swallowed her exasperation. Couldn’t Polly ever be happy for someone without making it into something about herself? “Of course you will,” she said in a bracing tone. “Why, you and Anson had a good time at the wedding, didn’t you?”
The other girl’s face fell. “I thought we were, especially when he caught the garter... But then he went right back to his horse talk with those boys, as if I wasn’t even there, and when it came time to leave, he said nothing about seeing me again. Oh, Faith, I’m truly going to be a spinster.”
Faith smothered a sigh. The other girl certainly would be an old maid if she didn’t abandon her poor-little-me air. “Oh, you never know. Anson may surprise you yet,” she said, although she had little belief Prissy’s cousin would ever spare a thought for Polly again.
Then she had an idea that might give Polly hope for a time, yet might also drive her father’s potential successor away. Her father hadn’t exactly said when Yancey Merriwell was coming, but he’d implied the man was single because he would be rooming at their house. She could tell Polly about Merriwell, giving her advance news of a possible bachelor candidate so that Polly could claim first dibs if she wanted to. And though she couldn’t claim knowledge of the man’s looks or manner, the news might intrigue Polly enough to cause her to rush toward the newcomer as soon as he set foot in Simpson Creek—which might make Merriwell flee the town on the next stage. Or could the Georgian find Polly Shackleford enchanting?
“You’re looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, Faith,” Polly said. “What are you thinking of?”
One look at her curious face and Faith knew she couldn’t go through with it. A moral person didn’t scheme that way, not when it might cause Polly yet more disappointment and her father more worry about the future.
“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about something Papa said,” Faith said. It was partly true at least. Even if she didn’t tip her off about Merriwell, when Polly discovered the new bachelor in town, Faith’s goal might be accomplished anyway. If Polly annoyed Merriwell so much that he left, Faith might have a chance to convince her father of her value as an assistant. Of course, she’d have to secure Louisa’s help with writing copy that made sense and was spelled and punctuated correctly, but surely in time she would pick up the knack of it!
* * *
What had he heard? It sounded like a smothered groan. But surely he was the only human out here. Gil laid his Bible in the grass, stood and looked around, but saw no one. There was no more sound, not even the rustling of grass. Even the birds he’d heard calling from nearby hushed.
Had it been the cry of a wounded animal?
“Who’s there? Are you hurt?”
Silence. But now it felt like a listening silence, as if he was not alone. As if whoever or whatever had made the sound was determined not to make that mistake again. Or was his mind playing tricks on him?
Then his horse, which had been grazing a few feet away, lifted his head, ears pricked and nickered—
—and was answered by the whinny of another horse.
Gil might have believed the other horse was wild if he hadn’t been so sure he’d heard a human groan first. Was it possible the other person was no longer able to make a sound—perhaps because he had passed out? Because he was dying?
Could it be the trick of an outlaw, luring him into a trap? Lord, please protect me, he prayed as he moved cautiously through the brush. He had to take the chance. How could he live with himself if someone needed help, and he was the only one available but didn’t provide it?
He moved around the base of the rock outcropping, dodging clumps of prickly pear and juniper, his ears straining for any sound.
And then he spotted the brown-and-white pinto, more of a pony than a horse, standing in front of a cedar brake. Its head was raised and nostrils flared as it watched
The other girl’s face fell. “I thought we were, especially when he caught the garter... But then he went right back to his horse talk with those boys, as if I wasn’t even there, and when it came time to leave, he said nothing about seeing me again. Oh, Faith, I’m truly going to be a spinster.”
Faith smothered a sigh. The other girl certainly would be an old maid if she didn’t abandon her poor-little-me air. “Oh, you never know. Anson may surprise you yet,” she said, although she had little belief Prissy’s cousin would ever spare a thought for Polly again.
Then she had an idea that might give Polly hope for a time, yet might also drive her father’s potential successor away. Her father hadn’t exactly said when Yancey Merriwell was coming, but he’d implied the man was single because he would be rooming at their house. She could tell Polly about Merriwell, giving her advance news of a possible bachelor candidate so that Polly could claim first dibs if she wanted to. And though she couldn’t claim knowledge of the man’s looks or manner, the news might intrigue Polly enough to cause her to rush toward the newcomer as soon as he set foot in Simpson Creek—which might make Merriwell flee the town on the next stage. Or could the Georgian find Polly Shackleford enchanting?
“You’re looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, Faith,” Polly said. “What are you thinking of?”
One look at her curious face and Faith knew she couldn’t go through with it. A moral person didn’t scheme that way, not when it might cause Polly yet more disappointment and her father more worry about the future.
“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about something Papa said,” Faith said. It was partly true at least. Even if she didn’t tip her off about Merriwell, when Polly discovered the new bachelor in town, Faith’s goal might be accomplished anyway. If Polly annoyed Merriwell so much that he left, Faith might have a chance to convince her father of her value as an assistant. Of course, she’d have to secure Louisa’s help with writing copy that made sense and was spelled and punctuated correctly, but surely in time she would pick up the knack of it!
* * *
What had he heard? It sounded like a smothered groan. But surely he was the only human out here. Gil laid his Bible in the grass, stood and looked around, but saw no one. There was no more sound, not even the rustling of grass. Even the birds he’d heard calling from nearby hushed.
Had it been the cry of a wounded animal?
“Who’s there? Are you hurt?”
Silence. But now it felt like a listening silence, as if he was not alone. As if whoever or whatever had made the sound was determined not to make that mistake again. Or was his mind playing tricks on him?
Then his horse, which had been grazing a few feet away, lifted his head, ears pricked and nickered—
—and was answered by the whinny of another horse.
Gil might have believed the other horse was wild if he hadn’t been so sure he’d heard a human groan first. Was it possible the other person was no longer able to make a sound—perhaps because he had passed out? Because he was dying?
Could it be the trick of an outlaw, luring him into a trap? Lord, please protect me, he prayed as he moved cautiously through the brush. He had to take the chance. How could he live with himself if someone needed help, and he was the only one available but didn’t provide it?
He moved around the base of the rock outcropping, dodging clumps of prickly pear and juniper, his ears straining for any sound.
And then he spotted the brown-and-white pinto, more of a pony than a horse, standing in front of a cedar brake. Its head was raised and nostrils flared as it watched
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