The Temptress (Montgomery/Taggert 8)

“Please call me Ash. It’s not as if we first met in a drawing room.”

Chris tried to control the redness in her cheeks as she remembered the first time she’d seen this man inside the wardrobe in Hugh’s house.

“Until last year I had my own lumber mill south of here but there was a fire and I lost everything.”

She glanced at him quickly and saw the way the muscles in his jaw twitched. Having lost his business, he was obviously not over the hurt of it. “But you’ve started another business?” she said with much sympathy in her voice.

“Everything I had was tied up in the mill and when it went, I had nothing left.” His voice lowered. “Not even credit.” After a moment, he turned to her and gave a little smile. “But I have every hope that my fortunes will change for the better very soon. Look! I think you have a fish on the end of your line. Shall I bring it in for you?”

“I can manage,” she said as she began pulling and reeling in the line. There was indeed a salmon on the end and within another hour she’d brought in half a dozen good-sized fish, while Ash had two small ones.

He laughed good-naturedly about her being the breadwinner and they walked companionably back to the camp.

There was a small fire going, built for them by Tynan, Chris thought, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

“I’d like to discuss something with you, Mr…. Ash,” Chris said as she expertly cleaned the fish and spitted them with a stick. “I wanted to talk to both you and Mr. Tynan but I can’t seem to get you together. The reason I was at Hugh Lanier’s house was that I was investigating a rumor that Mr. Lanier was involved in something quite evil and—”

“Evil?” Asher said, leaning back against a tree. “Perhaps evil is too harsh a word.”

“I don’t think so and I don’t believe my readers will think so. Hugh Lanier wanted some land that had been settled by eight missionaries. But they wouldn’t sell so he bought guns and hired white men to dress as Indians and massacre the missionaries. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.” As always, when she thought of injustice of this magnitude, her temper began to rise.

“But if it’s only a rumor—”

“It was only a rumor. I have proof that he did it. Among other things, I have a bill of sale for rifles. I even heard him talking to one of the ‘Indians’ and—”

“Heard him?” Asher said. “Do you mean you eavesdropped?”

“Of course I did. I wore a green dress and hid among the cornstalks. But the point is, I have to get my evidence to the newsman who sent me on this mission and, by my calculations, we’re due west of John’s office. We need to leave tomorrow morning.”

She watched Asher as he held his hat in his lap and played with the hatband. “Chris, I don’t believe your father would want you traipsing across the country accusing men of…of what you’re accusing Lanier of. Perhaps when we return to your father’s house, he can send your information to this newsman. Until then I think it best that you stay here in safety.”

Chris just looked at him for a moment. She’d grown up with a man like this one, and she’d worked with men like him. He was perfectly sure she was wrong and nothing she said or did was going to change his mind. “I think the fish are done,” she said softly, then watched as he smiled at her in a way that men who’d just won always smiled at women. She returned his smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

She made light, ladylike conversation with Asher while they ate, not once referring to her plans for getting her story to John Anderson. But as soon as they were finished, she stood.

“I think I’ll go and see if I can find Mr. Tynan,” she said absently as she started down the path toward the river.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Chris,” Asher said. “I’m sure the man would be here if he wanted to be and I’m quite sure that he can feed himself. I think you should sit down and share your lovely company with me.”

Chris didn’t know what she hated more in life than being told what she should do. It was the source of all her problems with her father. He never tried to reason with her, but just told her what was best for her and expected blind obedience.

She smiled sweetly at Asher. “I think I’ll look for our host,” she said and moved so quickly down the path that she didn’t give him time to voice a protest. Within seconds, she heard him thrashing about through the forest as he searched for her. Thanking her mother and her ancestors that she was small, she jumped over a fallen log and hid in the ferns until she saw him go by. When she could hear him no more, she walked a short way through the underbrush before finding that it was impossible to go any further due to the fallen logs and the heavy curtain of moss hanging from every possible surface. She went back to the trail again and started toward the water, essentially following Asher. At the top of the little ridge that overlooked the water, she could see him below, frowning and looking annoyed. Smiling to herself, she continued down the trail.

She’d only gone a few feet when all sound was gone. The rain forest gave one the oddest feeling of being totally alone. All around her was green—gray-green, blue-green, green that was almost black, a lime-green, hundreds of shades of the color. And everything was soft. She ran her hand over a fallen log that was covered with a forest of its own in miniature and smiled at its softness.

Ahead were odd formations created of moss and rotted tree trunks. She couldn’t hear her own footsteps as she walked.

As she rounded a curve, she gasped, for lying just inches off the path was Tynan, fast asleep. There was a pack near his head and a rumpled blanket under him. He slept as bonelessly as a child and he looked very young. Again, Chris was amazed at the sheer beauty of the man and she had an enormous desire to just sit down and look at him—a desire which she indulged.

She had been sitting there for just moments when he stirred and opened his eyes.

“Chris,” he said with a little smile, then closed his eyes again. A fraction of a second later he sat bolt upright, grabbed his hat and put it low down over his face and looked at her. “Miss Mathison, I thought you were fishing with Prescott.”

“I was until I caught so many more fish than he that he suggested we return to the camp. After that I managed to escape down the path and I found you.

Did you enjoy your nap? You certainly deserved it after the way you stayed awake and took care of us.”

Looking like a sleepy boy, he began to rub his eyes and this time, Chris saw that both his wrists were sore. There was also a bruise under his right cheekbone and a half-healed cut above one eye.