Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02 Read Online Free

glossary in back to get the meaning of the words. But since he would be visiting Scotland, he thought it might be interesting to get a feel for the people.
    “You brought many books,” Thomas said after a while.
    Rafe nodded absently. Then an idea came to him and he lowered the book. “Can you read, Thomas?” Maybe if the Cheyenne had something to occupy his mind, he wouldn’t be so restless during the time they would be stuck at sea.
    There was a long pause before the Indian answered. “When Black Kettle was my chief, white missionaries came to our village with a book about your Christian god. They offered to teach us to read it. I tried. But I was young, and thought the lessons were boring, so I stopped going.
    “Then later, the bluecoats came with papers they called ‘treaties.’ They said the papers would keep the People safe. We soon learned that the words written there were false. The killing has not stopped, and with every passing season, the number of Cheyenne grows less. Then Prudence Lincoln came.”
    He looked toward the window, sadness pulling down the lines of his face. “When I saw how important books were to her, I tried to learn again. I was a much better student with her as my teacher.” He shrugged and faced Rafe again. “But none of her books spoke of the People. So I have not read since she left.”
    “But you did learn your letters?” Rafe persisted.
    “And numbers. But because I have no interest in such things, it is hard.”
    Rafe rose from the bed and went to the bureau. After studying the titles, he pulled one from the stack—
The Last of the Mohicans
,
by James Fenimore Cooper. “You might like this one.” He handed the book to Thomas. “It’s about an Indian of the Mohican tribe and a white scout who fought together against the French many years ago.”
    “Did they win?”
    “Read it and see.”
    Grudgingly, Thomas took the book.
    Twenty minutes before the dinner hour, a knock sounded on their door. Rafe opened it to find Lord and Lady Kirkwell standing in the hall.
    They were both finely attired. The countess wore a purple ruffled gown with narrow shoulder sleeves, and a low, square neckline that Rafe worked hard not to admire. The earl was dressed in similar fashion to Rafe and Thomas—black trousers with an open waistcoat, a winged collared dress shirt, and a white neckerchief, which Ash called a cravat.
    “You look magnificent,” Lady Kirkwell gushed, clasping her gloved hands in delight. “Don’t they look handsome, Ash?”
    “Thomas, why are you no’ wearing shoes?”
    The Cheyenne held up the knife he usually wore in a sheath laced to the outside of his tall leather moccasin. “I do not know where to put this.”
    “In the bluidy bureau. We’re going to dinner. No’ a buffalo hunt.”
    “Let me help you with that tie,” the countess offered, crossing to Thomas before mayhem erupted.
    While she retied the neckerchief the Cheyenne had mangled, the earl said to Rafe, “We’ll be dining at the captain’s table tonight. A British coal merchant named Horatio Cathcart, and his daughter, Miss Josephine Cathcart, will be there. I met him years ago when I was with the Hussars and we needed remounts. Back then, he had an excellent stable of thoroughbreds. But he was also quite a gambler, so I dinna ken if that holds true today. As I recall, he bought the horses for his daughter, who was reputed to be a fine rider. See if you can find out from her the condition of the Cathcart stable, while I talk with her father. We’ll compare notes later.”
    Rafe frowned. “You want me to talk to her.”
    “Aye.”
    “But I’m not a talker.”
    “Bollocks. You talk to my wife well enough.”
    “That’s different. She has a sweet spot for me.”
    Ash ignored that. “Ask her a few questions, then let her do the talking. That’s what women like best.”
    Rafe grinned, just to goad him. “Not with me. You must be doing something wrong.”
    Ash punched his shoulder then