Brand snorted. “Yeah, well, some might say you are having the opposite effect on me.”
“Ha! That might be true, but only for those who don’t really know you,” Sawyer retorted.
“You might be surprised.” Brand thought of Ethan and his nefarious conclusions about Brand’s late night excursions.
“I’m intrigued.” While he retained his casual pose, Sawyer’s languid gaze sharpened as he regarded his friend.
Brand shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal what Ethan had assumed. Sawyer expressed strong emotions regarding the girls in his saloon- that they were not prostitutes. Brand was reluctant to disclose Ethan’s assumptions of Sawyer’s establishment.
“Ethan-,” Brand stopped short, regretting mentioning his brother at all. But Sawyer was not to be deterred. Agilely shifting from his relaxed position, he dropped his feet to the floor and sat forward in his chair. Piercing green eyes skewered Brand from across the desk.
“Ethan…what?” The furrow between Sawyer’s brows deepened, his earlier good humor gone.
Brand was stuck now. He regretted his thoughtlessness, but knew there was no weaseling out of telling Sawyer what Ethan had said.
“Ethan cornered me as I was leaving the house one night awhile back. I was headed to the smithy, but I hadn’t told Ethan where I’d been going at night,” Brand paused, meeting Sawyer’s gaze head on. Understanding shone on Sawyer’s face.
“He thought you were coming here.” It was a statement. Sawyer sat back in his chair, his outward calm a thin shield for the frustration flashing in his eyes. “It was a legitimate conclusion. I do have a mess of girls working for me.” His voice was calm, but somehow filled with disappointment. Brand felt sorry for the other man. For whatever reason, and Brand didn’t pretend to know, Sawyer took offense to folks assuming he ran a brothel out of his saloon. He had girls, a mess of them, just like he said. They all lived in the saloon in the rooms upstairs. And while the girls were not as scantily clad as other saloon girls Brand had seen, they weren’t dressed for Sunday church meetings either.
“Sawyer-”
“No, Brand. It’s all right. I understand. Ethan’s not the first and likely not the last to think the worst of my business here. Not everyone is privy to my own personal beliefs on the matter.” Sawyer’s sober expression lightened considerably. “However, Ethan should be privy to yours.”
The statement hung in the air between them. It hadn’t been posed as a question, but Brand knew Sawyer was asking one. Brand remembered how shocked and offended he had felt by Ethan’s accusation and could imagine Sawyer was not immune to such feelings himself.
“He should be, and I reminded him of that,” Brand answered finally.
Sawyer barked out a laugh. “I’m sure you did.”
“I also reminded him of your stance on the matter,” Brand reassured his friend.
“Don’t worry about it too much, Brand. My skin is thick.”
Sawyer had once again assumed his indifferent shield. Brand figured it was just that, a shield. Sawyer was a mystery. But his friendship with the man was not based on unearthing all of Sawyer’s secrets. Brand had enough problems of his own. From there the conversation turned to more benign topics, Brand’s work at the smithy, Ethan’s new dog, and Miss Ellie’s latest matchmaking schemes. Brand had a feeling the old woman wouldn’t rest until she had safely married the Callahan men off and it looked as though she had taken on Sawyer’s matrimonial future as well.
It was late in the night before he untied Dancy from the hitching post out front and made his way home. Riding through town, he once again found his thoughts turning in directions he didn’t want them to go. Maybe he should put a little effort into finding himself a wife. It shouldn’t be so difficult as he knew every eligible woman in the area-the young, widowed, and spinster. It was a darn shame none but one stirred his blood, the one he shouldn’t want… but did.
Chapter 4
Spring was finally giving way to summer, Brand noted, more than a month later, as he made his way into town. The air felt warm and hopeful as new life sprouted from the thawed soil. Work on the ranch had increased with the births of new livestock on an almost daily basis.
As busy as things were at the ranch, the cupboards were running dangerously low, and since Amy’s marriage, it had fallen to Brand to take care of restocking.
Disgruntled, Brand wondered how he had gotten roped into such a thing. He figured it had something to do with being responsible for the books, but even more to do with the fact that Ethan wasn’t very fond of Amelia McAlister. Amelia was the daughter of the owner of McAlister’s Mercantile, Douglas McAlister. Mr. McAlister had passed away recently after a long illness, which had left him bedridden in recent years. During his illness, his grip on the family business had remained firm, hiring Caleb to do the bookkeeping his only concession. Since the old man’s death, the running of the Mercantile had fallen to his children, Harmon and Amelia.
Harmon McAlister was a worthless no-account. Brand had no use for the man. His low opinion was made even lower by Harm’s careless treatment of Amy. Before Beau’s return to Carson’s Gulch, Amy had taken to spending time with Harmon. As much as Brand didn’t like Harmon, he didn’t object, figuring it wouldn’t be long before Amy came to her senses on her own. He regretted that decision, however, the day Beau carried Amy home kicking and screaming after finding the two entangled in a lover’s embrace. Brand had been hard pressed to not go and pound Harmon into the ground, but Beau assured him the matter had been taken care of. Brand figured Beau had done a good job of it when no one saw hide nor hair of Harmon for more than two weeks.
Amelia was a sweet enough gal when she wanted to be, but had gained herself a reputation as a manipulating vixen. For a while, Brand figured it was only a matter of time before the girl got herself into some real trouble. He owned a measure of compassion for her, however, since she had lost her mother when she was just a little thing. Brand used to think it would have done both McAlister children a world of good if their cantankerous father had remarried a good woman to help raise them right. But he hadn’t. Through the years Brand wondered how the Mercantile was able to stay in business, with all of the family turmoil. Surely, the opening of another mercantile in town would have run McAlister’s into the ground.
But for now, it was the only place to buy coffee and other such necessities and so Brand was making his way down the busy street toward McAlister’s. He had to admit, as he stepped up onto the planks of the boardwalk after tying Dancy, that Amelia McAlister had a talent for making the mercantile an inviting place to visit with window displays and a plate of warm cookies on the counter for customers to enjoy both their delicious aroma and taste.
“Good morning, Brand,” Amelia called out as he opened the door, the little bell overhead announcing his entrance. She was balanced precariously atop a small stool, reaching far above her head for a box on a high shelf. Brand’s steps quickened, carrying him to her side.
“Amelia, darlin’, what are you doin’ up there? Where’s Harm?” Without thought, he grasped her around her tiny waist and lowered her to the ground, climbing the small stool himself. “Which box do you need?”
Amelia stood looking up at him, and amused smile tugging the corners of her lips. “Goodness, Brand. I’ve climbed up there a thousand times.”
“Well, this will be one less for you. Now, which box do you need,” Brand insisted.
“The one with the blue wrapping.” Amelia pointed to a box wedged in the middle of tightly stacked packages.
Brand muttered under his breath about her no-good brother as he pulled the box from the stack, careful to not bring the entire column down on his head. Tucking the box carefully under his arm, Brand stepped down from the stool, pinning Amelia with a look.
“Where’s Harm,” he asked again. Amelia huffed, avoiding his gaze. “Amelia,” he warned.
Chin in the air, her eyes met his defiantly. “Brand, if I
waited for my brother to help me with all that needed doing in this place, nothing would ever get done.”
Brand looked at her then, really looked at her. He noticed tired lines around sad eyes, the forced appearance of her smile. He took in her dress, hanging loosely from her usually curvy frame. Brand remembered a conversation with Beau some months back. Beau had found Amelia in the back room of the mercantile, crying. Unfortunately, Amy had walked in and seen Beau comforting Amelia and run off thinking the worst. Beau never did get to the bottom of Amelia’s tears that day. Things didn’t get better for Amelia either; it wasn’t long after that her father passed away.
“He hasn’t been helpin’ out with anything?” Brand set the blue box on the counter, then turned toward her with concerned eyes.
“The only thing Harm has really been good at as far as the mercantile is concerned is spending its profits,” Amelia answered dryly, avoiding his gaze.
“Can you hire some help,” Brand asked.
“Brand, you are a sweetheart to be worried about me. But please don’t. I’m doin’ just fine.” Turning from him she began straightening an already straight stack of catalogs next to the cash drawer. “I’ve been running this store for a couple of years now, under daddy’s strict eye, of course. But he did teach me well.” She forced another bright smile. “Now, I know you didn’t come in here to fetch boxes for me. What can I help you find?”
Brand studied her for a moment. Amelia had changed; she was all business and treated him professionally. It wasn’t long ago he could barely stomach their brief encounters for all her flirting ways.
“Alright, darlin’.” Brand determined he wouldn’t push her today, but the girl needed help. Maybe he should have a talk with Harm. With a shake of his head, Brand handed Amelia his list, then moved about to retrieve most of the items himself.
“Will that be all for you,” Amelia asked sometime later, pushing a brown, paper-wrapped pile of goods toward him across the counter. Brand dithered for a moment before deciding on a handful of cinnamon hard candies. Amelia grinned as she poured them into a paper cone, before adding the price to her tally. Brand settled his bill, tossed a little red candy into his mouth, and loaded his arms with his purchases.
“Thank you, Amelia, honey. You take care of yourself now,” Brand called with a wink as he shouldered his way out the door.
“See you soon, Brand,” she replied, waving.
On his way home, Brand couldn’t turn his thoughts from Amelia and the impression that the girl needed help. He wasn’t sure how he could offer it or convince her to accept it, but he was determined to at least talk to Amy about it. Or even, Miss Ellie, heaven forbid. Brand chuckled at the thought. Miss Ellie would be up to her matchmaking neck with plots and plans were he to mention any concern for Amelia. No thanks! Brand thought. Nope, he would just have a nice little chat with Amy. And then maybe he would hunt up Harmon and knock some sense into the lazy jackass. Now, that was a sound plan that consumed Brand’s thoughts until he reached home.
Chapter 5
It was more than a week later, before Brand finally had an opportunity to talk to Amy about Amelia. He and Ethan had been busy at the ranch. They had made it through the spring birthing and were now fully entrenched in summer’s work, mostly haying and repairing fence. Brand hadn’t even gone to the smithy in more than a month, instead falling into bed after a long hard day, sometimes with his boots still on. But Brand had finally put his foot down to Ethan, letting his brother know they were taking half the day off, and heading to Amy’s for supper. After filling their bellies with Amy’s fine meal, Brand sat on the front porch with his sister and brother-in-law, while Ethan dozed on the sofa in the house.
“I tell you, Amy, the girl is not herself at all,” Brand had told Amy and Beau of his visit to McAlister’s and his worry for Amelia. “She was no-nonsense, all professional. She didn’t even flirt with me one time! And she looked all skin and bones and tired eyes.” Brand shook his head. “Somethin’s not right.”
Amy looked thoughtful, but Beau was nodding his head in agreement.
“I know what you’re sayin’, Brand. Ever since that day when I found her crying, and Amy fell in the creek, she’s changed,” Beau sighed. “I’ve tried to talk to her- to drag it out of her, but she won’t have nothin’ to do with it. Just keeps saying she’s fine. Well, she ain’t fine!”
“No, she isn’t. And she’s working too hard and not gettin’ any help from that darn brother of hers either,” Amy interjected, her expression fierce. The faces of both men darkened at the mention of Harmon McAlister.
“I sure wouldn’t mind meetin’ Harm in a dark alley,” Beau stated menacingly.
“You and me both,” Brand affirmed.
“That will only serve to make you two feel better, not help Amelia,” Amy scolded.
“Well short of putting up ‘Help Wanted’ signs for her, I’m not sure what else to do,” Brand said.
“I’ll talk to Miss Ellie about it. I know for certain Amelia’s been visiting quite often. Maybe she knows what is going on,” Amy told the men.
“Better you than me,” Brand said, unhooking his boots from the porch railing where they were propped, sitting up straight in his chair. “Every time I mention any woman in town, no matter what, that old woman has plans for me to marry her and have six children.” Brand shuddered, prompting chuckles from both Amy and Beau. Shaking his head at them, exasperated, Brand hollered inside the front door for Ethan.
“Come on, Ethan. We’ve got to get on home,” Brand called out, then turned back to his hosts. “Amy. Beau. Thanks again for a fine supper.” Brand hugged his sister tightly and shook Beau’s hand.
“You know you are welcome any time,” Amy said, smiling. “But I thought things were getting better over there since you hired on more boys. Didn’t you hire a cook as well?”
Ethan walked out onto the porch with a groan. “Just because he’s cookin’ don’t mean he’s doin’ a good job of it.” Ethan paused, stretching his arms high above his head. Brand slapped Ethan’s stomach with the back of his hand.
“Let’s get going, Ethan. I’m gonna take you on home, then I’m going into town,” Brand leaped easily down from the porch. “I should have brought Dancy,” he muttered under his breath.
Ethan rolled his eyes at his brothers back. “I bet Beau here, would loan you a mount, Brand.”
“Sure, Brand. Why don’t you take Dolly?” Beau was already off the porch, heading toward the barn, more than willing to loan out his horse to his brother-in-law.
Brand stood, indecisive. Then nodding his head, followed Beau. He would take Dolly, that way he could make it into town long before dark, and still have a few hours to work on some new tools he was making. Waving to Ethan, who was driving the team out of the yard toward home, Brand entered the barn. Beau had pulled a saddle down and Brand took it from him, slinging it over Dolly’s back.
“Thank you, Beau. I’ll bring her back in the morning.” Brand tightened the cinch and led Dolly out into the yard.
“I’m not worried,” Beau chuckled, slapping Brand good-naturedly on the shoulder.
Brand climbed in the saddle and waved to Amy and Beau as he headed down the lane to town.
Several hours later, Brand finally hung up his hammer. Tired, muscles aching, he locked up the smithy and wondered why he did this to himself. All the work he did was his own…he wasn’t getting paid for it. And he usually did some extra, cleaning up for Alan, finishing a project and the like, in exchange for the use of equipment and supplies. But it had been a few weeks since his last trip into town to work at the forge. Maybe that’s why he was hurting so badly, Brand thought, as he raised his arms above his head, stretching his shoulders. It was worth it, however. Brand could do all the ironwork for the ranch and it didn’t cost him anything but his time.
It would take him one more evening to finish his tools. He’d have to bring the wagon next time to take them home. Brand untied Dolly and stood next to her for a
minute, working up the energy to mount and head home.
“Oomph!”
Brand’s head rose, instantly alert. Dolly’s ears had perked, too. He knew he wasn’t imagining things.
“Shh, shh, girl.” He patted the horse’s hindquarters. Brand took a few steps, then paused, his ears straining.
“Omph.” The noise was louder this time.
Brand jerked a knot, tying Dolly once again. He made his way on soft feet down the alley behind the smithy. His steps quickened to a jog as the sounds became more distinct. He reached the back of the saloon- surprised the source of the noises weren’t coming from there and continued moving past the buildings. Then he saw, and with seeing came recognition, the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
“Hey!” he called out, sprinting toward the scuffle. It was dark, the two figures just silhouettes. And from what he could see, it was a one-sided fight. Brand approached, cursing himself for not carrying his gun, until finally he could see more clearly. A man was standing over a huddled figure on the ground, repeatedly punching, hitting, and kicking. The huddled person- Brand let out a growl of rage, grabbing the man by the scruff of the neck and knocking him to the dirt with one well-aimed blow- the figure on the ground was in a dress.
Brand knelt beside the woman, her face still hidden in the shadows behind her hands. Gently, he pulled her arms away from her face. Brand froze, astonished. Blond curls. Blue eyes. Skin the color of cream. Amelia.
What happened next would remain a blur in Brand’s mind, indistinct images and emotions, his next moment of lucidity coming as Sawyer pulled him from the bruised, bleeding, and unconscious body of Harmon McAlister.
“Brand!” Sawyer yelled, pushing Brand into the back wall of the mercantile. “He’s done, Brand. He’s done.” Sawyer’s fierce gaze held Brand’s until reason returned. Brand nodded once and Sawyer released him.
“Mac, get the Doc,” Sawyer called out to his bartender, standing at the ready, a large club clutched in his thick hands. Mac merely nodded and headed toward the Doctor’s. Sawyer glanced at both Harmon and Amelia, then shouted, “Better get Dylan, too, Mac!” Sawyer heaved a heavy sigh, jabbing shaky fingers through his copper curls before turning to stand guard over Harmon.
Loved from Afar Page 3
