Dorothy Garlock Read Online Free PDF Page B

fer his bother. But I’d a seen to the gal anyways, she’s gen-u-ine.”
    The two men were talking about her as if she wasn’t there. Neither had given her as much as a second glance. She stood silently watching them, the pistol hanging from the hand at her side.
    Jeff reached down and righted a chair that had been upset during the brief struggle. “How long have you been here, Zan?”
    “Two, three year, off and on, come pie time.” Zan’s eyes were brighter, happier than Annie Lash had seen them before. “Do ya recollect that thar widder woman on the Trace what made apple pie?”
    “I remember several widows on the Trace that had an eye on you in those days,” Jeff teased. “You always managed to find one that could cook a good pie.”
    “How’s thin’s on the Trace, boy?” There was a certain amount of wistfulness in Zan’s tone.
    “Changed, Zan. It’s a solid nest of cutthroats and robbers. Not like five years back when all we had to worry about was Indians. Now roving bands of thieves have almost taken it over.”
    Zan shook his head sadly. “People is worser than varmits. They’s crowded in clear to the mighty river, now they’s crossin’ ’n spreading their ruin.”
    “It’s something that can’t be stopped, Zan. The country is growing; people are spreading out. Folks like you and me are going to have to find us a spot, hole up, and make the best of it.”
    Annie Lash moved toward the door. The wind threatened the light, and the small hoard of oil was finally going to peter out. The men didn’t seem to notice the flickering light, or even remember that she was in the room. She placed the pistol on the table when she passed it and grabbed the straw broom. Mud and water littered the floor, and as she swept, her irritation grew. Not an hour ago she had been sitting quietly, waiting for her candy to cool. Then, all of a sudden, her house was full of muddy feet. Not a man had stopped on the step to scrape the mud from his boots. Well . . . maybe one man. She hadn’t noticed the mud after Jefferson Merrick came in.
    She looked out the door into the black night. The rain had stopped and she could see a few stars. The campground would be a sea of mud, and she pitied the women who had to keep the wagons clean. Cleanliness was a mania with Annie Lash. She couldn’t abide dirt on her person or in her house.
    Behind her the lamplight flickered and died, but the soft glow from a candle Jeff lit from the glowing embers of the fire pushed back the darkness. Annie Lash closed the door before the draft created by the door and the chimney was too much for the small flame. When she turned, both men were looking at her.
    “Would you rather discuss my proposition with Zan alone?” Jeff asked, looking full into her eyes.
    She hesitated a moment before she answered. “No. You may as well know when you leave here if I’m going with you or not. Your being here won’t make any difference in what Zan advises me to do.”
    “You know him well.” He gave her a faint smile and his eyes darted to Zan.
    “Yes. Perhaps not as long as you have, but just as well. Shall we sit down?”
    Jeff gestured toward the rocking chair and remained standing until she was seated. Annie Lash noticed the courtesy and her curiosity about this man grew.
    “Do you want me to put the words to Zan, or would you rather do it?”
    Zan hung his hat on the peg and looked at the mud that clung to his moccasins. “I ne’er thout ’bout the mess I was a draggin’ in, gal.”
    “It’s all right, Zan. Sit down and listen to what Mr. Merrick has to say, then tell me if I should consider his offer.”
    “Do you remember my brother, Jason Pickett, Zan?” The old man nodded, and Jeff turned his eyes on Annie Lash. “Jason and I had the same mother, but different fathers.”
    “If’n I recollect, Jason was short on brains ’n long on temper,” Zan said dryly.
    “Six years ago I started a place up on the Missouri. I knew the minute I set