Clay started to protest, but Flynn spun on his heels and stalked away, wishing once again he hadn’t agreed to partner with Dr. Howell’s expedition. They were outfitted with the highest quality of provisions and the best horses money could buy. The almighty truth was he couldn’t relate to such men and had little patience for them.
He spread out a tarpaulin underneath his wagon and began piling the saddles underneath, where they would hopefully stay dry.
“Mr. McQuaid?”
At Dr. Howell’s call, Flynn braced himself for opposition to his orders. He straightened and faced the group still lounging around the campfire, most in oak-framed camp chairs covered in canvas, the expensive kind that collapsed and were easily stored in a wagon. All eyes turned to him, except Linnea’s. She focused instead on the open notebook on her lap, sketching another plant.
Dr. Howell nodded at his manservant, hovering over him. “Clay has explained to me that you expect to leave at five o’clock.”
“That’s right.”
“Is so early an hour truly necessary?”
“We need to drive the cattle in the cooler part of the morning.”
The scientists began talking at once, proposing various options. Flynn crossed his arms. This wasn’t a leisure trip for him. He was on a mission to get every single one of the cattle to Wyatt. And if these men didn’t like the schedule that was best for the livestock, then they’d just have to part ways.
“Please, everyone!” Linnea jumped up so abruptly her notebook fell into the grass close to the fire. Ivy lurched for it, grabbing it up before it could burst into flames. Dr. Greely, apparently the ultimate gentleman, was on his feet in the next instant, lending Linnea a steadying hand.
She offered Dr. Greely a grateful smile, then turned her attention to the others as amiably as always. “Please, let us do our best to accommodate Mr. McQuaid and his companions. As they have so graciously allowed us to accompany them, the least we can do is follow their schedule.”
Her grandfather and the other scientists had risen now too. “You are quite right, young lady. Quite right.”
“Thank you, Grandfather.”
“Young man”—Dr. Howell addressed Flynn—“you can count on us. We shall be ready at five o’clock sharp.”
Though the others grumbled, no one voiced any further objections. Before he turned to go, Flynn caught Linnea watching him. As earlier, the merest touch of her gaze sent a shot of heat into his veins, a shot he didn’t want but that pulsed through him anyway.
In spite of his reaction, he nodded and hoped she could read his gratefulness for standing behind his decision.
She nodded in return, then dropped her attention to the fire.
Inwardly he sighed. She was a sweet woman and wasn’t at fault for stirring up attraction between them, likely didn’t even realize she was doing so. Whatever he was feeling was his issue and his alone. He had to apologize to her. In fact, he reckoned he wouldn’t be able to rest until he did.
Rivulets of rain ran down the inside of the canvas and dripped into the wagon bed. Linnea had already covered the chest containing their research with her waterproof coverlet. She draped a tarpaulin over the press where several species of grass were drying. And she also placed her most recent discoveries back into her vasculum. The cylindrical botanical box would hopefully keep the plants dry and safe.
Though she could hardly see in the darkness of the night, she’d done the best she could to salvage their research since she’d awoken a short while ago to find the rain pounding hard against the canvas and leaking inside.
Now she needed to go out and insist that Grandfather and the others join her inside the wagon. The dear man would resist imposing on her privacy, but she was fully dressed. And inside, though it would be crowded and dripping with rainwater, was much drier than underneath, where the men had taken to spreading out their bedrolls when it rained. That worked with a gentle sprinkle, but with the strength of this storm, she could only imagine how wet they were.
She loosened the drawstring of the back canvas and poked her head through, only to feel the heavy splatter against her face. She shivered at the cold and drew her waterproof coat tighter, securing the hood in place. By the time she climbed out and her feet touched the ground, her skirt and shoes were already weighted down with rainwater.
The ground was saturated, and her feet sank into the grass and mud. As she trudged around the wagon, she was surprised to find tarpaulins extended from the wagon outward, forming a tent of sorts.
She poked her head underneath the waterproof covering, but she couldn’t see anything clearly. “Grandfather?”
“Linnea?” His voice rumbled nearby with sleepiness. “What are you doing out in the rain?”
“I came to check on you and invite you and the others to take refuge inside the wagon. I didn’t expect to find that you had fashioned a tent.”
“Before the rain came in earnest, Flynn helped us rig up the tarpaulin.”
Flynn had done that for the men? Even after they’d given him a hard time about leaving so early? “Are you staying dry enough?”
“It’s not perfect, but certainly much better than if we’d had nothing at all.” The tap of rain against the canvas nearly drowned out his voice and the snoring of one of the other men.
“You’re all welcome to come into the wagon.”
“Thank you, young lady. You’re so sensitive and kind to offer. But I imagine we’re staying as dry here as we would in the wagon.”
Linnea guessed it was true. They’d likely stay drier if they didn’t venture outside the way she had. “Very well. But if you become too wet, don’t hesitate to climb up and join me.”
“We shall be fine. But thank you for offering.” He stifled a yawn. “Now, you must return to the wagon and stay there, my dear.”
She stood and jumped at a movement a short distance away. She strained to see through the darkness and rain, catching a glimpse of a creature passing through the circle of wagons. Was that one of their horses wandering off? Had the rain spooked the animal?
She’d heard the tales of livestock growing frightened during storms, running off, and causing delays while search parties tracked the missing creatures. Certainly Flynn would be disappointed if the loss of a horse hindered their departure.
From among the endless amount of information Ivy had shared yesterday, Linnea learned the cattle didn’t belong to Flynn, that their older brother, Wyatt, had taken out a loan to purchase the herd for his new ranch up in South Park, and that Flynn was under a great deal of stress to deliver the livestock without losing any.
With a burst of determination, Linnea started in the direction of the wayward animal. If she took action now, she could prevent the mishap and save Flynn trouble.
As the rain hit her face and trickled beneath her coat, her footsteps faltered. Maybe she ought to wait. The deluge seemed to have no intention of letting up, and the night was black, almost suffocating.
Yet Flynn and the other cowboys had to work in this weather. If they could keep watch over their cattle in it for hours on end, she could surely manage a few minutes to track down the horse or oxen or whichever animal had left the fold.
Ducking her head against the onslaught, she made her way in the direction the animal had wandered. Her feet sloshed with each step, and the drenched earth sucked at her shoes as though to warn her to stay.