Rexanne Becnel by When Lightning Strikes Read Free Book Online

for your father to worry. My own father thought Victor a poor choice for me.” She grinned then. “But he came around.”
    Abby gave her friend a wan smile. “Thank you, Sarah. I know what you say is so. It’s just …” She trailed off, unable to reveal even to Sarah the true extremes of her father’s odd behavior. The name change. The desperate urge to get to Oregon—or rather to leave Missouri, for that’s what she had determined it actually was. She just didn’t know why.
    “I’d best be getting back to my own wagon. He probably hasn’t even thought about preparing any supper for us.”
    Abby skirted the wide circle of wagons as she made her way back. Dusk was imminent. The western sky burned with red and gold streaks, made more vivid by the pale wisps of a few high-flying clouds. Though the air was crisp and cold, the scent of a hundred campfires made it seem warmer. How suggestible the human mind was, she pondered. The mere smell of fires burning gave her the illusion of warmth, just as the gurgling of a lively creek on a hot day in August always made a body feel cooler.
    Was that the same sort of illusion that had been going on when Tanner McKnight had looked at her?
    Abby kicked at a clump of dried mud as she considered that unpleasant possibility. Her reaction to him had been real enough. There was no point pretending otherwise. His dark, unwavering gaze. His slow smile. Even the sound of his voice.
    And his touch.
    She nearly tripped over a wagon shaft, then glanced around sheepishly.
    His touch. Reverend Harrison’s hand at her elbow today had not affected her so. Not even remotely. But just because she’d reacted that way to Tanner McKnight didn’t necessarily mean anything. Any number of women might react the same way—no doubt plenty of them already had. The question was, how did he react to her? And more importantly, how could she possibly find out?
    The wind gusted, buffeting her full skirts, and she automatically caught the excess fabric with one hand. But her attention focused on the white tent a little way outside the wagon circle. His two horses cropped grass beyond it, and a low fire glowed nearby. But he was not readily visible.
    She paused, knowing she should not, but unable to prevent herself. Had he spoken to Captain Peters? Would he join up with their company? She forced herself to move on, to prepare herself to deal with her father. He would be angry and short-tempered, or else sullen and depressed. These days she could never predict his moods. But no matter his mood tonight, she had avoided him long enough.
    To Abby’s surprise her father had water going, the table down, and the basic kitchen utensils ready to go. He sat in his chair, one of the three they’d decided to carry west with them. It was plain he was waiting for her, sitting there with a book open in his lap. But he didn’t speak as she put away her bonnet and her prayer book, and donned her apron. Only when she had her hands deep in a bowl, kneading the dough for pan biscuits, did he clear his throat.
    “You risk the affections of a good and honorable man when you behave in a less than seemly manner.”
    Abby punched the dough, lifted it up and slapped it back into the white-enameled tin bowl. “Do you refer to yourself?” she replied, unable to completely contain her irritation.
    “I refer to the Reverend Harrison!” he thundered, rising to his feet.
    Abby lifted her face to him. She’d never spoken disrespectfully to her father. She’d never willfully disobeyed him—at least not on important matters. And she’d never tried to counter him when his voice took on that righteous timbre. But there was a first time for everything, she told herself, though her knees shook beneath her skirts.
    “Since I do not seek Reverend Harrison’s affections, there can be no risk for me.”
    For one long, terrible moment they stared at each other. She feared he would explode with fury, allowing the entire camp to hear what