Hope by Lori Copeland Read Free Book Online Page A

they think you’re Anne Ferry, the better off you are. Remember that.”
    “Then you’re not—”
    His look silenced her. “In any position to help you,” he finished her sentence. “Take my advice. Go along with the circumstances for now. Don’t cause any trouble.”
    “I don’t understand. Whoever you are, I want you to help me—”
    “I can’t help you.” He stood up, holding the two skinned squirrels. His dark eyes skimmed her coolly. “Write the note and wait to see what happens.”
    “It’s the money, isn’t it? That’s why you’re with them. You want that money as much as they do, but you won’t get it. I’m not Anne Ferry.”
    A mask shuttered his features. “Just do as I say if you want to get out of this alive.”
    She got up, smoothing the back of her skirt. “What’s the profit if a man has the whole world but loses his soul?”
    He frowned. “What?”
    “The Bible.” She repeated the misquoted verse.
    “Is that supposed to mean something?”
    “It’s Scripture. Mark 8 something.”
    He looked none too happy, and she knew why. The mention of Scripture induced feelings of guilt, as well it should for a man in his profession.
    “‘What’s the profit if a man has the whole world but loses his soul’? That’s found in Mark?”
    She nodded gravely. “My papa was a preacher.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Mine is the Lord, and I imagine he’d prefer you get the Scriptures right.”
    She crossed her arms. “God isn’t mocked. What a man sows, he’ll get back,” she retorted, hoping that was correct.
    If a man sows, he’ll get it back—no, if a sow throws—no, no, there was nothing in the verse about a pig.
    Disbelief filled his face. It irritated Hope that he—of all people—challenged her.
    “‘A fool despises instruction!’” Dear me! Had she misquoted that? Oh, she hoped not—besides, how would he know? Indignant, she paced back and forth.
    “I don’t understand any of this. I was on my way to Medford, minding my own business. You . . . and those terrible men . . . stopped the stage, dragged me off—”
    A clap of thunder shook the ground. Hope glanced up as the first raindrop hit her cheek. “Great. Rain.”
    “At least you got that right.”
    Hope planted her fists on her hips. “I don’t know who you are or what you plan to do with the money you hope to steal, but I do know that a fool despises instruction—”
    “Misquoting again, Miss Ferry.”
    “My papa—,” she began, then gasped as the heavens opened up and poured.
    Grunt grabbed her by the arm, and they started running for shelter. He steered her toward a rise with a long outcropping of rock. The ground beneath was dry.
    “We’ll hole up here until it slacks off.” He settled Hope into the cramped space, then crawled in beside her. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She’d rarely been so close to a man—a man this . . . masculine, with such overpowering presence. He was all muscle and brawny strength.
    Scooting toward the back, she tucked the hem of her dress around her ankles. Grunt took off his hat and shoved his fingers through his dark hair. The two sat, staring at the falling rain. The minutes ticked by. The space shrank, becoming incredibly small and personal. Her arm brushed the fabric of his shirt, their bodies only inches apart in the tiny space.
    She focused on his clean profile. His jaw was firm, not soft and flabby like the others; his nose straight, his mouth well defined. And he had the most incredible dark brown eyes that looked right through her. A sigh escaped her.
    He looked over. “Did you say something?”
    “No.” Such a waste of manhood. He might have made some lucky woman a wonderful husband, been a doting father. Had he implied his “father” was the Lord, or had she imagined it? No self-respecting man would tolerate the likes of Big Joe, Boris, and Frog.
    Aunt Thalia’s voice echoed in her mind: “Let those without sin hurl the first rock.” She could hear