"I guess you had a good night. Are we ready to go now?"
He chuckled and she glanced up into his mocking gaze. He wasn't one bit concerned that she had caught him. In fact, he seemed pleased. His eyes twinkled and his voice held a touch of humor.
"Why the rush? We've been invited to stay for breakfast. Don't you want to eat before we leave?"
She surrendered the canteens to him along with a scathing stare. "What? Roasted beetles?"
His laugh was short. "Do you have something better? Don't insult them by refusing their hospitality."
He reached for her arm and she jerked it away from his grasp.
"I don't mean to insult them. I just want to be on my way. Pete will be out of his mind with worry."
He sobered and nodded. "I expect he will. And Davis, too."
She stared at him. Did he consider Davis competition? Or maybe a way out of his proposal? She met his gaze coolly.
"Yes, Davis will be worried. So will Royce and Fritz. Aren't you the least bit concerned about whether they made it?" She let her gaze fall significantly on the Indian girl. "Or are you having too much fun?"
His face darkened and his eyes flashed a warning.
"Don't get nasty on me. Nothing has been going on that you wouldn't be welcome to watch."
It was plain that the Indian girl knew she had created a problem. It was also apparent that she was pleased about their discord. Cassie glanced back at Bordeaux.
"Not yet, maybe."
Bordeaux grimaced. "So you want to get out of here before I get the chance?"
She brushed by him. "Don't be silly. We're not married. We're not even engaged. You can do what you want. I don't care."
A strong hand gripped her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt. Bordeaux turned her to face him. His voice was controlled.
"We're going to eat before we leave, and you're going to act grateful. They've been hospitable to us and we're not going to insult them because they were born in the wrong color of skin."
She caught her breath. "I never said...I don't think I'm any better than them."
He released her arm. "I know. You're angry with me. So don't take it out on them."
As usual, he was right. She couldn't blame the Indian girl any more than she could blame the saloon girl who ran off with her father. And she was jumping to conclusions, anyway. Bordeaux said nothing was going on and he had never given her reason to think he was anything but truthful. Of course, neither had her father - until that night.