Shannon let out a long breath, took in another one, and looked at her hands. They were trembling slightly. She knew she had come very close to making Whip lose his temper entirely.
But she didn’t know what she had done to cause it.
«I wish you could talk, Prettyface. You’re a male. Maybe you could tell me what I did.»
The big, brindle hound nudged Shannon’s hand. He didn’t know what was wrong with his mistress, but he sensed something was.
«I thanked him very politely for his offer of a place in his sister’s house,» Shannon pointed out.
Prettyface’s tongue lolled as he panted softly.
«Well, maybe not very politely,» she conceded, «but I certainly wasn’t rude. Not nearly as rude as he was.»
The hound cocked his head to one side, ears erect, looking as though he were about to speak to Shannon.
«If only you could talk.» She sighed deeply. «But you can’t. So I guess I’ll have to ask Whip why he got so furious when I said I wanted a home and children of my own. It’s not like I was asking him to provide either one.»
Unsettled, torn between anger and hurt, Shannon walked after Whip.
But when she got to his campsite, all her questions fled. Whip was quickly, efficiently, packing up his belongings.
No! Oh, Whip, don’t leave me yet.
Shannon’s short fingernails bit into her palms as she tried to stem the tears burning against her eyelids.
I won’t cry. I knew it was coming. I just didn’t think it would be like this. In anger.
Shannon started to speak, then thought better of it. She couldn’t trust her voice not to reveal her hidden tears. Silently she turned away and went to her own campsite.
By the time Shannon heard Whip’s big gray horse walking toward her campfire, she could trust herself to speak. Whip pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted without a word.
«Leaving?» she asked him evenly.
«I told you I was.»
«Yes.»
Shannon looked at her hands, took a deep, secret breath to calm herself, and smiled up at Whip.
«Thank you for all you’ve done, Whip. If you ever come back through here — oh, that’s right. You never chase the same sunrise twice.» She made a vague, jerky gesture with her right hand. «Well, thank you. Are you certain you won’t take some pay? You’ve done so much and I do have a bit of gold left.»
Whip looked at Shannon’s pale face and trembling hands and wanted to comfort her and shake her at the same time. Silently he stalked past her and began packing up her camp.
«What are you doing?» Shannon asked after a minute.
«What does it look like?»
The tone of Whip’s voice made Shannon flinch.
«It looks like you’re packing my gear,» she said.
«Do tell.»
Whip rammed some dried food into a burlap bag and looked around for more.
There wasn’t any.
That, too, irritated him. It reminded him of just how close to the edge Shannon had been before he came along, and how close to the edge she would soon be after he left.
Unless she took a job with Willow.
«Why are you packing my gear?» Shannon asked distinctly.
«Because you’re coming with me.»
Shannon’s eyes closed. I refuse to lose my temper over a yondering man who can’t see love when it’s right in front of him.
When Shannon’s eyes opened, they were as furious as Whip’s. But her words weren’t. They were well chosen, spoken in a low voice, and very distinct.
«You weren’t listening very well,» she said. «I’m not going anywhere except up to Rifle Sight to dig for gold.»
«Oh? You going to eat grass while you dig?»
Shannon blinked. «No.»
«Then you better ride as far as your cabin with me. There aren’t enough supplies left up here to keep even a stubborn little idiot of a girl alive.»
«Don’t worry. There’s no ‘stubborn little idiot of a girl’ around to eat the supplies. There is, however, a thick-shouldered, thickheaded blind man with the appetite and disposition of a starving grizzly who —»
Abruptly Shannon remembered that she had promised herself not to lose her temper with this stubborn, blind mule of a man.
«There are enough supplies for a day of digging,» she said with false calm.
Whip looked at the cloud-seething sky and then back to Shannon.
«By this time tomorrow, it will be storming fit to drown Noah,» he said. «A smart little girl would get her rump moving down the hill to shelter.»
«A smart little girl wouldn’t be up here —»
«Amen.»
«— with a rock-stubborn blind man!»
«Pack up,» was all Whip said.
Shannon didn’t move.
With a savage curse Whip turned to her.
«You calling me stubborn,» he said coldly, «is like the pot yelling at the kettle for being black.»
«Do I sense agreement on the subject of your stubbornness?»
«Right now we couldn’t agree on water being wet, but that doesn’t change the facts. There’s no gold in Rifle Sight. There’s a storm coming. There aren’t enough supplies to see you through the storm.»
Shannon wanted to dispute Whip’s words, but she knew he was right. She had been so busy playing with Prettyface and arguing with Whip that she hadn’t bothered to look at the sky.
She came to her feet in a graceful movement that belied her ragged men’s clothing.
«Fine,» Shannon said grudgingly. «I’ll ride with you as far as my cabin.»
«Don’t do me any favors.»
«Don’t worry, yondering man.»
Despite their mutual ill temper, Whip and Shannon worked side by side breaking the camp, understanding what must be done without discussion.
By the time Crowbait was packed and Razorback was saddled, much of Shannon’s anger had bled away into a numbing kind of sadness. She doubted it was the same for Whip. His face was still set and his eyes were still narrowed as he swung into Sugarfoot’s saddle.
Prettyface ranged out around the horses and mule as they took to the vague trail down the mountain. The trip to the cabin was accomplished swiftly and in a silence that made Shannon’s heart ache. Not until they were at the cabin door did Whip speak.
«Gather up some supplies while I check Crowbait. He’s walking kind of light on his left fore-foot.»
Shannon dismounted and went into the cabin. There weren’t many supplies left, but she didn’t grudge a mouthful of them to Whip. He had bought the food, after all, and shot the game. She had done nothing but cook and eat.
She packed all but one day’s worth of her supplies into a burlap bag and carried it out to Whip. He tied the bag onto Crowbait’s pack with a few rawhide strings.
«All set?» he asked.
Numbly Shannon nodded.
Whip swung up into the saddle and looked down at Shannon. The pain in her was almost tangible.
«Hey, honey girl,» Whip said gently, tilting her chin up to him with his left hand. «Turn that smile right side up. People as stubborn and hot-blooded as we are will argue from time to time. Nothing wrong with that.»
Shannon gave Whip a trembling smile. She brushed her lips over the soft surface of his riding glove.
«Thank you,» she said in a low voice.
«For what?»
«Not riding off in anger. I…I don’t think I could have endured it…not knowing where you were, knowing only that you were angry when you left.»
For an instant Whip could only think how good it would have felt if Shannon’s lips had been against his skin instead of his glove. Then the implications of her words sank in.
«You’ll know where I am,» he said flatly. «You’re coming with me.»
Hope flared like lightning across Shannon’s soul.
«I am?» she asked.
«Bet on it.»
«Where are we going?»