It'll Be An Adventure (Masters of the Shadowlands #15)(48)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

 

He turned his attention to the dog who was already collecting “Good job” praise from Murphy. “Can you reward the pup, Ben?”

 

“You bet.” Ben went down on a knee to give Sherlock all the pats and treats the dog expected.

 

Moving away, Saxon sucked down some water, watching to ensure Murphy did the same.

 

“Hold on a minute.” Ben picked up the camera he wore around his neck and snapped pictures of Sherlock prancing around with his tug-o-war toy. “I got some shots as he came through the brush too. I’ll send you copies.”

 

“Appreciated—as is your volunteering today.” Saxon set his hand on Murphy’s shoulder. “Murphy, I’d like you to meet Ben Haugen—he’s a nature photographer. Ben, this is our flanker, Murphy Chaykovsky, an author. As it happens, I’m a fan of her historical thrillers.”

 

“Chaykovsky? Honestly?” Ben stared at her. “I’ve read all your books.”

 

“B Haugen? Seriously?” She stared back. “I love your work. Especially the lightning ones—your War of Zeus series.”

 

Stepping back, Saxon grinned at the exchange of compliments.

 

“Time to get back,” Ben said. “I’m thoroughly ready for supper.”

 

Murphy checked her map and pointed in a diagonal direction. “If we go that way, we’ll intersect a horse trail in about half a mile. The walking will be easier.”

 

“You’re the navigator,” Saxon said. “Lead the way.”

 

He followed her and Sherlock with Ben behind him.

 

A while later, Ben said in a low voice, “I’ve never seen you accept your flanker’s directions before. You always double-check or correct their course.”

 

“This flanker happens to be damned accurate—and faster at it than I am.” And why would that be? Hadn’t she said her father had a bed and breakfast in Tampa? City living didn’t give these skills.

 

Just then, they broke out onto the wide horse trail, right where she’d predicted.

 

“Damn, Saxon. I see what you mean.” Ben fell into step beside Murphy. “Good job, miss.”

 

She looked startled at the compliment. “Um. Thank you.”

 

Saxon took the place on her other side. “Where did you acquire such excellent map-reading skills? Not in Tampa, I don’t think.”

 

“No, not in a city.” She grinned. “When I was growing up, my father ran a wilderness lodge up northeast of Tampa. He taught me and my brothers how to find our way around in a forest.”

 

“Good thing to teach kids.” Ben nodded approval.

 

Saxon considered her. “It appears you had a lot of practice.”

 

“Yes, lots. He liked to keep his guests happy, so he’d send me off every few days to scout out the best hunting and fishing spots.”

 

Sent her? Surely not alone. Saxon stopped. “Not your brothers when they were old enough?”

 

She shrugged. “Dugan has no head for directions. He could get lost within sight of the lodge. And Farran’s good with maps but hates the wilderness. He’d hike out a quarter-mile and quit.”

 

For fuck’s sake.

 

Undoubtedly catching Saxon’s rising anger, Ben asked, “How old were you when you started scouting on your own?”

 

“He sent me out a few times when I was eleven or so, but Mama put a stop to that. She died when I was thirteen, and then I did all the scouting.”

 

“Alone?” Ben asked quietly.

 

“Sure.”

 

Saxon’s jaw clenched. In her twenties, Murphy was small and slim. As a teen, she’d have been…tiny. Her father was a real piece of work.

 

Bending to retie her boot, she didn’t see his and Ben’s anger.

 

Saxon had to clear his throat to eradicate a growl. “Is that how you got so good at multitasking?”

 

Straightening, she started down the trail again, ponytail bouncing. “In a way. Since Mama was ill for years, I was in charge of my two younger brothers. The worst was when they were eight and nine, and we got sent out to clear trail.”

 

Isolated at a hunting lodge. Doing wilderness work with two little boys. No wonder she seemed so innocent…and far older than her age at other times.

 

Ben was shaking his head. Probably, like Saxon, wanting to pound the hell out of a lazy-ass, useless father.

 

“Ow.” Murphy came to a sudden stop when a low hanging branch caught on her ponytail band. “Damnfinito.” As she broke the band to get free, her dark brown hair fell in a loose tangle past her shoulders.

 

“Huh.” Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met before?”

 

She froze, expression wary, then her cheek-dimpling smile appeared. “Now, for real, how could you forget someone named Murphy?”

 

Ben laughed. “Good point. But I think—”

 

Mew.

 

“That sounds like a kitten.” Saxon looked around. No way should a cat, let alone a kitten, be out here.

 

“Up there.” Murphy pointed at a skinny black-and-white kitten clinging to a slender branch. “Oh, the poor baby is terrified.”

 

Saxon frowned. The cat was too high for him to reach from the ground. Climb the tree? “I’m too heavy to get out on that branch. So’re you, Ben.”

 

“It should hold me.” Murphy dropped her pack and started climbing.

 

“She didn’t even think twice about it,” Ben murmured as she steadily moved higher. “I like her.”

 

He wasn’t the only one.

 

“Here, kitty.” Her voice was soft and coaxing as she edged out onto the branch. Once close, she stopped and waited. Much like she’d done with the teenager on their first search.

 

Slowly, the kitten moved closer, inch by inch. Not feral, then. Just wary.

 

Saxon spoke in a normal unhurried voice. “Be aware that felines will often run rather than be caught.”

 

She didn’t speak, but he saw her muscles tense. And the second the kitten was within reach, Murphy scooped it up with a fast grab.

 

“Good job,” Ben called.

 

Seeing Sherlock waiting by the tree—oh, wouldn’t that go over well?—Saxon snapped his fingers and motioned for the dog to wait with Ben.