"Where'd you find that?"
She shrugged and glanced at Bordeaux, who was approaching the fire. "I didn't. He did."
She handed Bordeaux a plate full of flapjacks she had been keeping warm by the fire and poured some honey over the top.
Davis and Fritz exchanged puzzled glances.
Pete and Royce joined them, their eyes lighting up when they saw the flapjacks. Pete's eyes were twinkling as he took his plate and a cup of coffee.
"I thought maybe you were sick this morning when I saw Bordeaux harnessing your mules."
Royce shot Bordeaux a hostile look.
"When she signed on, she said none of us have to do her work. We all pull our own weight around here."
Bordeaux lifted a quizzical brow. "So, when is it your turn to cook?"
Pete sprayed a mouthful of coffee with his snicker. He wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and turned his toothless grin on Royce.
"You set yourself up for that, boy."
Royce's hostile expression slowly faded into a sheepish smile. "I guess I never thought about that." He glanced at Cassie. "You do all the work we do, and then cook."
"And clean up the camp," Cassie added.
The men silently devoured their food and then helped her clean up the camp. Much as she enjoyed watching them eat crow for desert, she knew their shame would be forgotten by suppertime.
"Thanks for the help, guys, but I agreed to take care of my team and the cooking when I signed on. I don't mind, but I'd like to know my efforts are appreciated."
Pete clamped a claw-like hand on her shoulder. "If you weren't appreciated, you wouldn't have made it past the first trip."
Bordeaux helped her up on her wagon seat and she smiled down at him. "Thanks, but I did all this by myself until you came along. I wouldn't want to start trouble with the guys."
He squeezed her boot and grinned up at her. "Afraid they'll find out you enjoy it?"
There was already a sizable gap between her wagon and the one in front of her. She lifted her whip and expertly popped it over the back of the lead mule. The mule lurched forward and the others followed, jerking the wagon into action. Bordeaux jumped back as her wagon moved to catch up with the others.
Bordeaux was right. She did enjoy the special treatment and the way he stuck up for her. She could wear men's clothes and crack that whip all she wanted, but she was still a woman at heart - and he knew it. All of which was neither here nor there. If she encouraged Bordeaux, the others would think the door was open. Of course, Bordeaux wasn't part of the group. He was only a guest until they reached Ashley. After that she would never see him again. She shook off a feeling of disappointment. Why should she care - and what did he have to gain by all this attention?