by Karen Kirst
He recalled how frightened he and Lije had been. Didn’t take much to send their cousin into a rage. Obadiah had been a hard man, bordering on cruel, who resented being saddled with his orphaned cousins. With their Southern accents and genteel ways, they represented the enemy. No matter that their father had sacrificed his life for the Union cause.
“What happened?” Her voice was muffled.
“We knew we had to find him before our cousin found out, so we begged the stable hands to help us. Lucky for us, they agreed. We finally found him at the river bordering the property, calmly tossing rocks into the water. Clint couldn’t understand why we were so upset.”
A rare smile played about his lips as he recalled Clint’s dumbfounded expression.
“Your cousin would’ve punished you?” She sounded surprised and not a little disturbed.
If only she knew the lengths he would go to make them suffer. “Yes.”
“But how old were you? Surely—”
Gideon straightened, thighs tensing, all senses on alert. “Did you see that?” Pointing to the northeast, he squinted. “There. A spot of black.”
A minute passed. “I see it!”
Maneuvering his horse slightly to the right, he urged him into a trot. His pulse raced. Please, God. “I think it might be Shadow.”
As they neared the copse of trees, he recognized the shaggy muzzle. Shadow’s ears perked. He bounced high and twisted in midair—a display Gideon referred to as his circus routine.
“It is him!” Evelyn cried.
He wondered if she realized how tightly she was clinging to him. Doubtful.
They spotted Walt’s sleeping form at the same time. He was curled up on his side, a snoozing Lion acting as his pillow, and rustling tree limbs overhead a green canopy of shade.
Gideon sagged with sweet relief. The boy was safe. When Evelyn rested her head against his shoulder, he went very still. He got the impression she was praying, giving thanks to God for reuniting her with her baby. A river of powerful emotion swept through him as past and present collided—two very different situations with different outcomes—and it took all his willpower to subdue it. She had her happy ending. That was all that mattered right now.
* * *
Evelyn scrambled down off the horse, stumbling in her haste. “Walt, sweetheart.” She knelt in the grass beside him, checking his forehead for fever, smoothing his hair, caressing his tearstained cheek. He must’ve been so frightened. “Wake up.”
Offering up a silent prayer of thanks, she barely registered Gideon’s presence behind her or Shadow’s wet nose nudging her wrist, his compact body quivering with excitement. Walt’s lashes fluttered. For a moment he looked confused. Then, coming fully awake, he gave a small cry and launched himself into her arms.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Hugging him close, she rubbed gentle circles along his back. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”
Walt wriggled away before she was ready to let him go. He startled both adults by wrapping his arms about Gideon’s legs. Lifting her gaze, she noted the big man looked a trifle pale as he awkwardly patted Walt’s shoulder. Conflicting emotions passed over his face like storm clouds racing across a turbulent sky. While it was clear he was as relieved as she was with the outcome of their search, shafts of sorrow glinted in his light eyes. More than ever before, Evelyn yearned to learn his secrets.
Walt lifted his arms in silent appeal. Biting her lip, she watched Gideon waver before giving in and effortlessly hoisting the child into his arms. The sight of them together—the aloof, tough-as-leather cowboy gazing at her innocent little boy as if he were the biggest, shiniest gift under the Christmas tree—cut up her peace. Something wasn’t adding up here. Gideon’s gentle ways, his genuine concern for Walt did not match the negative image her family had drawn.
“Walt, your mother and I were very worried when we couldn’t find you. There are many dangers out here. I want you to promise that you’ll never wander off again.”
His round face somber, Walt nodded.
“Are you thirsty?” Gideon asked. Lowering her son to the ground, he removed the canteen and waited while he drank his fill. His eyes flashed to her. “Your turn.”
Not arguing with him this time, she gratefully accepted the cool water. She’d forgotten her bonnet and the top of her head burned from the sun’s rays.
“I don’t know about you,” he said to Walt, “but my belly is demanding to be fed. What do you say we go home and rustle up a quick lunch?”
Home. Did he realize what he’d said? Certainly Gideon viewed the claim as his home. He’d been there since day one, making plans and putting them into practice. But what of her and Walt? If the judge decided in their favor, it would be their new home. Gideon would have to leave it all behind and start over elsewhere.
Isn’t that no less than a thief like him deserves?
The thought struck her like a lightning bolt. A few days ago, Evelyn had been convinced the middle Thornton brother was an underhanded crook. Now she had serious doubts.
“Ready, Evelyn?”
He stood by the horse, waiting to help her up. Gideon didn’t look like a crook. He looked honest and good and...lonely. She shook herself out of her troubling reverie.
“I’m ready.”
“I’m putting you in the middle this time, and I’ll get behind you. You can hold on to Walt that way.”
That meant a long ride home with Gideon’s intimidating strength too close for comfort.
“You look flushed.” Whipping off his Stetson, he placed it on her head and, without waiting for her response, circled her waist and boosted her onto Star’s back. Ignoring her indignant yelp, he passed Walt up to her.
When he swung up behind her, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, determined to maintain her distance. But the afternoon’s events had left her emotionally and physically spent, and before she knew it, she’d relaxed against him. His strong arms circled her waist. Heat that had nothing to do with the spring temperatures licked along her veins, shocking her. Certainly her reactions to this man were wholly disconnected from her common sense.
The sooner they got back to camp, the sooner she could put this entire episode behind her. And Gideon’s surprising effects on her equilibrium with it.
Chapter Eight
Disturbed on many levels, Evelyn disregarded her chores in favor of whiling away the afternoon with her son. Fishing rod in hand, she lounged on the bank, letting the cool water rush over her bare feet and the rugged beauty of the plains restore her spirits. A mourning dove cooed overhead. Walt’s happy giggles tickled her ears as he attempted to scoop up minnows with his hands.
She filled her lungs with the pleasant smell of ripe sunbaked grass. She should feel guilty for relaxing when there was work to do, but she couldn’t summon the emotion. Not after the harrowing morning she’d endured. Her arms and legs were still limp, a strange lethargy lingering even though they were safe and sound.
For what seemed the hundredth time in the space of an hour, she offered her gratitude up to God. He must surely be tired of hearing the same words over and over. She couldn’t help it. Every time she thought of what might’ve happened, tears threatened as emotion overwhelmed her.
I’m sorry for being such a ninny, Lord. It’s just that he’s my baby. My only child.
As a young woman daydreaming about her future, Evelyn had envisioned a loving husband and a cabinful of children. That dream was not to be. After her disaster of a first marriage, she would not contemplate a second, not even for the sake of more children. That was why she had to cherish the one child she did have.
Taking the pail containing four medium-sized fish onto her lap, she addressed Walt. “I think it’s time to start supper. Remember, stay where you can see me, okay?”
His gaze flicking
beyond her to where Gideon worked, he gave a firm nod. She’d washed the dirt and tearstains from his small face, and his cheeks were again suffused with healthy color. His fear had easily been set aside. Evelyn prayed he heeded her instructions and didn’t wander off again.
Deliberately not looking toward the stable, she gathered the necessary tools for cleaning and gutting the fish. Gideon had retreated as soon as they’d ridden into camp, leading Star away in a cloud of silence. She knew why she didn’t want to talk. What was his excuse?
Batting away annoying gnats, she quickly egged and floured the fillets and placed them in the skillet sizzling with bacon fat. Cooking in the open field on her portable stove was not a pleasant experience, but she was thankful for the supplies she did have. While they didn’t have a roof over their heads, they had food and clothing and a place to sleep.
When she called Walt to supper twenty minutes later, he handed her an extra trencher. “What’s this for?”
Brown eyes bright with entreaty, he jabbed a finger in the direction of Gideon’s tent. Her lips parted in surprise.
“You want Gideon to eat with us?”
A wide grin split his face, and he did a little jig.
Only then did Evelyn realize she’d forgotten to thank Gideon for the part he’d played in finding Walt. Inviting him to supper would surely make up for the oversight. It didn’t have to be a long, drawn-out affair.
“I suppose we could ask him. Wait here.” Hurrying to the trunk containing her writing materials, she retrieved a small piece of paper and pencil and scrawled a note. “Take this to him and come right back.”
She watched him race to find Gideon, not at all sure the cowboy would even agree to grace their table.
* * *
Gideon rolled up his sleeves and dunked his arms in the water, scrubbing the soap bar across his skin. His face and neck came next. Later, once he was certain Evelyn and Walt were asleep, he’d indulge in a real dunking to rid himself of the day’s grime.
Quick footsteps alerted him to his young visitor. He wiped his face with a towel, then looped it over the rope to dry and turned to greet Walt. Seeing the boy hale and hearty, his expression open and smiling, filled his chest anew with humble gratitude. I suppose I owe You my thanks, God.
“What’s this?” Taking the paper from him, Gideon unfolded it and read the precise handwriting. “Supper at our tent?” Hmm. Short and to the point. He would’ve thought, given the lovely widow’s proclivity for speech, her notes would read more like novels.
Squinting, he gazed upstream. She was busy serving up the chow. Was this her idea or Walt’s? In the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? His growling stomach and the questionable appeal of beans and corn mush made the decision easy.
“I’d be happy to join you,” he told Walt.
The boy flashed a smile and seized his hand. Allowing himself to be tugged across the grassy expanse separating their tents, Gideon couldn’t fight the absurd grin kicking up the corners of his mouth. When Evelyn looked up and saw him coming, she almost dropped the coffee kettle she held. Her arrested expression, in turn, startled him. What had surprised her? That he’d accepted the invitation? His grin? Could his visage be so changed by a simple smile?
“H-hi.” Her fingertips went white as she held the kettle more firmly. A self-conscious smile flitted across her face, and he had his answer. This had been Walt’s idea.
“I hope coffee is all right? It’s either that or water.” She gestured to Petra. “I haven’t milked her yet.”
“Coffee’s fine.”
He supposed she had a reason to be flustered. Hours on horseback had hurtled them way past formality and into a personal zone fraught with land mines. He wouldn’t be forgetting the feel of her arms around him or the silky glide of her hair against his neck anytime soon.
Gideon hung back, giving her plenty of space to work. She put him in mind of a high-strung filly who’d bolt if he made any sudden movements or tried to get too close.
She set the ceramic mug on an oversize trunk serving as their makeshift table. “You aren’t allergic to fish, are you?” She swung around, regarding him with furrowed brow. “I had a cousin who broke out into a terrible rash whenever she consumed it.”
Now he had to actually keep from laughing. “No, I’m not allergic to anything that I know of.”
“Oh. That’s good.” Her delicate nose wrinkled. “It was a nasty-looking rash.”
He eased forward. “Do you need any help?”
“No.” As she shook her head, a glossy section of hair slipped over her shoulder to curve about her collarbone. In spite of riding across acres of wilderness and cooking over a hot stove, she managed to look as fresh as a rose. “I’ll just fill the trenchers and we’ll be ready. Walt, can you please get us three forks?”
Gideon ran a hand over his hair, glad of the recent cut and shave. Resembling a wild animal was fine when he had only himself for company; not so much when a lady was in residence. She was the one forced to look at him day after day, after all.
“Please, have a seat.”
When he’d settled his tall frame on the indicated stool, she placed a trencher of fried fish, sautéed greens and corn cakes in front of him. In the middle of the table, she set a jar of preserved peaches.
“For dessert.” She waggled a finger at Walt, the action offset by an indulgent grin.
When every piece of cutlery and dishware was on the table and she had no other cause for delay, Evelyn took her place on the log beside the child. Situated diagonally from Gideon, she fussed with her skirts so she wouldn’t have to look at him. Her discomfiture was plainly evident.
“Would you mind saying the blessing?” she asked, at last raising her dark gaze to his.
The request startled him. Him? Pray? Out loud? “I—I can’t....” Heat seared his cheekbones. “I—I’m sorry.”
She blinked, as if his words surprised her. Then she rushed to smooth over the awkwardness. “That’s all right. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to doing it.”
What did that mean? How could she be used to doing it after only two weeks? Or had her husband not been a religious man? Gideon felt like an idiot. Still, he was barely able to utter silent, private prayers. He wasn’t sure at this point if he could push the words out of his mouth.
Staring across at their bowed heads as she murmured a brief prayer, he felt his mouth go dry. This was too cozy, too close to what a family looked like for comfort. The mother and child were different, but he was the same. One part of a trio.
It’s just food, Thornton. Relax.
Working to ease the tension from his muscles, he pulled in a deep breath. This would be a simple meal. Quick and painless.
“This is delicious,” he told her once he’d tasted the crispy fish.
“It’s nothing fancy.” She shrugged and sipped her coffee.
“You have a talent, then, for transforming the simplest of fare into a first-rate meal.”
Pretty color blossomed in her cheeks. She looked pained. “That’s kind of you to say.”
Sensing her unease, Gideon turned his attention to his meal. Evelyn Montgomery was a curious contradiction of bravado and insecurity. When it came to her family, she defended them without hesitation, battled with the courage of ten men. But not when it came to herself. It was as if she didn’t see herself as worthy of being championed.
“Where did you find these greens?”
Swallowing, she swiped a napkin over her mouth. “The purslane? Walt and I discovered it upstream a little ways.” She hesitated. “I know you said that you didn’t care much about food, but a small vegetable garden might be worth the effort.”
He balanced his forearms on the trunk edge. “I might plant a small one once the stable is finished.”
“What about lodgings? You don
’t mind tent living?”
“I’ll bunk in the tack room until I can get a cabin up.”
Their gazes locked, and the specter of the court proceedings shimmered between them. Neither knew what the outcome would be, yet both he and Evelyn were assuming they’d continue on here. Foolish, considering one of them would be packing their bags.
For the first time, Gideon experienced a pang of misgiving. While he deserved the land—after all, he had planted his stake first—he couldn’t help worrying what would happen to Evelyn if the judge confirmed his ownership. No doubt Theodore and the other brothers would take her in...but would she be truly content in that situation? He’d seen enough to recognize her drive for independence. The very same thing that drove him.
Walt gestured to his clean plate.
With a soft smile, she dished out a spoonful of peaches and cut them into manageable pieces. Gideon gritted his teeth until he thought they might crack from the pressure. How many times had he or Susannah done the same for Maggie? How he ached to see her again! Why, God? Why did You have to take her from me?
Rising abruptly to his feet, he carried his scraped-clean plate to the stream and dipped it in the trickling water burnished gold by the setting sun.
“You don’t have to do that,” Evelyn said softly behind him. “I’ll clean them later.”
“I don’t mind,” he grated, his throat thick. He didn’t dare turn around. If he did, she’d see how upset he was and would question him about it.
“You don’t want any peaches?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m going to finish my coffee, then. There’s more if you want it.”
He didn’t respond, and she left him to gather his wits. This was what he’d been avoiding, these trip-ups that could so easily plunge him over the edge. He hadn’t lost his control so far, and he had no plans to do so now. Especially not in front of a woman who detested him.
