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biscuit in the egg yolk left on her plate. She didn’t feel quite so queasy now.
    At least she’d taught Molly to milk old Nellie, and they seemed to get along fine. But look what came of that. Now she had to go help her hunt that diamond. Molly would never find it by herself.
    Law. She was just about at the end of her rope.

Chapter Four
    â€œDamn horseshoe nails. They ought to outlaw horses from main roads.” Jaq studied her right front tire. “Flatter than this river bottom. Glad I brought some of my brother’s old clothes to wear.”
    She gazed up and down the hard-packed highway near the banks of the Cane River. “Doesn’t look like anyone will rescue us, so I better fix this. How about getting my tool kit out of the back.”
    She was sweating after she jacked up the car and wrestled the tire off, but it felt good to get some exercise for a change.
    â€œSay, I’ve never known a woman who could do that,” Eric said.
    She straightened up and wiped her forehead with her shirtsleeve. At least he had the grace to praise her. “My brothers taught me. Came in handy driving an ambulance.” She ripped the tube out of the tire and inserted a new one. “I’ll patch this old tube when we reach New Hope. No sense wasting daylight now.”
    Fifteen minutes later they leaned against the front fender and gazed at the huge fields. “Those are pecan trees on this side of the road,” Eric said, “and cotton fields on that side, in case you didn’t know.”
    She shrugged and pulled a small packet of cigarettes from her front pocket, then tapped one out. She needed a break. “Want a cigarette?”
    â€œOne of yours? Nah.” He jerked out his own pack and held it up. “Real men smoke Lucky Strikes. Couldn’t have made it through the War without them.”
    Spoken like a typical man, she thought. “Who changed that tire?”
    He grinned. “A real woman, I suppose, even if you do wear men’s clothes. They’ve been okay so far. Fooled the drummers and whiskey salesmen at the hotels. I bet those guys would have pestered a looker like you, even with me beside you.”
    He gave her an appreciative glance. “But you need to start wearing a dress tomorrow. I’ve already told my aunt and uncle in Logansport that we’re married. Besides, it’s just fifty miles on to New Hope the next day. You’ll have to be Jacqueline instead of Jaq when we get there.”
    She nodded. The cigarette was loosening her tight muscles, pepping her up. Cigarettes had been her best friend last summer when she returned from a late-night run. After picking up wounded soldiers near the front lines and delivering them to the care stations out of enemy range, she’d needed a boost.
    â€œA drink would taste good about now,” she said. She was ready to reach the hotel and have a decent meal.
    â€œWe’ve got half a bottle of Kentucky bourbon left, and plenty more where that came from. We’re set if we have to stay in New Hope longer than we planned.”
    â€œHeaven forbid.” He produced the bottle like a magician, and she took a swig from it. “Ah, that’s better. Well, we better get this show on the road. I want to hit Natchitoches before dark.”
    As they pushed on over the rough highway, she said, “Willie told me a few things about this area. She’s quite literary, you know. Supposedly Harriet Beecher Stowe modeled Simon Legree on someone from around here. And Kate Chopin lived nearby for a while.”
    Eric looked down at his fingernails. “Even I know Simon Legree. But who’s Kate Chopin?”
    â€œThe author of a scandalous novel called The Awakening. ”
    He seemed skeptical. “I never read novels. What made it scandalous?”
    â€œShe showed that women experience passion.”
    â€œThat’s nothing new.” Eric ran a hand through his blond hair, then lit