by Karen Kirst
Brett gently nudged her with his shoulder, nodded his head toward their now-empty campsite. “Where’s your tent?”
“Come inside and I’ll show you.”
The men shared a look of reluctance.
“Gideon’s not here. He went into town to purchase more nails.” Seemed he wasn’t wasting any time starting on the cabin.
Evelyn worked to keep her expression bland as memories of their near embrace surfaced. If her brothers suspected anything at all friendly existed between them, let alone romantic, they’d throttle her. Then they’d whisk her away from there without stopping to ask her opinion on the matter. So long, sweet independence!
Gideon hadn’t uttered another word as they’d worked together to transfer her things yesterday. Clothing, bedding and books had gone into the room, as had assorted personal items such as her mirror-and-brush set and a basin and pitcher for water. The unessential trunks had been lined along the front outer wall beneath the overhang. When they’d finished, he’d disappeared for about ten minutes, then reappeared with a loaded weapon and an admonishment to be on her guard. Then he’d ridden out of there on Star as if a pack of rabid coyotes were nipping at his heels.
Tugging on Brett’s arm, she hustled him inside. She watched him closely as he took in the chinked-log walls and broom-swept earthen floor.
Reid trudged in behind them, disapproval radiating from his lean frame. “What’s going on, sis?” Walt shimmied down and, grasping Brett’s hand, pulled him over to the cot and motioned for him to sit. Brett complied, perching on the edge, his large hands clasped between his knees. While her twin looked as though he’d eaten a raw onion, her older brother wore an expression of grave concern.
“Don’t you like my new accommodations?” Smiling, she waved her hands about.
“Please tell me you haven’t fallen for his act.” Reid stood stiffly in the middle of the space. Above his white shirt collar, his neck burned bright red.
Framing her face with her palms, she attempted to calm him with reason. “I haven’t fallen for anything. Nothing’s changed except for where Walt and I sleep. You should be happy.” She looked to Brett. “Aren’t you happy we at least have four walls and a roof over our heads?”
“Reid has a point, Evelyn.” He sighed. “First the cow, now this....”
“Trust us to know what we’re talking about,” Reid interjected. “We know how the Thornton brothers operate. Even if he can’t convince you to hand the land over to him, by softening you up, he may be able to get you to agree to share the land.”
“That’s ridiculous.” A dry laugh escaped her. “He doesn’t care what I think. He does, however, care about Walt.”
Reid’s jaw nearly hit his chest. “If you truly believe that, Evelyn, you’re more naive than I thought.”
Her chin came up. Anger simmered in her blood. “I am not naive. You’re insisting I trust you, yet you refuse to show me the same courtesy. I’ve shared this land with Gideon for days now, and I’m telling you, he cares about my son.” Folding her arms across her chest, she glared at each one in turn. “Walt wandered off the other day. The officers had paid us a visit to see how we were getting along, and neither of us noticed him slipping off.”
Real fear lurking in his dark eyes, Brett pulled his nephew onto his lap and held him tight.
“I didn’t have to ask Gideon for help. He just stepped in and took control of the situation. If it weren’t for him, we might not have found Walt.”
Reid’s gaze slid to the boy, his mouth thin with displeasure. Neither man spoke. Of course they wouldn’t readily acknowledge a Thornton might possess good qualities.
“He wasn’t faking his concern,” she insisted. Then she blurted a question that had been gnawing at her for days. “H-have you ever considered Ma and Pa were wrong about the Thorntons?”
“What?” Her twin spun around, looking ready to explode. She was beginning to suspect he had an even worse temper than Gideon. “First you defend the man standing in the way of your inheritance and now you’re accusing our parents of misleading us? What’s gotten into you?”
“The trouble between our families started when we were kids. We don’t know everything that went on, just what Ma and Pa told us.”
Hadn’t she always heard there were two sides to every story? What if the Thorntons weren’t as bad as they’d been led to believe? What if jealousy and bitterness had colored her parents’ view of the situation?
The condemnation in Reid’s eyes stung. What kind of daughter thought such things about her own family?
“You know what? Forget I said anything.” She shouldn’t have brought it up. “Where’s Theo?”
Reid looked as if he wanted to press the issue but ultimately relented. He rubbed a hand through his short hair. “He’s had some trouble out at his claim. Three hogs went missing yesterday.”
“Was it a coyote?”
“This wasn’t the work of a four-legged predator.”
“Someone filched them? Was anything else taken?”
“Not that we’re aware of.”
“We’re keeping an eye out for more trouble, however.” Brett gently nudged Walt off his lap and stood. “We should get started on that henhouse of yours so we can head back home.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Evelyn protested. She calculated how long Gideon had been gone and when he might return. The last thing she wanted was for him to discover her brothers here. Reid, especially, was still hot about what she’d said.
Brett quirked a dark brow.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m not completely slow-witted, you know. I can build a henhouse.”
“It would go faster if he and I did it.”
“That’s true, but I want to do this. How do you expect me to manage my own claim if you insist on doing everything for me?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, she has a point,” Brett said to her twin.
“Always was the most stubborn of the bunch,” Reid groused.
Relief swept through her when they made their way to the wagon and, after unloading the supplies, took their leave. Waiting until they became a speck on the horizon, she retrieved her work gloves and transported the wood to a spot near the site where the cabin would be built. She had to admit Gideon had chosen well. Downstream from his tent, in the copse where she’d discovered him shooting arrows, stately cottonwoods and majestic elms would provide welcome shade from the summer sun and be a necessary buffer against bitter winter winds.
But who would ultimately inhabit this land?
Shoving aside the unsettling thought, she picked up her hammer and set to work. Walt tired of being her helper after a while and went to romp in the grass with Lion and Shadow. They were good companions for him. Playful yet gentle.
She was a quarter of the way finished by the time Gideon returned. Expecting him to be proud of her accomplishment, she was stunned to see him barreling toward her like an angry bull.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Jerking to a stop, he towered over her, his tanned hands furling and unfurling. His brows formed one dark slash above his eyes.
“What does it look like?” She pointed to the birds still in their cages. “I’m constructing a chicken coop.”
“Why?”
“Because I have nothing better to do?” she retorted, irked at his affronted manner.
“Evelyn.”
“To keep them safe from predators. Why else?”
“It didn’t occur to you to ask my opinion on the matter, did it? I doubt the thought even crossed your mind. Who cares what a Thornton wants, right?” He threw his hands wide, his control slipping. “You don’t care about my rights. You don’t care that I’ve poured every last cent I have into this land, that I’ve spent every day since the land rush wo
rking to better this piece of land.”
His accusation hit her wrong. What would he say if he knew she’d stood up for him in front of her brothers? That because of him, she’d questioned her parents’ honesty, a move with the potential to create a chasm between her and the people she loved most?
“Gideon—”
Leaning down, he brought his face close. “Until the case goes to court, this is my land.” He spoke slowly and succinctly. “I don’t want you making any changes without my approval. Understand?”
Scrambling up, she matched his stance. “You’ve conveniently forgotten whose name is on the stake, Mr. Thornton. Just because you’ve been living here longer and have made improvements doesn’t make it yours. I can do whatever I want. Understand?”
“My stake was in the ground when I left to get help for your husband. Someone switched it. Drake was the only one here.”
“He was dying!”
“Your brothers came around to collect his body. In the chaos, my brothers and I weren’t watching the stake....”
“What exactly are you insinuating?” she pushed out through clenched teeth.
“Think hard. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Unless you’re incapable of thinking for yourself, that is.” He smirked.
How dare he! The outrage churning inside bubbled up. That was the second and last time he insinuated she was a brainless female. Seizing the pail of water she’d brought with her, she dumped it over his head.
He flinched. Gasped. Water skimmed off his brim and plastered his shirt to his skin. Satisfaction pulsed through her at his dumbfounded expression. That would show him to insult her intelligence!
Then his eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. Revenge heated up his eyes.
He took a step forward. She stepped back. He advanced again. She retreated.
“Gideon.” Holding out her hands to ward him off, she injected a warning in her voice. He summarily ignored it.
Suddenly his hands were on her waist, and she was being lifted into the air, tossed over his shoulder like a flour sack.
Fists pounding his back, she gasped for air to hurl insults at his head. His shoulder wedged against her stomach made that impossible, however. Where was he taking her? She didn’t have long to wait for the answer. One minute she was suspended upside down, the next she was sprawled in the stream, water soaking her backside and Gideon glaring down at her with his upper lip curled in disdain.
With a grunt of disgust, he stomped off.
“Don’t you ever try a stunt like that again you...you big oaf!” she sputtered, mortified at such cavalier treatment.
Walt stood on the bank, his mouth forming a perfect O. Gideon’s dogs sat on either side, seemingly smiling at her predicament.
How could it be that that beast of a man had ever managed to inspire softer feelings in her? Compassion? Hah! Attraction? Never. From now on, she was looking out for her own best interests.
Gideon Thornton could take a flying leap off a tall cliff.
* * *
Had he really just dumped the widow Montgomery in the creek?
Stalking through knee-high grass, Gideon headed away from her and the cabin site, desperate for space. Perspective. Control.
He peeled the soaked shirt away from his chest and attempted to fan it dry. The last thing he’d expected was for her to upend a pail of water on his head! Evelyn’s triumphant sneer had snapped his restraint, already spread thin from the treatment he’d received at the general store—thanks to her brothers’ vile gossip—and he’d responded without thinking.
Why did she have to invade my life, Lord? he prayed out of desperation. You know how much I crave solitude. All I want is to be left in peace, but that’s impossible with her around. Please, I beg You, end this quickly. Before I lose my mind.
A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. Glancing to his right, he saw purplish-gray clouds swollen with rain hovering over the wide prairie, a streak of jagged white splitting the sky. Wind gusted, whipping the grass stalks against his boots and tossing his hat into the air. Looked as if there’d be no avoiding this storm.
Seizing his hat, he pivoted and strode back the way he came. His horses would be safer inside the stable. So would the widow and her son. Despite all that had gone on between him and her, he didn’t regret his decision to let them move into the tack room. He wouldn’t have felt right staying there while they remained in their tent, vulnerable to the elements and wild creatures and unable to easily rouse him if trouble arose.
By the time he reached the stable, Evelyn and Walt were nowhere in sight. Not only had the coop been abandoned, the chicken cages were gone. Maybe she’d taken them inside when she went to change into dry clothes. Heat climbed up his neck at the memory of her sprawled in the water, gaping at him in disbelief.
At the corral Star and Snowball allowed him to guide them inside without balking. The others he had to coax into their stalls. Petra occupied the far one, meaning Evelyn had taken pity on the milk cow and brought her in with the chickens. He glanced with trepidation at the closed tack room door, half expecting it to swing open any minute and Evelyn to emerge and deliver a stinging set down. As soon as the last animal was taken care of, he quickly retreated to his tent.
Now that his anger had ebbed away, Gideon was beginning to experience a sweeping sense of shame. He knew better than to treat a lady like that. Even one who tested his last nerve.
Chapter Twelve
Please don’t let him knock on the door.
She was not in the mood for another round with the infuriating cowboy. Jerking the brush through her damp hair, Evelyn stood before the pitcher stand in the corner and strained to hear his footsteps. Was it too much to hope he had already returned to his tent?
If he does knock, I won’t answer it. I’ll tell him to go away.
Setting the brush aside, she smoothed the serviceable gray skirt and tucked her white blouse into the waistband. Her wet clothes hung on nail hooks no doubt intended for the horses’ gear, and her soggy boots sat beside the cot to hopefully dry before she had need of them. Like many women on the prairie, she had only one pair, and it wasn’t as if she could do her chores in stocking feet.
I suppose that particular thought hadn’t occurred to Gideon before he unceremoniously deposited me in the stream!
Walt looked up from his picture book at the sound of the wind whistling through the eaves. The clouds opened up then, rain pounding the roof with a ferocity that startled him. Book tumbling to the ground, he bounded off the cot and hurtled himself into her arms.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Hugging him against her, she finger-brushed his hair and caressed his cool cheek. “The storm won’t last forever.”
The words echoed in the still room. A verse slipped through her mind. “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”
She closed her eyes tight. Are You trying to tell me something here, God? The verse was a reminder that this storm she found herself in—not the literal one raging outside but the fight over this land—would pass eventually and that God would carry her through. He had promised never to abandon her. And He hadn’t.
God had comforted her when her parents died. He had given her the strength and forbearance to endure her lonely, painful marriage. And when the shock of Drake’s death and the prospect of raising their son alone had filled her with fear, the Lord had instilled her with His peace.
He would not abandon her. Somehow He would work this problem out.
Water slipped through the eaves and dripped to the floor, the splattering sound causing Walt to twist in her arms to watch. Suddenly she had to know where Gideon was, if he was safe and dry in the stable or riding out the fury of this storm in his flimsy tent.
“Wait here a minute, okay? I’m just going to see how the horses are faring.
”
His eyes big in his face, he nodded. She eased away from him and, crossing to the door, swung it wide and peeked out. The shadowed aisle was empty. She left the room and slowly inspected each and every stall. Petra looked bored. The chickens huddled together in the corner, quiet but alert. The horses, on the other hand, shifted in their stalls, ears pricked and tails swishing nervously.
Gideon wasn’t here.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Evelyn debated whether or not to don her slicker and go outside and check on him. He really shouldn’t be out there. What if lightning struck his tent? For certain the thin canvas wouldn’t keep out the rain. What if he got sick?
What about your decision to worry only about yourself and Walt?
Going to the double doors leading to the corral, she laid a hand on the rough wood plank and peered through the sliver of an opening. Of course she couldn’t see a thing. Indecision ate at her.
Gideon might be a thorn in her side, but that didn’t cancel out those times he’d come through for her and Walt, expecting nothing in return. Take this shelter, for instance. No one forced him to give it up for them.
If she was honest with herself, she’d admit she cared about his welfare. About his safety. And although it wasn’t easy to accept, she truly wanted to see him happy and at peace.
Strangely enough, the knowledge didn’t make her feel like a traitor. It meant she was a human being capable of compassion.
Thunder growled directly overhead, shaking the walls, and Walt darted out the door, frantically searching the darkness for her. Snowball kicked the stall door.
“I’m here,” she said, rushing over to him.
She couldn’t leave her son. Gideon was a grown man able to assess his needs. He’d seek shelter from the storm if it got bad enough.
* * *
Evelyn woke later than usual the next morning. Without the benefit of a window and natural light to wake her, she felt disoriented and groggy. That could be due to the disturbing dreams of Gideon that troubled you throughout the long night, she thought grumpily. She’d dreamed all sorts of disturbing scenarios—his tent washing away with him inside, his tent catching on fire, trapping him inside.
