Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] Read Online Free PDF Page A

your pa are sleepin’ it off on a pile of hides down by the river. But that’n,” he jerked his head toward the spot where he’d left Linc, “he’s goin’ to be madder than a skunk with a twisted tail.” He took a length of rawhide from under his shirt and started tying it to the wagon flap.
    “I reckon he will. It was decent of you not to tell on Israel. They’d kill him. If they didn’t, Pa’d whip him somethin’ awful. He’s not as dumb as he lets on,” she added in the slave’s defense.
    “Get in the wagon and I’ll tie the flap down and poke the end of the strap inside. When you want out in the morning, pull the strap and the knot will come untied.”
    Berry skirted the wet spot in the dirt and picked up the chamber pot. She couldn’t suppress another bout of giggles. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips when she looked at Rachel’s solemn face. “I know I’m makin’ a fool of myself laughin’. . . but he looked so . . . funny!”
    As she continued to laugh, she was such a pleasure to look at—all warm, sparkling, and pretty beyond belief. With an effort, Simon pulled his attention back to the tarp. He slit the canvas with a long, thin-bladed knife and laced it with the rawhide. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the blond woman reach for the chamber pot and whisk it out of sight. He almost chuckled. White women had notions that never occurred to Indian women.
    Berry stepped up on the box to crawl over the tailgate and back into the wagon. Simon put his hands on her waist and lifted her lightly. She didn’t protest, and he had a sudden notion to enfold her warmth in his arms and kiss her. Sternly he put such thoughts from his mind. She was soft and warm and so small it seemed he could snap her in two. But he knew she was tougher than she looked and that she had spunk. She’ll need it, he thought with a fierce spurt of anger at her pa. He wondered if the man knew there were a hundred men on the river who would kill to get their hands on these women.
    “Thank you, Mister . . . ?”
    “Witcher. Simon Witcher.”
    “Do you live in Saint Louis? Will we see you again?” Berry asked boldly.
    “More’n likely.” Simon hesitated before he pulled down the flap. “I got a place up on the Missouri.”
    “That’s a long way.”
    “It’s no piece at all in this country. Where’s your pa’s land?”
    “Across the river. He don’t tell us much.”
    There was a small silence while he looked at the women and they at him. “I’ll be at the ferry,” he said, and let the flap drop between them. “Don’t forget about pullin’ the strap.” He poked the end of the rawhide inside the wagon.
    “Thanks,” Berry called softly. “And thanks for the raisins, too.”
    “My pleasure.” The masculine drawl was muffled as it came through the canvas.
    Berry stood waiting expectantly, but he said no more. She turned to look down at Rachel, who sat with her back against the trunk. The women looked at each other for a moment and then Berry sank down onto the mattress. “Well, I never! Law, he’s a strange one!”
    “We don’t have to worry about Asa tonight,” Rachel said with relief.
    “He’s gonna be madder than a rained-on hen in the morning.”
    “I hope he’s too sick to pay us no never mind.” Her eyes twinkled. She showed a side to Berry that she never allowed to surface with anyone else. She loved the dark-haired girl. There had been no love in her life until Asa took her home to the thin, sad-eyed little girl. They had been a comfort to each other through the years. Berry had been all that made Rachel’s life worth living.
    “Rachel.” Berry hesitated. “I never asked you, but somehow I knew that Pa didn’t wed you. Did he?”
    Rachel looked at her steadily and slowly shook her head. “He bought me for a horse and a hundred pounds of shot. It was either go with him or stay at the tavern and be a whore.”
    “But . . . why’d you stay with us after you growed up? He was mean to