Inheriting A Bride. Lauri Robinson

they must certainly have a wardrobe full of costumes, and Nevadaville was only five miles from Black Hawk, by train.

      “Yes, why?” he answered, sounding skeptical, almost angry.

      “Boston has several wonderful opera houses, and I’m curious what one in the wilds of Colorado would look like.” That sounded plausible, didn’t it? Surely Boston had an opera house. Chicago did, and she truly enjoyed watching the plays. If that silly horse she’d rented hadn’t run off, she wouldn’t be worrying whether Boston had opera houses or not. She’d be finding out exactly who Sam Edwards was.

      The best laid plans of mice and men, she quoted silently, pressing a hand to her temple. Once she knew the truth, she could decide what to do. The only thing that made sense was that Grandpa had another family. One not even Grandma knew about. It was unfathomable, yet why else would Gramps have included Sam in the will, and at the same amount as her? Clay Hoffman seemed as protective over Sam’s identity as Gramps’s solicitor, Mr. Watson.

      It appeared no one wanted Kit to know the truth.

      “So, Miss—”

      Interrupting Clay, not done contemplating her thoughts, she leaned forward and whispered, “You don’t think there’s a bear or mountain lion following us, do you?”

       Chapter Two

      His back stiffened again and Kit swore she saw his neck quiver slightly.

      “No, I don’t believe there are any bears or mountain lions following us. They are few and far between in this area.”

      Gramps had never mentioned the animals, so she figured they weren’t an issue, yet he hadn’t mentioned Sam, either. “I sure do wish we’d found my amulet,” she whispered.

      “I’m sure the chief will sell you another.”

      She puffed out her cheeks, really wishing for a moment of quiet. “Oh, do you think so?” She’d come up with bears and mountain lions off the top of her head. A woman from Boston would be afraid of such things and believe an amulet from a chief would save her—and it had proved useful. Once in Black Hawk she’d ask the old Indian if he had another one. It had cost only a package of chewing gum. He’d been the one to tell her if she put a dead fish in it no one would come close to her, and had even told her where to find the fish.

      “Yes,” Clay answered.

      Thankfully, he let the conversation slip then. The scenery was quite beautiful, all lush and green, just as Gramps had explained. Her fingernails dug into the thick leather at the back of the saddle and a shiver skirted up her spine. Kit held her breath, refusing to remember how frightful the train ride into Black Hawk had been.

      Clay glanced over his shoulder, and she tried, but knew the smile on her face wobbled. He stared harder and she averted her gaze, glancing at the surroundings.

      “You doing all right back there?”

      “Um, yes,” she mumbled.

      “You sure?” Those blue eyes were frowning, and he shifted as if trying to get a better look at her. His movements had her repositioning and glancing around. The mountains weren’t as intimidating while on horseback. Zigzagging around the Rockies in that train had instilled a fear inside her like she’d never known. Grandma Katie would have been appalled to hear her talk so, but Kit had to tell the train agent how offensive the ride had been. Then again, Grandma would be upset that she’d left the house empty and embarked on this journey at all. Maybe it was a family trait—fear of train rides—for it appeared Sam didn’t like trains, either, considering he’d taken the trail to Nevadaville. That was a nice thought, knowing she and Sam already had something in common.

      “You sure?” Clay Hoffman repeated.

      “Yes,” she answered. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

      “The mountains make you nervous?” he asked, looking straight ahead, but nonetheless drawing her full attention.

      Kit squared her shoulders. “No.”

      “You aren’t a very good liar, Miss Ackerman.”

      She drew in a determined breath. Agreeing with Clayton Hoffman was not something she’d do, no matter how accurate he might be.

      Kit let silence speak for her. It was a damnable situation, as Gramps would say—this one she found herself in. Yet she’d have to put up with Clay in order to get back to Black Hawk.

      Wiggling, she repositioned her bottom on the bedroll. Her clothes were drying quickly and not overly uncomfortable, but the dampness irritated the spot on her backside that had grown tender yesterday while she’d been riding the rented horse.

      The animal, white with liver-colored spots, had been gentle enough, but slipping about in the saddle while the horse picked its way over the rough trail had been quite tedious, and the thick wool of the britches Kit had bought from the Chinese washwoman at the hotel had chafed her bottom from the constant motion. There was one spot in particular where she wondered if there was any skin left.

      It was a while later when Clay glanced over his shoulder again. “You sure you’re doing all right?”

      “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she lied, flinching at another sliver of pain commencing in her bottom. Tightening her leg muscles, she held her breath, hoping that would help.

      His gaze roamed over her face in such a way Kit felt as if she were a newspaper being read.

      “Are you hungry?” he finally asked. “We didn’t have any breakfast. I have some jerky and bread.”

      Would she be able to get back on the horse if she got down? The tenderness had grown stronger, now throbbed as painfully as it had yesterday when she’d climbed off her rented horse. That’s when the animal had run off, while she’d been nursing her injury, much too sore to chase after it. Kit eased her weight onto the opposite hip and held in a groan. “How much farther is it?”

      “To Black Hawk?”

      “Yes.”

      “It’s only about five miles as the crow flies, but ten or more for us.”

      A heavy dread settled on her shoulders. “That far?”

      “Yes. Have you forgotten how far you traveled yesterday?”

      No, she almost blurted, though her backside was a constant reminder. “It didn’t seem that far,” she admitted from between clenched teeth. He might as well have said a hundred miles. The way her bottom throbbed she’d be lucky to make it one, let alone ten. The horse’s gait, though smooth and even, made riding on one hip impossible. She placed a hand on the animal’s glossy-haired rump, which rose and fell with each step, and braced herself against the movement. “Maybe we could get down and rest for a while. I’m sure Andrew would appreciate that.”

      “We’ll stop at that next plateau.” Clay pointed a short distance up the hill. “There’s a set of trees that’ll give some shade. The higher the sun gets, the stronger the rays become.”

      Kit nodded, knowing full well he couldn’t see her actions. But short of groaning, it was the best she could do. Setting her gaze on the terrain, she tried to focus on something besides the pain, knowing the more she thought about the stinging, the worse it became. It was like that with most things—the harder you thought or fretted, the larger they became. Gramps said that all the time. It was true about his will, too.

      And Clayton Hoffman. A year ago, when she’d first learned of the terms of Grandpa Oscar’s will, she’d accepted everything readily enough, too filled with grief to really care. But now that she’d been on her own for a year, and the pain of her grandparents’ passing was easier to deal with, she’d discovered she needed to know the truth. Others didn’t understand the driving need inside her. How could they? They had families. She had no one. Not a single person on earth related to her. The gaping hole that left inside her was indescribable, and it