One True Love by Lori Copeland

lie to accomplish her purpose. She just didn’t intend to say how far outside the camp.
    Mike nodded, waving her on.
    Kneeing the horse, she set the animal into an easy gallop through the gate opening. Her heart kept rhythm with the pounding hooves, feeling lighter than she’d felt in months. The brisk predawn air loosened her hair, and tendrils whipped her face. She’d forgotten how freedom felt, how it felt to be one with the animal. Urgency filled her now. She had to reach the wagons before Redlin, and state her case. She’d be polite but resolved. Those wagons must allow the Redlin party to cross the river and reach the fort before their party followed.
    She galloped the mare to within a short distance of the intruders and reined up. The pain from her ankle was more than she had expected, but it was secondary to the urgency of her mission. Nothing stirred. She glanced at the sky, dark with gathering rain clouds. Drat the weather. The last thing they needed was more rain.
    Her gaze scanned the quietness. Nobody was up. Perhaps that meant they planned to stay in camp today. Her spirits rose. There wouldn’t be a confrontation; the Redlin party would be pulling out early and these folks would still be abed. But—and this thought elated her more than the party’s laziness—she’d beat Josh at his game.
    Wheeling the horse, she came face to face with her adversary. A grim-faced Frank Richardson sat beside Redlin. Both men looked anything but happy to see her.
    Looking away, the wagon master apparently reined his anger before he turned back. “Miss Wilson.”
    She nodded. “Mr. Redlin.”
    â€œI see you’re up and about early this morning.”
    She braced for the explosion that oddly enough failed to come.
    Inclining his head toward the four wagons, he asked, “Is anybody home?”
    â€œI’m not sure.” Copper turned to trace the men’s eyes. “I assume they’re all still sleeping.”
    Her mare snuffed, shaking its mane.
    Strained silence settled over the three riders. Finally Josh kneed his horse forward, and Richardson and Copper fell in behind. As they approached the camp, Josh called out, “Friend!”
    A man’s voice came back. “Over here!”
    The animals rounded the lead wagon, and Copper spotted a well-dressed gentleman standing in front of the fire holding a cup of coffee. The bone china cup and saucer caught her attention: flow blue pattern, and exquisite.
    The man frowned, curiosity etched in his aristocratic features. “May I help you?”
    Copper eased forward in the saddle, ready to argue her case, but Josh’s strident glance rendered her speechless.
    â€œName’s Redlin. I’m head of the party in front of you.”
    â€œOh yes.” The man extended a hand. “Reginald Newsome, from Shreveport. What can I do for you?”
    â€œNoticed you folks have been following us pretty close for the past few days.”
    â€œFollowing you?” The man shook his head and sipped from his cup. “I believe this is a public road. One does occasionally have to follow other wagons if they’re headed in the same direction.”
    Josh remained pleasant. “You’re right, but I thought you might like to join up with us. We’d be glad to have the extra hands.”
    Join up? Copper seethed. She knew he’d do something like this. Join up indeed! They needed to drop back. Way back.
    â€œNo, there’s only the two wagons. We’re doing fine.”
    Copper’s eyes focused on four wagons.
    â€œTwo?” Josh’s gaze followed hers. “One of us can’t count.”
    â€œOnly two containing my family and myself. The other two contain supplies.” He bent closer, whispering. “I have a young daughter. She requires more—er—room, shall we say? The remaining two wagons hold her clothing and frivolities. You know women.”
    A black woman