Emma's Blaze (Fires of Cricket Bend Book 2) by Marie Piper Page B

change of color in her skin from all the time spent out in the sun, but she figured it was worth it.
    Men were allowed so much more freedom than women; it hardly seemed fair.
    Of course, she was wearing pants and no corset, so she kept her complaining to a minimum.
    After a lifetime in cumbersome skirts, pants were an absolute marvel.
    In all honesty, she kept most of her thoughts on Bill. Riding up ahead of her with his shirt off so it could dry, his muscled torso was bare for her to see. The sight had her thinking of all kinds of things she wouldn’t mind doing with him the next time they were alone. The way he sat in the saddle, and the way his body moved with each of Orion’s broad steps, had her wondering lots of things. How many women had he known, and how had he been as a lover with them?
    Losing her head over the handsome cowboy had not been in her plans. Flirting with him, and perhaps even kissing him, those were things she’d began to consider the minute she’d met him. Feeling actual feelings, though, that was different. But her plans, ill-conceived as they were, had all disappeared a long time prior. They’d all been blown away in the wind the night she’d slipped away and run from the men she’d first hired to get her to Cricket Bend.
    The men she traveled with now were better. Sure, they swore and spit and drank, but their hearts were good enough to grant her passage, and thus far they had kept her safe. Not a one had tried to grope her or sneak a kiss she hadn’t wanted.
    And the cowboy she did want had gone right ahead and kissed her. The kiss had been lovely. Though they’d been rudely interrupted, she wondered how much more lovely things would have become.
    “Miss Sparrow!”
    She turned in time to catch a piece of dried beef that Jess tossed to her as he slowed his horse beside hers. She thanked him, and he put the horse back into a gallop as he headed for the front of the drive. As she chewed on the salty jerky, she thought of how she would spend the rest of her life grateful for the McKenzie brothers and their crew. For Jess, the joker. For Pete, the gruff-voiced. And for Saul, who had a sweet way with both horses and a harmonica. Andrew, she would likely never feel kindness for, but that was no great loss. There were plenty of terrible men in the world. He was just another one of them.
    Finally they had travelled far enough for Josiah to call it a day. Camp was set up, supper was prepared, and spirits were high after the successful river crossing. As they ate, Emma felt Bill’s gaze. No amount of propriety could keep her from returning his glance. She’d have given anything to be away from everyone, and alone with him. The memory of the way he’d come to her, partly dressed and open hearted, and the way he’d kissed haunted her, pulled at her, made her think of frightfully improper things.
    “I think I’ll go off a little ways by myself,” Emma said sweetly to Appie, after her work had been attended to. The other men would have shrugged at her suggestion, but Appie would worry if she didn’t play her cards just right. “I’m still a little damp. Figure I can make a fire by those couple trees over there and dry out in private a bit before going to sleep.”
    It worked.
    Once she’d built a good fire and spread out her bedroll, she slipped out of her boots and pulled her leather book from the pocket of her jacket. It had survived the river crossing, and she held it happily. Emma’s journal, bound with leather and decorated with only a burned letter “E,” had been a gift from an admirer whose name she didn’t even recall. She’d filled it with pasted pictures, scribbled notes, addresses, names, memories, locations, sketches, even a little pocket that held a silver dollar in case she’d lost everything else. It was a book of memories—a book of her life. If she were to die, someone could piece her story together from the pages inside. Perhaps they could even take it back to her