Brooke nodded.
“You no should come out by yourself in these woods. Many bad men.” Brooke felt a chill run up her spine but wasn’t about to admit that she had been thinking that exact same thing. Instead she noted practically, “You are out by yourself.” Her tone was not defensive, merely observing.
Again the woman smiled. “Men know my husband. He kill them if they touch me.” With a meaningful pat to the butt of a rifle in the scabbard of her saddle, she continued, “I haf protection.” She paused meaningfully. “And I not beautiful, like you.” Her eyes took in Brooke’s hair and form in one sweeping gaze, but Brooke saw no animosity there.
Holding out her hand, Brooke smiled. “I am Brooke Ba—, Jordan.” Taking her hand the plump woman replied, “I Jenny Chang.”
“Did you come to pick berries?”
She nodded. “I bake pies. Sell in town.” She grinned. “Men not say no to blackberry pie.”
Brooke giggled, imagining the profits this woman could make from selling pies to a bunch of bachelor miners.
They chatted freely as they continued to pick and Brooke realized for the first time how much she had missed female company in the last couple of weeks. She shared how she had come to be in the area, about her marriage to Sky, and some about her past.
She found Jenny’s story fascinating. She and her husband had emigrated from China many years before and made their way west. When gold was found in Pierce City in the early 1860s she and Lee, her husband, had moved here. The gold had not lasted long, but they liked the area and so had stayed, opening a Mercantile in town.
Brooke saw a sad light come into Jenny’s eyes as she said, “Lee, he hard man. But—” she shrugged—“he know how to make money. So we do good.”
“Do you like living in America?”
Jenny shrugged again. “I stay with husband.”
By this time both women had filled their buckets, so they seated themselves in the warm August sunshine on a fallen log as they talked. Brooke completely forgot about the time until she heard another horse approaching through the brush. When she looked up and saw Sky riding toward her, she flew to her feet and looked up through the trees, trying to see where the sun was. How late is it?
Hiding in the bushes close enough to the women to hear their conversation, he cursed his bad luck. First, Chang’s wife had come on the scene and now this. He clenched his fist in frustration and eased back through the trees toward his waiting horse.
“There will be another day,” he promised himself. “Another wonderful day—with no interruptions.”
Sky reined to a stop a few paces away and slid to the ground.
“Sky, I am so sorry. We got to talking, and I lost track of the time.”
He nodded his acceptance of her apology even as he smiled at her companion. “Hello, Jenny. How are you today?”
“Fine.” She gave him a charming curtsy. “I thank you for letting Brooke keep company with me. She has made my birthday very enjoyable.”
“Well! Happy Birthday!”
Jenny nodded. “Thank you.”
Sky’s eyes twinkled as they turned in Brooke’s direction. “I am sure Brooke enjoyed the visit as much as you did.”
Brooke pulled Jenny into a quick hug. “It was very nice to meet you. Do you think you could come by for a visit sometime?”
Jenny looked down. “Lee, he—” she shrugged, looking back into Brooke’s face—“he no like me to visit white people.”
“Oh.” Disappointment was thick in Brooke’s voice, but she managed a smile. “Well, the next time I come to town, I will be sure to stop by and say hello. Would that be all right?”
Jenny looked uncertain, but said, “I like that much.” With a smile she mounted her horse and rode away toward town.
Sky’s face turned serious. “I wish you had told me where you were going. I found some strange footprints in the yard. I’m glad you’re all right.” He scanned the brush around them with a troubled expression.
Brooke lifted her chin. The last thing she wanted on a wonderful day like today was to be lectured. “I planned to be home before lunch. Are you hungry again already?”
His face did not break into a smile as she had hoped it would. “These woods are no place for a woman to be wandering around alone. Anything could have happened to you.”
She shrugged off his concern. “I am fine, aren’t I? You found me, and I am all in one piece. Can we go home now?” She turned toward the horse.
“Brooke!” The steel in his tone froze her movements. “Look at me.”
She turned slowly until their eyes locked. Seeing his deep concern caused her conscience to prick and she began to realize just how serious he was.
He took a step nearer. “The next time you need to get out of the house, or away from the farm, let me know. That’s fine. I want to be able to accompany you and make sure you are safe. There are men around here who would...” He let his voice trail off but she understood what he meant and looked away, crimson tingeing her cheeks.
“All right. I’m sorry. I never thought about it not being safe until I was already here. Next time I will tell you.” She knew there wouldn’t be a next time, though. How could she justify keeping him from his work so he could accompany her berry picking? She would stay home rather than bother him with such paltry matters.
He led the horse closer and then turned, looked at her questioningly, and gestured toward the saddle, asking for permission to help her onto the horse. With sudden surprise she reflected over the past two weeks. He had not touched her even once during all that time. He didn’t even hold her hand during grace anymore; had not since the night she had been so nervous and he had been forced to repeat his promise not to mistreat her. Of course, she had known that he meant he would not touch her intimately or abusively, but apparently he was refraining from any contact in order to prove his pledge sincere.
Her mind raced back to that night two weeks ago when she had spilled the coffee and burned her hand. When Sky had cared for her so tenderly that her emotions had run away with her. She glanced at his outstretched hand, willing her heartbeat to stay steady. Even for all of Sky’s kindness she did not want to become too emotionally attached to him. She had never known a man like him and still felt he was a little too good to be true. Riding home with him would involve sitting, once more, within the circle of his arms.
She pressed her lips together.
He still waited patiently, concern on his face. She realized it was too late to keep her heart rate steady. Steady? It hammered in time with the staccato beat of the woodpecker she could hear a few trees away!
Swallowing her apprehension, she gave an almost imperceptible nod, bending to pick up her bucket of berries. His large strong hands encircled her small waist and lifted her into the saddle with ease. He swung smoothly up and she tried to still the trembling of her hands, balancing the wooden bucket carefully as he settled just behind the cantle.
Sky leaned in and whispered, “Remember, I always keep my promises.” Tingling warmth raced down her spine as his breath tickled her ear. She tightened her grip on the handle of the berry bucket.
Reaching out, he tapped the back of one of her white-knuckled hands with his forefinger and continued in the same soft voice, “You have nothing to fear from me, Mrs. Jordan.”
Brooke closed her eyes. For the first time she felt a little disappointed hearing that promise. But she quickly checked the emotions, reminding herself that she could not afford to fall for any man—no matter how kind he appeared to be or how much desire she felt.
Thick shadows deepened the gloom of the forest. He stamped his feet, trying to return the warmth of circulation to them, the pine needles underfoot muting the sound. Bringing his gloved hands to his mouth, he blew on them in an attempt to warm his stiffening fingers. Pulling a gold pocket watch from the front pocket of his vest, he tried to read the time in a weak shaft of moonlight filtering through the swaying tree tops but had to give up in frustration. The
temptation to light a match was strong, but no one must know about this meeting, so the risk of a light, even as small as a match, could not be taken. Irritably shoving the watch back into his vest, he rubbed his hands together, breathing on them again.
The timber overhead creaked eerily, and a night owl called. Somewhere a twig snapped and he stilled, drawing himself back against a tree trunk, trying to blend with the shadows, his eyes alert. He could make out footsteps now. Pulling a derringer from its sheath in the sleeve of his coat, he waited.
A soft chuckle sounded right behind him, making him jump and spin around, the small gun held at arm’s length, coming up to chest level. This only caused the new man to laugh harder. “You are not a true woodsman.”
As recognition dawned, he lowered the gun with a frustrated sigh. “Shut-up, Chang,” he snapped. “Is everything set?”
Chang nodded and placed the stem of his ever-present pipe in the corner of his mouth, reaching for his pack of matches.
“Light that, and I will shoot you.” His voice was deadly calm.
Chang put the matches back in his pocket.
“Now listen,” he continued, “I want the town to be loud and noisy on that night. Give your people something to celebrate and make it happen big. Do you understand?”
Chang nodded, his dark eyes dancing in merriment. “It will be done.” He paused, as though judging the risk he took with his next question. “I know why I am willing to do what you have asked—Fraser put his nose into my business once too often. But what did he do to you to make you hate him so much?”
He stared off into the darkness. “He thought I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.”
This brought another chuckle to Chang’s throat, but it expired quickly when he glared at him with deadly maliciousness.
“Everything will be done as you have ordered.” Chang bowed from the waist and disappeared quietly into the forest.
He sighed in contentment as he holstered his gun and rubbed his hands together in front of his chest. He was about to reap the rewards of revenge, and he was enjoying every moment.
Brooke fluffed the cushions she had just finished making and rearranged them on the couch, eyeing them critically. They were not perfect, but they would have to do, she decided with a sigh.
Sky had given her a bag of scraps his mother had sent with him when he moved to use in patching and repairing different items. The scraps had not been very pretty, but she had done the best she could with the dull colors, and now the couch at least looked comfortable.
The front door opened and she turned toward the sound, wondering if something was wrong. It was not yet lunch time, and Sky didn’t usually come in until then.
She blinked in surprise.
Sky held out a small stool. A bouquet of yellow daisies, interspersed with golden stalks of wheat, and tied with twine, was lying on top. He smiled at her. “I was scouting at the edge of the wheat field and saw these daisies. They made me think of you, so I picked you some. The stool is something I’ve been working on, so you won’t have to stand on a bucket at the chicken coop anymore.”
Brooke didn’t know what to say. She took the offering and smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Then, gesturing toward the cushions, he said, “The couch looks nice. What did you stuff the pillows with?”
“Hay.”
“Later in the spring I’ll hunt some geese and then we can fill them with something a little softer.”
“That would be nice,” Brooke replied as she placed the bouquet into an empty canning jar and added some water.
Sky was quiet a minute, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll head back out now. See you at lunch.”
Brooke nodded and watched him go. As she raised the bouquet to sniff the woodsy scent of the daisies, her heart hammered in her chest.
As Brooke looked out the cabin window a week later, she realized September had seeped into the surrounding countryside. Red-gold maple leaves fell in thick blankets and the Tamarack trees added yellow splashes of color to the darkly timbered hills around the cabin. The days had begun to grow shorter and frost whitened the ground on the occasional morning now.
With Brooke’s careful attention and ministration old Bess’s leg was getting better. She made trips to the barn morning and evening to change the poultice and clean the infected leg carefully.
Brooke really enjoyed her new life. Sky was always tender and gentle, ever thoughtful of her needs. She could not deny that he seemed to have a peace she didn’t have. There was something different about Sky Jordan, but she hadn’t figured out what yet. He was still proving to be different than any man she had ever known.
She considered their marriage. Could I learn to love him?
Her attraction to him gave her pause. Her pulse raced even at the memory of the few times he had touched her. And as her thoughts turned to his careful attention of the past few weeks, she realized, It would not be hard. I will have to watch myself. Although she truly liked Sky, she didn’t want to fall in love with him. She’d had enough of love and its effects for one lifetime.
As she fixed breakfast, she began to sing a mellow tune Solomon, her uncle’s stable hand, had taught her.
Sky entered quietly and leaned one shoulder against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest. He loved the sound of her voice. On many occasions lately, as he approached the house, he had heard her singing, but she always stopped when she heard the door open.
Today she must not have noticed as he entered. Her back to him, she kept on. She was singing a hymn—a Negro spiritual. He closed his eyes and listened to her deep alto.
“Kum by yah, my Lord. Kum by yah.
Kum by yah, my Lord. Kum by yah.
Kum by yah, my Lord.
Kum by yah. Oh Lord, Kum by yah.”
The last time he had heard the song had been in his mother’s kitchen back home. He could see her with her hands submerged in dirty dish water, singing her heart’s cry to her Maker. He wondered if Brooke truly understood its meaning. “Come by here, my Lord.” His thoughts turned to prayer. Lord, make that her cry. Help her want Your presence in her life. Show her how much she needs You.
He opened his eyes. This woman was beginning to mean more to him than he had ever imagined she would. She brightened his day in so many little ways. If circumstances had been different, he never would have married her. She did not share his faith. Yet she touched his heart in a way no one ever had. Not even Victoria. But could he allow himself to love this woman? What if she chose to leave him because of his belief? He would have to let her go. Would he be able to do that if he allowed himself to love her?
Brooke turned from the stove, still singing. She started and squealed in alarm, dropping the spoon she held, one hand going to her mouth.
Just as suddenly as fright had filled her, anger sparked in her eyes. She stomped one foot on the floorboards. “Sky Jordan! How dare you stand there and frighten me like that!”
Sky, still leaning against the frame, glanced down at the spoon on the floor and then back into her sparking blue-green eyes. One eyebrow arched its way upward and a smile spread before he could think better of it. “A man is not allowed to stand in his own house?”
She turned her back on him with a flounce, and Sky’s chest tightened. He suddenly wanted, more than anything, to gather her into his arms. It was with great difficulty that he forced himself to calmly pick up the spoon, set it on the counter, and turn toward his chair and sit down at the table. “You sing beautifully. My mother used to sing that song.”
She still made no reply, but he noticed that her hands quivered as she set the pot of porridge down. He had to force his hands into his lap to keep from taking her hands in his. Not touching her in any way had become increasingly difficult, especially since he had picked her up in the woods that day. He loved the feel of her in the circle of his arms, her body nestled securely next to his chest, the smell of her soft skin filling his senses.
He smiled.
What had he just been asking himself? Could I love her? I think it’s already too late.
She seated herself across from him. He began to bow his head for prayer, but she said, “Sky?”
He looked into her eyes.
“You startled me. I’m sorry for flying off the handle like that. I keep telling myself that one day I am going to get a hold of that temper of mine.” She smiled sheepishly.
“I’m sorry I startled you. But,” he grinned impishly, “your eyes are very beautiful when you are angry.”
“Skyler Jordan!” She feigned shock, but pleasure blushed her cheeks.
He laughed and, without thinking, held his hand out across the table, preparing to say the blessing.
Brooke looked at Sky’s hand, surprised because he had not done this since the first day they had arrived.
I’m staring. She reached out just as Sky, probably realizing what he had done, pulled his hand back. Her fingers grazed the tips of his and her heart lurched. She blushed again, looking toward the back wall of the cabin, and pulled her hand quickly into her lap.
“Brooke, I…” Sky pushed both hands through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t mean to reach across the table like that. Ever since I was a kid we prayed holding hands before meals, and it’s become a habit, I guess. I would love for it to become a tradition in our home someday, but I don’t want you to feel like I am pushing you in any way.”
“Sky—” her eyes focused on his face—“I don’t feel that way.”
He cleared his throat. “Do you mind our holding hands during grace?” She forced her eyes to stay on his face as she shook her head no.
A soft smile lit his eyes as he held his hand out across the table once more.
Brooke hoped he wouldn’t feel her trembling as she placed her hand in his large, work-roughened one and bowed her head.
“Our Father, we thank You for this food, only one of Your many blessings. Guide us, Lord, as we go throughout this day, and draw us closer to You. And Lord, I take time to remember Jason. Remove the bitterness from his heart and help him to find his way back to You. Open his eyes to all that he is missing, Lord. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The Shepherd's Heart Series: A Boxed Set Book Bundle Collection Volumes 1-4 Page 10
