Page 53 of Cloaked in Beauty

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Philip swallowed the urge to call Letty back when she reached the top of the embankment. He wasn’t one of those pompous fellows who believed a woman too delicate to handle adversity without a man to guide her. Shoot, he’d grown up on a farm with his mother working right alongside his father. There was nothing delicate or weak about his mama’s constitution, nor her mind. He saw the same strength in Letty. He didn’t doubt her capability in retrieving their packhorse and finding her way back to him. The woman had a good sense of direction, and even if she didn’t, all she had to do was follow the river. Nevertheless, the fact that she didn’t need him dented his pride.

Still, he recognized the efficiency of her plan. He wasn’t exactly operating at peak performance at the moment. Battling river currents, bruising branches, and a floundering wolf had left him fatigued and sore in more places than he could count. He rubbed at a particularly achy spot on his chest where he’d scraped against the log to pull himself out of the water. The next few days were going to be mighty uncomfortable.

Philip grimaced as he hunkered down next to Rusty. The wolf’s snout poked out from beneath Letty’s hood. “You’re probably more banged up than I am, aren’t you, fella?” Philip stroked Rusty’s side through the cape.

The animal had taken quite a kick to his side. Hopefully the blow hadn’t been severe enough to do any serious internal damage. As Philip continued to pet him, Rusty turned his face toward him and licked his hand. Philip stilled at the show of affection from his erstwhile nemesis.

“Wow. Two kisses in one day.” He reached under the red hood and ruffled the wolf’s ears the way he’d seen Letty do countless times. “Gotta admit, I liked hers better.” Rusty whined, and Philip grinned at the woebegone expression on the wolf’s face. “Now, don’t go getting offended. I appreciated the gesture. Besides, I’m sure you like her petting a whole lot better than you like mine, so that makes us even.”

Rusty licked Philip’s hand a second time, then dropped his head back down onto his paws, as if holding it up required energy he didn’t have.

“I guess you’re not quite up to climbing the embankment, are you?” Fortifying himself for a task he wasn’t all that certain he was up for, Philip scooped Rusty into his arms and grunted his way into a standing position. “Just so you know,” Philip huffed as he headed up the slope, “I’m not going to lug . . . your heavy carcass around . . . on a regular . . . basis.”

Leaning into the hill, he followed Letty’s footsteps, thankful she’d found a path easier to traverse than the one he’d skittered down earlier.

“You’re not exactly . . . one of those little pugs . . . rich ladies tote around . . . like Queen Victoria.” In truth, Rusty’s weight felt more akin to a cow at the moment, but that had more to do with Philip’s flagging muscles than the animal’s actual poundage.

In the wake of that pitiful observation, Philip stumbled and banged his knee against the slope in front of him. He fought for balance, jostling Rusty in the process, but managed to keep his grip without either dropping his cargo or tumbling down the hill. A rather impressive accomplishment, seeing as how his feet were still mostly numb.

With his legs under him once again, Philip trudged upward and eventually crested the top of the hill. He carried Rusty into the trees and laid him beneath a large pine that still had some dry-looking needles at its base. Next, he fetched his horse, hobbling like a gout-ridden old man while doing so, and led Steele into the trees near Rusty. It took a ridiculously long time to pull off his drenched clothes and replace them with dry ones from his saddlebag. Cold, trembling fingers didn’t match up well against the suctioned grip of wet cloth on clammy skin.

He rubbed his small shaving towel over his chest, arms, and hair, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. What he really wanted to do was peel off his sodden trousers, but they’d have to wait. He only had one spare pair, and they needed to stay dry until they found shelter. The wool socks he pulled onto his feet felt heavenly—until he shoved them into his wet boots. He sighed. It seemed dry was going to remain out of reach for a while.

Philip pulled on his slicker and rolled up his wet clothes inside his buckskin coat and tied the wad behind his saddle. He gave Rusty some jerky, then poured some water from his canteen into a tin cup for the wolf to lap up. Tearing off a hunk of dried meat for himself, Philip pulled out his map and plotted a new route. One that would skirt a little closer to known homesteads where he might find an abandoned barn or line shack they could put to use.

As much as he wanted to push forward and cover the miles needed to get Letty to Houston, he couldn’t deny the need to be at his best if any of Radcliffe’s men caught up to them. He couldn’t afford to be sluggish or weak. Not with Letty’s life hanging in the balance. And right now, sluggish and weak was exactly how he felt. He also had an ache throbbing in his head and cold seeping into his bones.

Philip shoved all of that aside the moment Letty returned. A man could take stock of his frailties when alone with his thoughts, but when there was a job to do, he did what needed to be done.

Yet after they’d ridden for an hour without finding suitable shelter, Philip’s frailties became harder to ignore. Energy depleted, he slumped in the saddle, his vision blurring as he gazed through a curtain of rain. His head pounded, and his body shivered. Only these shivers coursed through him with a different intensity than the ones he’d experienced after his dunking in the river. As much as he tried to rationalize away the signs, Philip suspected his shivering symptomized something more sinister than chilled skin.

24

Letty bit her lip as Philip slumped a little lower in his saddle. They couldn’t go on like this. They needed to stop and get him warm. Rusty, too, though her wolf seemed to be faring slightly better. He’d been limping along beside her for the last two hours, his head low but his pace steady. Rain fell in an unforgiving stream as the temperature of the air continued to drop.

She didn’t know much about the physical repercussions of continued exposure to wet and cold conditions, but she knew she was miserable, and the sum of her sogginess could only be a fraction of what plagued Philip. Letty had donned her cape once she’d returned from fetching the packhorse and pulled the hood over her hair. It smelled like wet dog, but her nose eventually unwrinkled and accepted the odor. She wore her slicker over the damp cape, but rain still found its way inside.

Philip had steered them toward cattle country, hoping they would run across a line shack or an empty barn, but they’d found nothing. And despite her pleading, he’d refused to approach any occupied homestead to seek assistance. A tarp strung between two trees was looking better and better. Yet instinct warned that it wouldn’t be enough. More than rain hounded them. Philip and Rusty still carried the effects of the river. The bone-rattling cold of the water along with whatever injuries they’d sustained from the struggle.

She needed to find a way to help them. Show me, God. Please. Forcing her chin up even though it meant exposing her face to the rain, Letty scanned the gray landscape, desperate for a sign. Any sign.

Shielding her eyes with a hand pressed to her brow, she peered ahead of her but saw nothing but dirt and trees. She twisted to the right and caught a glimpse of something above the branches. A snakelike, gray ribbon weaving up into the sky. Chimney smoke.

Heart pounding with hope, Letty faced forward. “Philip.”

He didn’t answer. In fact, he looked a bit lopsided in the saddle.

“Philip?” She increased her volume and nudged Shadow into a faster gait.

He gave a jerk, then straightened as if he’d nodded off.

Letty reached for his arm as she drew alongside him. Good heavens. He was shaking so hard, he could barely hold on to the reins. He turned to look at her, and it took effort not to gasp. His face had lost all color. And he seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open.

Letty’s jaw tightened and resolve hardened her belly. Enough was enough.

“We’re stopping.” She took hold of Steele’s reins and led the gelding off the path to a small copse of trees to their left.