Hel Morgan

Nine

Warm wind brushed across her cheeks as Connie rode next to Hel, her gaze on the far horizon. Rolling hills, dry arroyos, scrub brush, and the open vastness of blue sky surrounded them. Five days had passed since leaving her life in El Paso behind, striking out into the unknown with a man she barely knew but yet, trusted completely. The girls at the saloon had bidden her a tearful yet giddy farewell, most of them happy for her luck, but jealous too. Everything she had fit into one small suitcase packed behind her saddle.

Travelling light, Hel hadn't purchased a pack mule for supplies, just the bare essentials to get them to the next town. 'Indian country', he'd told her seriously. 'It's better to move quick and fast than tempt them with provisions that will make them big men in their villages.' It didn't bother her, because the future waiting for them at Port Isabel was worth a bit of discomfort. Missus Asahel Morgan-

"What?" Hel was looking at her curiously, a teasing glint in his eye.

"What?"

"I thought I heard my name."

"Ah don't think so," Connie lifted her chin, embarrassed to admit her very girlish musing. "Ah thought we was stoppin' for the night?"

"We are," he indicated a patch of grass near a trio of ash trees. "Just there."

"Good, Ah'm starvin' an' my back is achin'."

"Been a while since you were in a saddle," Morgan stepped down, reaching up to help her off the gelding. "We should have stopped sooner."

"Stop that." Slapping his hands away, she shook a finger under his nose. "Ah ain't broke, weak, nor complainin', Hel Morgan, so mind to your own affairs."

"I'm just trying to-"

"Ah know what you were tryin' to do, Hel, an' Ah'm grateful, really, but Ah ain't helpless."

"I know that," he sounded hurt but respectfully gave her space. "Hungry?"

"Yes, thanks," upset at herself for lashing out, Connie got busy unsaddling the horses and rubbing them down while Hel cooked. She'd made it clear right out of the gate that she wasn't any good at cooking. She'd warned him she wouldn't be doing any domestic chores until she had a house and set up of her own things to get used to using. Until then, he'd have to make do with his own cooking. His laugh had been amused, but Morgan had taken it in stride. Just as he seemed to do with everything else.

It scared her in a strange way, like this was all a dream that could suddenly shatter and leave her stranded and heartbroken. Just like- with a sharp intake Connie shook her head, inwardly scolding herself. This was different. Hel was different. Sliding a look over her shoulder, she watched as he knelt over the small campfire, the light dancing with the shadows across his face.

"Hey handsome," she called, smiling when he instantly looked up. "Need a hand?"

"You offering?"

"Ah guess so," finishing up, she carried their blankets over and laid them out. "Ah can make coffee."

"Yeah?" Interested, Hel balanced on his haunches, flipping the bacon in the pan. "I'd like that."

It turned out it was the best coffee he'd ever had, and she made a second pot. Supper was simple, fried bacon, pan biscuits, camp beans, and canned peaches spiced with cinnamon and rum. After cleaning up, they rolled into their blankets, full, content, and tired. As the firelight died, Connie reached out to put her fingertips on his sleeve. Her lips curved into a smile as Hel's finger twined with hers.

Two days later found them cutting across a track that had Hel leaning off the saddle to study. His frown gradually slid into a grin and with a laugh he turned to Connie.