by Anthology
He grunted. “Well, she is.”
“I guess there’s no chance that the two of you—”
“She made her choice,” he bit out.
Ivy squeezed his arm. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t been wrongly imprisoned and presumed dead.”
“Maybe it would have. Maybe she wouldn’t have remained true.”
His sister searched his face. “You don’t believe that.”
He didn’t want to, but everything he’d believed about Caroline had been shattered. “Didn’t take her all that long to move on. Look at you. Tom’s been gone for a year and a half, almost as long as I was, and you’re not sweet on anybody. Are you?”
“No.”
“I can’t imagine the men who live near you keep their distance.”
“There’s at least one who doesn’t and I have no idea who it is.”
“Come again?” Smith raised a brow.
“Someone has been leaving anonymous gifts.”
“Like what?”
“Drawings, poems.”
Smith grinned. “So, somebody is sweet on you.”
“I guess so.” A shadow passed over her face.
Smith covered her hand with his. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “The gifts are lovely, but it makes me uncomfortable not knowing who’s leaving them.”
“How long has it been going on?”
“About three months.”
“And you have no idea who it could be?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Pa and Ma during their visit?”
“No. I’m sure it’s harmless.” She glanced up. “Mother said you discovered why you were listed as dead.”
“Bart found out it was a clerical error made when I was transferred from Fort Smith to the prison in Kansas.”
“Someone should have to answer for that!”
“I’m home now. That’s what matters.”
“I know,” she grumbled. “But still.”
“You want to dance with your crippled brother?”
“Maybe after another cup of punch.” She released his arm. “Do you want more?”
“No, thanks.” He needed something stronger.
Wondering why Ivy had changed the subject from her secret admirer to him, Smith watched as she made her way across the room to the table laden with cake and cookies at one end, punch at the other.
Smith felt someone’s gaze on him and looked around to find Caroline studying him. His skin grew tight. Every nerve in his body pulsed. Hell. He’d caught her watching him a few times this evening. The expression on her face wasn’t longing, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He just wanted her to stop.
The crowd and the walls closed in on him. The air turned stifling, suffocating, just like prison. He had to get out, get away from her.
He ducked into the parlor that sat off the dining room and found a bottle of whiskey hidden in the back of a small cabinet that held Ma’s good silver. Slipping the liquor under his suit coat, he crossed the dining area to the kitchen and stepped out the side door.
Headed for the massive bare oak several yards away, he hardly felt the cold as the whiskey burned a path down his throat to his gut. Bracing one shoulder against the sturdy trunk, he looked across the hills to the shadow of cattle dotting the landscape beyond.
The night was crisp and clear, stars glittering like frost against the inky sky. Out here, away from her, he could breathe.
He couldn’t abide watching Caroline and Galloway any longer. Why had she even come? Last night, she had almost kissed him and tonight she was with another man.
He took another swallow of liquor. He heard the swish of skirts and glanced over to see her rushing toward him.
Why was she out here? To torture him? He already felt like a lit stick of dynamite.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—put himself in the same position as he had last night. Close to her, alone with her and on the edge of control.
He scowled, resenting the whiff of her soft scent. “What do you want?”
The moonlight gilded her hair like silver, made her flawless skin appear translucent. She looked over her shoulder, as if she were worried about someone seeing them. Who? Galloway?
Something inside Smith snapped and he turned on her. “If you’re going to be with Galloway, then be with him. Stay away from me.”
“I came to tell you something!” Anger sparked in her eyes. “I looked out the kitchen window and saw Ivy in the barn doorway holding a man at gunpoint! I couldn’t tell if he was armed, but he is big.”
Smith cursed, striding past her and into the kitchen. Even though his sister was capable of taking care of herself, he grabbed the rifle from behind the door. “I’ll check on her.”
He rushed outside and around to the front of the house. In the spill of lantern light from inside the barn, he saw his sister in the open doorway, her petite frame rigid, her gun leveled steadily.
“Explain yourself,” she snapped.
The man answered though Smith couldn’t make out the words. The sound of a gun cocking had him picking up his pace.
“I told you not to move,” Ivy ordered.
“Lady, if you’d just let me explain—”
Smith grinned, relaxing as he lowered his weapon. He knew that voice.
“Why were you skulking around in our barn?”
“Skulking? I was unsaddling my horse.”
“Why? This isn’t a boardinghouse or a livery.”
“I know—”
“Where did you come from? Are you armed?”
“I’m more prone to answer questions when there isn’t a pistol stuck in my face.”
“Then you can just ride on.”
“I’m trying to tell you I’m here for a job.”
Smith stepped into the light beside his sister.
The man’s gaze snapped to him and so did Ivy’s. Smith laughed.
The big man, hands still in the air, glared. “Jennings, it ain’t that funny on the business end of a barrel.”
Ivy’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t lower her weapon. “What’s going on?”
Smith squeezed her shoulder as he moved past her, extending his hand to the man. “Gideon, how are you?”
His friend scowled at the woman in the doorway. “Be a sight better if she’d put that gun down.”
Grinning, Smith turned, motioning to his sister. “C’mon, Ivy. Put your pistol away. I invited him.”
Slowly she released the hammer on her revolver and lowered the weapon.
Gideon put his hands down, keeping a wary eye on her.
Smith stepped to the side and drew the big man forward. “Gideon Black, meet my sister, Ivy Powell.”
She cocked her head. “I thought I knew all your friends.”
“I met Gideon in prison.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, a flush cresting her cheeks. “You must be the one who saved his life. Thank you.”
She held out her hand and Gideon hesitantly shook it.
With the lantern turned up as high as it would go, Smith knew she could see the cruel, jagged scar that bisected the man’s neck. And the thin scar along his jaw. There were others where she couldn’t see them.
Gideon had gotten all of them watching Smith’s back. If it hadn’t been for the enormous quiet man, a broken, twisted leg would’ve been the least of Smith’s injuries.
The swish of skirts and the rush of footsteps had him tensing until he saw it was his ma and pa hurrying toward him. Caroline was close behind and Emmett had his revolver drawn.
Smith held up a hand. “It’s okay, Pa. Gideon’s a friend.”
Even as the older man put his weapon away, he looked at Ivy. “You okay, honey?”
“I’m fine, Daddy. It was just a misunderstanding. I was startled.”
Smith introduced his parents then Caroline. His friend’s face didn’t change, but he felt Gideon’s reaction. The man had heard plenty about the woman Smith had planned to
marry.
Gideon palmed off his hat, his dark hair ragged and past the collar of his coat. “Nice to meet you all.”
Smith clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“Yes, come in,” Viola invited.
As they walked toward the house, Galloway came out with Caroline’s cape. He slipped it around her shoulders, keeping an arm there. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.” She glanced at Smith before turning to his sister. “I’ll see you at church tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
The women embraced then Galloway helped Caroline into their buggy before climbing in beside her. After the couple said their goodbyes, Ivy and Smith’s parents started for the house.
Gideon stared after the departing buggy. “I don’t recall you mentioning she had a brother.”
“She doesn’t,” Smith said baldly. “He’s her fiancé.”
“Her what?” The other man’s gaze sliced to him. “I thought you were going to marry her.”
“She thought I was dead.”
“Hell.”
“Yeah. I’ll explain after you’ve had some food.”
Gideon nodded then shifted his attention to Ivy, keeping his voice low. “Just how good is your sister with that gun?”
“Pretty good.”
The other man didn’t respond, but Smith noticed his friend now studied Ivy warily.
Still able to hear the faint jingle of harness, Smith gave one last look back at the buggy carrying Caroline. Damn it, would he ever stop aching for her?
He wanted to move on just as she had. He wanted to forget her and everything they’d shared. The only way he knew to do that was to stay the hell away from her.
Chapter Five
If you’re going to be with him, then be with him.
The next afternoon, Smith’s words still rang in Caroline’s ears. He was right. If she was going to honor her engagement to Ethan, she had to commit fully. She thought she had, but she’d been wrong. The realization had hit her like a blow when Smith had discovered she’d kept their mistletoe.
She shouldn’t have been going through the reminders of their time together, but she had and now he knew it. Disbelief had flashed across his burnished features, then naked longing. The way he looked at her had put a quiver in her belly, just as he’d done last night at the party. Ethan had never made Caroline quiver. Anywhere.
She didn’t want to think about Smith or what had happened after church today with Ethan.
She was determined to talk to William’s mother and waited until late that afternoon before walking to the Dorsett’s home. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and Caroline wouldn’t rest until she knew everything was all right with her student and his mother.
Nose buried in her wool cape for warmth, she approached their small frame house and knocked on the front door. When there was no answer, she knocked again. Still nothing.
She went around back. Their chicken coop, a sturdy shed with a padlock on the door, was open and she heard movement inside.
Once in the doorway, she let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. William stood a few feet away, bent over a long shelf that ran the length of the back wall.
“William?”
The sandy-haired boy jumped and spun to face her. Through the dusky light, she saw panic then fear flash across his thin features.
Why was he afraid? “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s me, Miss Curtis.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He backed up against the shelf, the middle of three where the chickens typically nested and laid their eggs.
There were no hens. As Caroline looked around, she realized there were also no feathers, no feed and no ammonia smell. This was the cleanest chicken coop she’d ever seen.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I’m, um—”
Now she could make out a bulky shape lying on the long shelf behind him. She stepped closer, her breath a frosty puff in the air. Gray watery light slid through the clapboard walls enough for her to identify a blanket. “I came to speak to your mother, but there was no answer.”
“No, ma’am.” The boy’s voice trembled.
Caroline moved closer and touched his shoulder. “William?”
“She’s gone, Teacher!” He threw his arms around her and burrowed close.
Caroline started to ask where Helen had gone, but her brain finally worked out what the bulky shape was on the length of wood behind William. Her arms tightened around his slight frame and she fought to stay calm and steady for him. “What happened?”
“She died.” He pulled away, wiping his wet eyes. “She was real sick, like I said. One night, I told her I was going for Dr. Miller, but she got worse and I was afraid to leave her. Then she just stopped breathing.”
“Oh, William.” Caroline hugged him to her, stroking his hair. “How long has she been gone?”
“Almost two weeks.”
The words jolted her. He had been alone for almost two weeks? Living with the fact that his mother had passed on? “And you didn’t tell anyone?”
Blue eyes troubled, he shook his head. “I almost told young Mr. Jennings, but then I didn’t.”
Smith. He needed to know.
Her stomach dipped at the thought of seeing him. She wasn’t ready. Still, this wasn’t about either of them.
He had agreed to inform Caroline if he learned anything new and she’d done the same. She had to send for him whether she wanted to or not.
* * *
Almost an hour later, Caroline and Smith stood in Dr. Miller’s office with William and his mother’s body. She had finally convinced the boy to let her call for the doctor who also served as the undertaker. He had come at once with Glen Peterson and the two men had carefully transported Helen here, laying her on one of the exam tables.
Now Smith sat on a chair in the corner of the room and William stood in front of him, visibly fighting tears.
The big man laid one hand on the boy’s shoulder as he gave details about what had happened to his mother.
He hadn’t gone for the doctor after realizing she had passed on because he didn’t have money to pay. She insisted they always pay for everything, especially the doctor.
So he had cleaned out the unused chicken house and wrapped her in several quilts, padlocking the door to make a safe place for her until he could get a casket. The reason he had asked for a job at the Diamond J was so he could buy the wood to build her a pine box.
Smith’s gaze met Caroline’s and she knew they were thinking the same thing. Either of them would have been happy to provide for the burial.
Her heart twisted. She had known something was wrong. Why hadn’t she insisted on seeing William’s mother before now?
Guilt bit deep as she moved toward him. “Why don’t you come home with me for tonight?”
“Thank you, Teacher, but I want to be here,” the lad said fiercely, his voice cracking.
She sent a pleading look to Smith.
He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Just to rest. You can come back whenever you want.”
Dr. Miller looked over at William. “You can leave your mother in my care, son.”
“I want to stay with her.”
Caroline trusted her friend, but she wanted William close. “I think it would be better if you stayed with me.”
He shook his head.
Before she could react to his uncharacteristic defiance, Smith wrapped one big hand gently around her upper arm and pulled her aside.
A chill still clung to his deerhide coat though she could feel the warmth of his touch through her cape. Fighting the urge to lean into him, she met his dark gaze.
“Let the boy do this,” he said. “He feels responsible for her.”
The thought of it tightened her throat. “He’s only ten.”
“Caroline,” Smith murmured. “It’s always been only him and his ma. He needs to know he’s the one who took care of everything.”
Inhaling his familiar musky sc
ent, she searched his face, comforted by his nearness, his certainty. She didn’t feel certain of anything except failing her student.
Stephen smiled at her. “Kate and I will look out for the lad.”
She glanced at Smith, who nodded.
“All right.” She turned back to William. “You stay here tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” His eyes were red from crying, but there were no tears right now. Just a soberness and a flash of gratitude.
Smith took her elbow and steered her outside. He could tell she didn’t want to leave.
The uncertainty on her delicate features had him wanting to reassure her, which irritated the hell out of him. She had a fiancé for that.
Still, it didn’t stop Smith from saying, “It’s okay, Caroline. This is right. The boy needs to do this.”
They stepped off the doctor’s porch and started across the cold frozen grass toward her house.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
Smith noticed that her voice trembled, and against his better judgment, he eased closer. Her gray skirts brushed the tops of his boots.
He almost hadn’t come. The messenger had said, “Miss Curtis needs you.” At the time, Smith had bitterly wondered why she hadn’t sent for her fiancé. Then he realized her summons probably had to do with William. Why else would she contact him?
So he’d gone. And it was a good thing he had.
She glanced over, regret on her face. “If I’d been paying attention the way I should have been, I would’ve known something was wrong.”
“You did know,” Smith said firmly. He didn’t like her blaming herself. “You just didn’t guess his mother had passed. No one could’ve guessed that.”
They walked through the chilly night, the full moon barely peeking out from behind thick hazy clouds that signaled they might get more snow. The two of them passed the school then the church.
As they approached her house, she said thickly, “I should’ve tried harder to see Helen.”
They stepped up on Caroline’s porch and she reached for the door, her hand visibly shaking. So much so that she couldn’t turn the knob.
Smith had planned to say goodbye here, but he couldn’t. He opened the door and ushered her inside.
