on my way to Alaska.”

“Trig might have something to say about that,” Lucky said. “He laid out good money—”

“I know,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Mrs. Smother informed me the captain paid for my stay at her place, my training, even the dress I’m wearing, and I’ll repay him every cent. I promise.” Taking a step back, she lifted her chin and pulled forth all the grit and determination Smitty insisted filled her. “I don’t want to be a servant. I want to have servants, and I will someday. I swear it.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t believe her, and that made her stomach burn. Before he could speak, she declared, “I know how to find gold. I know what to look for, how to pan. I’ve built sluices and rockers, and I—”

“But are you prepared to live in a tent, in the wilderness, with—”

“I’ve lived in tents, and caves, and dugouts. In the wilderness and on the plains.”

“You have?”

Nothing would stop her. Not her past, and not a man. “Yes, I have. Matter of fact, I’ve never lived in a house. Not for any length of time. Never had a real bed I could call my own, either.” Standing taller, she added, “There’s nothing about Alaska that scares me.”

He cocked his head to one side and tiny sparks of light returned to his eyes as he grinned. “I believe that, Maddie, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that you should be scared. It’s a wild, untamed country.”

“There are a lot of wild and untamed places,” she said. “I know. I’ve lived in some.”

Lucky was rubbing his chin, and Maddie was sure he was about to say something else, but a shout sounded first.

“There she is!”