It was the bourbon. Obviously it had affected Jake more than he'd thought, to the point where he was hearing things. Amanda couldn't possibly have just said...? Yup, the victorious glare she sent him before sinking her heels into the mare's flanks said his hearing wasn't faulty.
Dammit, he'd just been royally insulted. The spunky little bitch! "Where the hell do you think you're going? Amanda? Amanda!"
"Washington, Mr. Chandler," she called back over her shoulder, her voice quickly receding. "Where I was going before I met you. Where I'll live perfectly happily without you." Under her breath, Amanda added,, "And I will. If it kills me, Goddammit, I swear I will!"
It wasn't until Jake made a grab for the reins that he realized he still had the money fisted haphazardly in his hands. Dammit! Well, maybe Amanda was stupid enough to fling her portion back in Edward Bannister's face, but Jake was more practical. This was more money than he'd made in his entire life, and he had plans for it! He'd earned it and... by God, he intended to keep it.
Jake stuffed the greenbacks into his saddlebag, then spun the white around. Leaning low over the horse's neck, he growled a command in its ear to go. Quickly. Now.
The people milling about Main Street had the good sense to scatter. It was either that, or be run down.
Chapter 25
Amanda knelt on the hard, lumpy ground. Her smile was wide and proud. Every time she saw the first spark catch on a pile of dried grass and twigs she felt a heady surge of victory. Leaning forward, she blew on the first fragile teardrop of flame.
Her smile broadened when it caught and quickly spread.
In no time the air was thick with the scent of burning wood, and Amanda was being warmed by the heat of a roaring fire. A sigh of contentment whispered past her lips as she sat back on her heels. Still grinning, she tucked the oversized box of matches into her saddlebag.
After a brief, almost guilty hesitation, she removed a can of peaches and a can opener from the leather bag. Stifling a yawn, she propped her back against the gritty trunk of a nearby pine and pried open the tin can.
There was a time when she would have turned her nose up at such a paltry meal. But not anymore. This was a delicacy! After days of eating nothing but jerky and beans, the peaches smelled sweet and syrupy and tempting beyond reason. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation.
She ate slowly, savoring each bit, letting the sweet, fruity taste linger on her tongue until it had almost disappeared before licking her lips and taking another bite. In no time she was scraping the bottom of the can, then shamelessly tilting her head back to drain every delicious drop of syrup.
Gone. Lowering the can to her lap, she sighed. This was her last can of peaches, and she wouldn't be getting more any time soon. Even if she came across a town that sold them, she didn't have enough money to buy them.
On second thought, she didn't have the money to buy anything. What little she'd had had gone into buying enough supplies to get her to Washington. Jerky and beans and an extra wool blanket had seemed like important purchases... at the time. Yet right now Amanda would trade them all for just one more can of peaches!
Not for the first time did she wish she hadn't acted so rashly. Throwing Edward Bannister's money back in his face wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done in her life, though it had seemed a grand idea at the time. Now that Amanda was flat broke, the rebellious act had lost a lot of its appeal.
If she'd kept the money, she could have afforded to buy more peaches. She could also have bought a ticket on a stage instead of having to make the journey to Seattle alone, by horse. If she'd kept the money...
She wouldn't have respected herself, plain and simple. That was the only reason she'd thrown Edward Bannister's money back at him. Well, all right, maybe there was one more reason, but she didn't want to think about that. In fact, she'd gone out of her way to keep her mind clear of those traitorous thoughts for the last five days. She wasn't about to start thinking about them—about him—now.
The money. She would think about the money—or lack thereof—because anything was safer than thinking about...
Jake.
The name arrowed through her and stabbed straight through her heart. A bolt of pain cut through her, hot and sharp and jarring. In five days, the intensity hadn't lessened a bit. If anything, the empty ache inside of her had grown; it was more acute, more consuming than ever.
Five days, Amanda thought as she sat back heavily, breathlessly against the tree. Was that all the time that had elapsed? Just five days? It felt like a year—the longest, loneliest year of her life!
She didn't realize she was trembling until she felt her fingertips vibrate against the empty tin can. Even with the fire blazing, she felt cold. Icy chills washed through her from the inside out.
And empty. She felt so frightfully empty. She—
"The can, princess. You forgot to bury the can."
A shaky smile tugged at Amanda's lips as she glanced down at the can. She remembered Jake telling her to bury waste so that animals wouldn't be drawn to the scent during the night. Normally, she did. Tonight she'd been so tired and confused and lonely that she'd almost forgotten to...
Her smile evaporated. The hairs at her nape prickled, and the skin there heated as though it had been scorched by an invisible flame. Awareness shot down her spine.
She stiffened, instantly alert. The snap of a twig brought her to her feet. She fumbled inside the pocket of her skirt, her trembling fingers searching frantically for the pistol she was rarely without. Though her narrowed gaze scanned the ring of firelight, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Scowling, Amanda wondered if perhaps she wasn't losing her mind. These last few months had been traumatic, to say the least... it was possible. Maybe the voice she thought she'd heard—Jake's voice?—was a figment of her imagination. A product of wishful thinking?
"It sounded real," Amanda muttered under her breath, "but obviously it wasn't."