by Karen Kirst
Evelyn smiled. The cinnamon-scented breeze wafting from the desserts cooling on the windowsill tempted her, too. “I can’t wait for a real stove,” she said, then winced. In order for her to have a real stove, Gideon would have to move. That wouldn’t sit well with his friends.
“It’s nice not to have to cook over a fire,” the other woman agreed, either oblivious to Evelyn’s discomfiture or too polite to make note of it. She gestured to this rear area of the clinic, which served as her home, sparsely furnished with a bed, wardrobe, stove and square table with four chairs. “It won’t be long until the wedding. I’m looking forward to setting up a real home in Elijah’s cabin.”
The pretty redhead fairly glowed with happiness. At Evelyn’s regard, her cheeks turned rosy. “I’m being a terrible hostess, boring you with incessant talk of my upcoming nuptials. Forgive me.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” She smiled encouragingly.
With her considerate manner and the kindness evident in her eyes, it was impossible not to like Alice Hawthorne. If they weren’t on opposite sides of an age-old, unfortunate feud, she’d count herself fortunate to have her as a friend. As it was, she was risking her brothers’ ire simply by being here. “I don’t mind hearing about it. I happen to like weddings.”
Back in Virginia she’d relished the chance to attend friends’ weddings. Didn’t matter if they were simple or elaborate affairs. Watching a man and woman joining their lives, pledging to love and honor and obey for all their days, never failed to bring her to tears.
She should’ve known something wasn’t right when Drake showed up for their nuptials slightly tipsy. She’d felt cheated somehow. As if he hadn’t respected her enough to take their special day seriously.
Across the table from her, Winona lifted her head. Her pearly white teeth flashed. “You will make beautiful—” she paused, searching for the right word “—marry woman.”
They both understood her substitution for “bride.”
“I hope Elijah thinks so,” Alice said.
“No doubt about that,” Evelyn assured her, recalling the preacher’s besotted expression earlier. He was clearly very much in love with the petite nurse.
Evelyn pointed to the leather moccasin Winona held. All throughout the visit, the young woman had quietly worked to attach colorful beads to the top and sides. “You are very talented.”
Her slender shoulders shrugging, she held it out; she pushed the pile of beads toward Evelyn. “You try?”
She refused without a thought, accustomed to avoiding new and different things. Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
Slim black brows winged up. “Not so very hard.”
“No, thank you. I’m really not a quick learner.”
Alice looked at her in surprise. “Don’t sell yourself short, Evelyn. Look at you...making a life out here in the wilderness for you and your son.” She glanced at Walt playing on the rug, wooden horse and soldiers set up in a semicircle around him. “It takes guts and brains to do what you’re doing.”
Nonplussed, she focused on the honey-hued tea in her cup. This woman was set to join the Thornton family in a few short weeks. Didn’t she know Evelyn was a Chaucer? Wasn’t the fact she could potentially devastate Gideon’s dream reason enough to dislike her?
A soft knock echoed through the long rectangular building. Alice stood and reached for the apron hanging on a hook on the wall behind her. “That may be a patient, although normally they ring the bell. I may be a while. Feel free to help yourself to as much tea as you’d like.”
“Take your time,” Evelyn managed as the redhead disappeared under the thick burlap curtain separating the clinic from the living quarters.
A man and woman’s voices carried to where they sat waiting. Winona’s head lifted from her task and a twinkle of anticipation stole into her obsidian eyes. She obviously recognized the visitors.
As they drew closer, Evelyn made out the singsong accent belonging to Lars Brinkerhoff. Speculation grew that the Indian beauty was interested in more than a teacher-student relationship with the Dane.
The big blond was all smiles as he entered the room. He circled the table and crouched beside Winona’s chair, speaking rapidly in her language. Evelyn was so intent on observing the two interact that she didn’t at first hear Alice or notice the stunning young woman standing slightly behind her.
“Evelyn?” she tried again. “I’d like to introduce you to Lars’s sister, Katrine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.” Pressing a hand to her chest, she scooted her chair back and stood to her feet. “Hello, Katrine. Pleased to meet you.”
Lars’s sister shared his Nordic coloring, with large sparkling blue eyes and flaxen hair arranged in a single neat braid that accentuated her delicate bone structure, the gentle curve of her jaw and full mouth. The robin’s egg blue of her formfitting dress deepened the color of her eyes and lent her skin a healthy glow.
“Nice to meet you,” Katrine said with a sweet smile, her voice more heavily accented than her brother’s. “I have heard good things about you.”
She had? From whom?
Alice gestured to Walt, who’d stopped playing and watched the adults with curiosity, his horse clutched to his chest. “That handsome boy is Evelyn’s son, Walt.”
Katrine waggled her fingers. “Hello, Master Walt.”
Pink staining his cheeks, he dipped his head.
She smiled. “Does he like stories?”
Evelyn nodded. “Very much.”
“May I?”
“Of course.”
While Katrine went to the boy, Lars stood and, eyeing the pie, rubbed his stomach. “Something smells good.”
Glancing at the timepiece pinned to her bodice, Alice sighed. “The men have been gone over two hours. Winona, would you mind serving our friends while I prepare fresh coffee?”
With quiet grace, Winona bent her head in agreement and set about gathering dishes and forks. Beaded wristbands in intricate designs flashed with her careful movements. Moccasins much like the ones she was working on adorned her feet. In between questions after Evelyn’s health and the state of things on the claim, Lars cast sidelong glances at his student. Male appreciation was there in his blue gaze, as was a healthy dose of respect, but caution superseded both. Was that due to their different heritages? The prejudice they’d face if they married and had children? Or was it religious views?
Considering the obstacles they’d have to overcome, Evelyn wondered if either would act on their obvious feelings.
A commotion outside caught everyone’s attention. Katrine stopped her story midsentence when the back door opened to admit Elijah and Gideon. A third man entered behind them, the badge on his vest identifying him as Clint Thornton.
She’d seen him on the streets of Brave Rock, of course. Close up, she noted he had the Thornton nose and strong chin, but his eyes were darker, chocolate-brown shot through with gold flecks. Like Elijah, Clint wore his strength in a tall, compact package. Unlike the preacher, he had features that held a promise of retribution if crossed.
Suppressing a shiver, her gaze naturally sought out Gideon, hanging back as his brothers greeted everyone. How was it possible she’d missed his quiet presence in the short span he’d been gone? Trouble—that was what he was. A threat to her impressionable heart. If only he hadn’t kissed her....
But he did, and you’re just going to have to get past it.
When his piercing gray eyes zeroed in on her, the pulse at the base of her neck leaped in response and she felt as if she’d just dashed full speed across the prairie. Beneath the tabletop, she twisted her hands into a tight ball.
A frown pulled his brows together. Storm clouds brewed in the pale depths. He was upset. Had the meeting not gone well?
> Evelyn could hardly concentrate on the activity around her as the men accepted plates and consumed their pie standing up, insisting the women eat at the table. Conversation buzzed. Perched on her lap and happily indulging in the rare treat, Walt deflected much of the attention, for which she could only be grateful.
When they’d said their goodbyes and were leaving the yard, passing beneath the overarching branches of a large oak, she turned to study Gideon’s profile. Seriousness cloaked him.
“How was the meeting? Did you get the answers you wanted?”
Gideon glanced over his shoulder to where Walt was stretched out in the wagon bed. He’d probably be asleep before too much longer.
He shook his head. “There’ve been other incidents.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No.” His knee bumped hers when the wagon hit a dip. “One theory is that the perpetrators are trying to intimidate the settlers into leaving.”
She gripped the edge of the seat. “Makes sense. Out here, land is more valuable than gold.”
Squinting at the sun-washed horizon, he was quiet, seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts as if working a puzzle. Corded forearms rested atop worn-in denim stretched across muscled thighs. His Stetson shaded the upper half of his face, leaving only the harsh jut of his jaw in full view.
“What are the other theories?”
He swallowed hard. “I’m not sure you want me to tell you.”
Dread clogged her throat. “If I didn’t before, I do now.”
“Some of the men think your brothers are the culprits.” He paused at her sharp inhale and looked over at her.
“That’s preposterous!” she sputtered, her temper rising. “My brothers aren’t perfect, I admit, but they certainly aren’t capable of such cruelty. They’re God-fearing, law-abiding citizens.”
“And yet they’ve made it their mission to slander our good name,” he bit out. “To turn every single person in Brave Rock against us.”
Deeply distressed, she scooted to the far edge of the seat, craving distance. As she did, the front right wheel hit a hole and she teetered.
“Evelyn!”
Gideon’s gloved hand clamped down on her arm, yanking her back so that she fell against him with an “oomph.” He jerked on the reins and set the brake.
“Are you crazy?” he demanded, his eyes spitting silver sparks as he gripped her shoulders. “You could’ve been thrown to your death!”
“Lower your voice.” She angled her chin to where Walt lay sleeping.
“My heart nearly gave out.”
“You’re overreacting.”
Charged tension permeated the inches separating them. His fingers tightened a fraction before falling away. He passed a weary hand over his face. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just— You didn’t see what I saw.”
She could imagine. While his concern cooled her ire somewhat, there was something she had to know. “Tell me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you believe my brothers are guilty?”
Gideon sagged against the seat, the reins going slack in his palms. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I see.” Hurt by his frank answer, she again put space between them, careful this time not to go too near the edge.
“I do know this,” he intoned. “I don’t want you to get hurt again. For your sake, I hope they’re innocent.”
Chapter Fifteen
Gideon had hoped that by throwing himself into his work, he’d be able to forget the betrayal in Evelyn’s eyes, the hurt he’d inflicted. But burning muscles and sore fingers weren’t enough to distract him. Working on the rear cabin wall, he hoisted another notched log onto a stack that nearly reached his knees. The dense elm didn’t go easily. When it at last shuddered into place, he straightened and tried to shake the stinging tension out of his shoulders and upper back.
A light breeze rustled the leaves. The quiet bothered him. There was no activity at the stable, only his horses grazing peacefully in the midafternoon sunshine. One thing about Evelyn’s new quarters: he couldn’t easily check on her. This time of day she was usually helping Walt catch crawdads or sitting on the bank with her nose in a book while he splashed around.
Funny, he didn’t mind their presence anymore. He’d grown accustomed to it...even enjoyed it. So what happens after they leave? Or you?
He tugged off his gloves, mopped his face with a handkerchief and set off to check the tack room. Maybe they’d decided to seek shelter from the heat.
But the door stood ajar, revealing an empty room. He went back outside and, executing a complete circle, searched all directions. When he saw no sign of them, he tried not to jump to conclusions. They could’ve gone for a walk. Considering Walt’s curious nature, that could take hours.
Just to be safe, he fastened on his gun belt. He whistled for Star, who met him at the gate, and hauled himself onto the palomino’s broad back. Lion and Shadow did not like his command to stay put, but they did as ordered. He wondered what would happen when the judge handed down his ruling. The boy had grown attached to his dogs and vice versa.
He frowned, unhappy with the thought of Walt missing them. Dreaded the dogs’ mournful eyes and mopey attitudes. And what about you? Can’t deny you’ll miss the boy’s smiles and spontaneous displays of affection. And Evelyn’s singing. Her heart-stopping smiles.
How had he come to this place? His goals used to be clear-cut, his stance on the stake and the claim unshakable, his view of anything Chaucer related set in stone. And now? Everything had blurred. The widow and child had tilted his world so that he saw everything at an angle, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
Heading north, he covered about three acres before he saw them in the midst of a rolling field, shaded by a copse of trees. Drawing closer, he saw that they were sleeping, Evelyn propped against the trunk and Walt sprawled out on the blanket, his head in her lap.
He dismounted and quietly crossed to the edge of their picnic blanket. Evelyn’s hair was loose about her shoulders, the black-brown waves a stark contrast to the filmy peach dress she’d changed into upon their return from the infirmary. A vision of graceful beauty. A delicate, exotic bloom.
Gideon’s fingers itched to sample her exquisite skin again. How would she react if, like some fairy-tale prince, he woke her with a kiss?
Don’t be nonsensical, Thornton. You must keep sight of your convictions.
His gaze fell on the open book just out of reach of her hand. She must’ve been reading it before she fell asleep. Careful not to disturb mother or son, he skirted the picnic basket and, squatting down, gingerly lifted the book. He recognized the maroon cover and gold lettering. He’d seen her guarding this tome on more than one occasion.
Gideon started to snap it shut when a riot of blues and greens caught his eye. A drawing of a dragonfly spread out across the page, wings spanning edge to edge, lifelike in its detail. Evelyn had done this? Feeling as if he was snooping in a diary but unable to quell his curiosity, he flipped to the first page and began to study the pages one by one. Flowers, trees, insects, animals.
He paused at a drawing of a stately mansion. Rose Hill. The former Chaucer home. He recognized the portico and columns from the brief time they’d spent in Virginia as young men. He wondered why he hadn’t met her then. Knowing Theodore, he’d probably conspired to keep her hidden from them.
So intent was he on that particular drawing that he didn’t notice her stirring.
“Gideon?” Her husky voice startled him. “What are you doing?”
Contrite, he lifted the book. “I came looking for you. You were asleep. This was open on the blanket.”
The drowsiness fled. Her eyes narrowed. “And you saw that as an invitation to snoop?” Carefully shifting Walt’s weight, she scooted free and scramb
led up. Extended an open palm.
“I— You’re right, I had no business looking through your personal things.”
“Please give it to me.”
Only when he’d returned it did her shoulders relax.
“Evelyn, there’s no need to be embarrassed. You’re very talented. Who taught you to draw like that?”
“No one.” Sweeping the cascade of hair behind her shoulders, she turned away to slip the book into the wicker hamper.
“You have a great eye for detail. And color,” he continued, shifting his stance. “You should share your drawings, not hide them away.”
“They’re nothing special.”
“I disagree. Not everyone is blessed with your natural ability.”
She paused in her gathering of their things to quirk a brow his direction. “You’re just being nice.”
He’d noticed her doing that a lot, downplaying her abilities. And avoiding new situations, he realized, thinking of her reluctance to try her hand at archery.
“Who made you doubt yourself, Evelyn?”
The jar of pickled okra in her hands wobbled. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Of course she did. She just didn’t want to admit he was right. “Was it your brothers?”
Head bent, she worried her lower lip.
“Was it Drake?”
Flinching, she resumed packing as if a tornado were bearing down on them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—I have to get back and start on supper. We’ve tarried longer than we should have.”
Angry at the person responsible for shattering her self-confidence, Gideon struggled against the need to press for answers. She obviously wasn’t ready to divulge painful secrets. He couldn’t blame her. Still, he foolishly hoped that one day she’d open up to him, that one day she’d stop believing lies about herself.
* * *
The persistent thwack drew Evelyn to Gideon’s practice spot. She felt childish for avoiding him. Three days had passed since he’d discovered them sleeping, since he’d seen through her barriers to the truth, since he’d challenged her.
