The Horseman's Frontier Family

by Karen Kirst

  “Evelyn—” He took a single step forward.

  “There’s something I’ve never told anyone.” She rushed ahead before she lost her nerve. “Drake found his pleasure with other women. As soon as he found out I was expecting, which was not long after the wedding, he lost interest.” She paused, inwardly cringing as the remembered shame and disgust washed over her anew. How undesirable she’d felt! How inadequate. “I hid it from my brothers, for I knew exactly what they would do if they found out. So I know what it’s like to fail. I know what it’s like to give something your best and have it still not be enough.”

  The confession left her strangely deflated, yet relieved, too.

  “You didn’t confront him?” Repressed fury rippled the air surrounding him.

  That he was indignant on her account gave her hope that he cared a little. Just as she cared. Evelyn realized then she didn’t need to see Gideon with her eyes; she knew him well enough to anticipate his reactions. She saw him with her heart.

  “I considered it, but Drake wouldn’t have changed his ways for the likes of me.”

  “The likes of—”

  Suddenly, he was before her, his hands curving about her shoulders, his face hovering near. Sparkling awareness danced along her skin as his heat and strength enveloped her. Longing—that traitorous, willful, delightful longing for Gideon—surged through her, and she gasped at the potency of it.

  “That man had no clue what a treasure he had in you,” Gideon stated, a tremor shuddering through him.

  Then he was kissing her, his hands sliding to her back to press her close against his chest. The kiss swept away past hurts and set her free to glory in the present. This man, her former adversary, had wrought a tremendous change in her. He’d challenged lifelong beliefs—about the Chaucer–Thornton feud and, more important, about herself—forcing her to form her own opinions, to set aside fear, to be as brave as he believed her to be.

  There was a truth hammering at her heart, mind and soul, demanding to be named. A truth she dared not name, for once she did, she would not be able to ignore it, would not be able to stop herself from acting on it. And that would be a mistake.

  Throwing her arms about his neck, she held on tight, shutting her mind to the future. A future that surely did not include Gideon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Focus, Gideon. The wild bundle of horseflesh he’d just purchased was none too happy about his new surroundings. One second of inattention was all it would take to get kicked senseless. Murmuring in a low, succinct voice, he kept the rope taut as he coerced the big black into the new, smaller corral he’d erected yesterday with Lars’s and Clint’s assistance.

  He was a gorgeous animal, powerfully built with a sleek black coat and intelligent eyes. Gideon itched to match wits with him.

  Surely this new challenge would divert his mind from his troubles. Was it only weeks ago he’d claimed this land and set out to build a new life? A handful of days strung together since his only worries were filling his belly and erecting shelter for his animals as quickly as possible?

  Now his future hung in the balance, all of it tied to one woman. He had a claim to defend. If Evelyn won, he’d be out a home. Weeks of hard labor down the drain. If he won, Evelyn and Walt would pack their things and return to her brothers. The mental image made him literally sick to his stomach. Did he truly have what it took to evict a widow and her son? On top of that, he had the troublesome Chaucers and their blasted rumors to contend with—again, connected to Evelyn. If he took them to task as he yearned to, she would ultimately be hurt, and he couldn’t do that to her.

  The worst of it was the constant awareness of her, the affection and deep regard that had sprung up without his consent. He didn’t like how he could read her so well. Didn’t like how his common sense flew out the window every time she was around and he spilled his guts at her first question. Took her into his arms as if it were his right, needing her as he needed his next breath.

  Sensing his preoccupation, the stallion whipped his head to the right. The rope slipped through Gideon’s gloves. At the last moment, Gideon clamped down on it, halting the movement.

  “How ’bout you pay attention, Thornton, and try not to get yourself killed?” he muttered under his breath.

  He had Thunder calmed and the gate tightly latched when Evelyn’s mount snuffled a greeting. Swiping his rolled-up sleeve across his damp forehead, he leaned a hip against the middle rung and watched their approach. Relief at the sight of them safe and sound softened his muscles. He couldn’t very well keep them prisoners here—although with faceless criminals roaming freely about Brave Rock, he wouldn’t have minded doing just that—but he worried when they weren’t with him. Something he was going to have to get over once their case had been before the court and they’d parted ways.

  That was the trouble with this forced cohabitation...he’d gotten comfortable with the arrangement. Fact was, Evelyn was not his wife. Walt was not his son. They weren’t his responsibility, but it sure felt as though they were.

  Gauging from her expression, it appeared the visit with her brothers must not have gone well. He hadn’t expected any different. The Chaucers were a stubborn bunch, especially when it came to their stance on the Thorntons.

  He strode to intercept her, then steadied the horse with a hand on his broad neck as she swung down from the saddle and then reached up to Walt.

  “Theo and the others still upset about the other night?”

  Toying with the reticule swinging from her wrist, she nodded, wisps floating about her temples. The stiff black bonnet that accompanied her widow’s weeds framed her face, shading her dark eyes. He noted her cheek was no longer swollen, a slight redness the only reminder of the mishap. Thank goodness. Accident or no, Gideon hated that he’d caused her pain.

  “Upset is putting it mildly,” she said, pretty lips pulling into a frown. “Chaucer men don’t easily forgive. They like to stew.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Like you said, they’ll come around. Eventually. I just have to be patient.”

  Walt tugged on Gideon’s pant leg and pointed at his new acquisition. Scooping the little boy into his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Gideon walked to the corral, giving the animal plenty of buffer. Evelyn stopped beside them.

  “Beautiful animal,” she said with a touch of awe. “Isn’t he rather large?”

  “Yep. Rowdy, too.” He touched a finger to Walt’s chest. “Thunder is a pretty horse to look at, isn’t he?”

  The boy nodded, his big eyes fixated on Thunder.

  “Well, he’s not as nice as he looks. Not yet, anyway. Thunder hasn’t been trained. He’s used to running free and doing as he chooses, which means he doesn’t like being cooped up in that corral. I’ll have to teach him to obey my commands, but until then, I want you to stay away from him. If you want to look at him, I’ll bring you over, but don’t come by yourself, okay?”

  Beneath the fall of raven hair, Walt’s thin brows wrinkled. He wants to ask questions, Gideon thought, silently urging the boy to speak. When his little mouth pursed and he merely nodded, Gideon experienced a sharp prick of disappointment. A side glance at Evelyn revealed her mirroring disquiet.

  Please, God, restore this boy’s ability to communicate. I can only imagine the worry and uncertainty Evelyn must be feeling. If Maggie had clammed up for days on end, I would’ve pulled my hair out in frustration.

  The prayer came naturally, his concern for Walt edging out the anger he felt whenever his thoughts turned toward his Maker.

  Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to visualize his little girl healthy and happy, the blond ringlets and flushed cheeks and blue eyes full of laughter. The pain and grief were still there, still sliced deep like a razor-sharp ax, but they didn’t threaten to cut him clean in two like before.
Could it be due to Evelyn and Walt’s presence?

  A tiny, cool hand pressed against his cheek, and he opened his eyes and looked directly into innocent brown pools of curiosity. He smiled, wondering how the boy viewed him. As his mother’s friend? As another uncle? As a father figure?

  Whoa. Forget that last one. Fatherhood was not in his future.

  He intercepted a tender smile on Evelyn’s face as she watched the two of them, and his heart constricted. Regret tasted bitter on his tongue. Marriage wasn’t in his future, either.

  * * *

  Evelyn turned the thin pork chops and long wedges of potatoes sizzling in the cast iron pan with a pronged fork, willing it to cook faster. The flames licking at the kindling upped the midday temperature by ten degrees at least. Perspiration dampened her neck and face, the hair at her temples and nape clinging to her skin. The shade cast by the stable overhang did little to ease the spring heat.

  Balancing an arm on her bent knee, she twisted to see if Walt still chased Lion and Shadow in circles in the tall grass beyond the stream. She caught a flash of dark hair and tan shirt. He would miss those dogs once their case had been settled. She would have to ask Reid to look around for one. That is, if he agreed to help her.

  Her brothers were all furious with her. She was angry at them, too. Why couldn’t they at least try and have an open mind? Give the Thorntons a chance?

  Her mind turned to Gideon. The image of him holding Walt against his broad chest, a loving smile curving his mouth, had stayed with her through the night and into the morning. His fondness for her son filled her with a peculiar contentment.

  He’d surprised her by declining her invitation to supper. She’d thought to prolong the special moment. Evidently, his thinking had been clearer than hers. Evelyn needed to remember theirs was a temporary situation. Very soon the land’s ownership would be decided, and one of them would leave this place.

  The prongs sank into the potatoes, signaling they were done. Scooping them onto a trencher along with the meat, she wrapped a towel about the pan handle and set it off to the side to cool. Time to check the rolls cooking in the Dutch oven.

  Evelyn glanced over her shoulder again to look for Walt. When she didn’t see him or the dogs, she replaced the lid and stood, shading her eyes with a cupped hand. Lion and Shadow lay panting in the shade of a cottonwood. Walking to the corner of the stable, she searched the fields in vain.

  Her pulse skipped. Surely he wouldn’t wander off again. He knew how much he’d scared her the last time.

  Just as she opened her mouth to holler for him, a masculine voice beat her to it. Gideon. But he and Lars were busy raising the cabin walls higher. Why—

  “Walt!” The terror in Gideon’s voice turned her blood to ice.

  Whipping toward the new corral, she spotted Walt near the fence, frozen in fear as Thunder reared on massive hind legs, pawing at the air.

  Feeling as if she were in a dream, she tried to scream a warning but her voice failed her. Run, sweetheart, run!

  The ground seemed to shake as the stallion dropped to all fours and, tossing his head, made for the fence and freedom. Only, her child stood in the way.

  No. I can’t lose him, Lord! Evelyn forced her wobbly legs to move. Faster. I’ll never reach him in time!

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gideon sprinting for him. He was closer. He’d save him. Please, God, let him save him!

  * * *

  The instant he saw Walt at the fence and Thunder’s furious reaction, Gideon’s chest locked up with familiar fear. His muscles hardened into immovable stone; his feet restrained by iron shackles. He couldn’t move.

  For the span of a breath, he was back in Maggie’s room, kneeling by her bed and begging God to save her. Pleading with Him to take him instead. His wife had already succumbed to the influenza. Not his daughter, too.

  You still have a chance to save Walt.

  The nudge shattered the past’s hold on him. Walt. I’m coming, buddy. Gideon burst into motion, drawing on his strength and speed to reach the boy in time.

  Once again petitioning God for a child’s life, he watched in horror as Thunder reached the fence and the rungs fell apart as if made of butter. Wrong. Something was wrong. That wood should’ve held.

  Walt stood straight as an arrow, his mouth open, his face a colorless oval. He didn’t seem to hear Gideon’s shouted warnings. Pushing his legs beyond their endurance, he reached the boy in time to knock him to the ground and cover him with his body.

  The earth beneath them trembled, hooves crashing against the ground like thunderclaps. Then those hooves found him. Striking. Pummeling. He gritted his teeth as waves of pain washed over his back and around his rib cage. He fought the swirling blackness stealing his consciousness.

  Had to stay awake. Had to protect Walt. Please, God...

  As his vision faded, Evelyn’s frantic cries were eclipsed by a child’s voice calling his name.

  Chapter Twenty

  Evelyn couldn’t reach them. Couldn’t save them. Couldn’t stop the onslaught on Gideon’s exposed body.

  If only she had her gun, she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.

  Lars’s surprised shout filtered through her fear. Dropping a dish and cup onto the stream bank, he jumped up and ran toward them.

  “Lars, do something!” she called, her voice strange and unfamiliar, laced with desperation.

  She wrung her hands as Lars approached the animal, waving his arms as she’d seen Gideon do to get him to back off. The second Thunder stepped away and Lars seized his lead rope, she lunged to Gideon’s side and fell to her knees in the grass. His shirt in tatters and blood marring his skin, he lay still. Too still.

  “Gideon?” Her shaking fingers grazed a deep gash on his head. He didn’t answer. She checked his wrist for a pulse. There. Faint. Erratic.

  “We need Alice here now,” she lamented. Peering under Gideon’s large body, she saw small fingers clutching the grass.

  “Walt?”

  “Mama?”

  At the startling sound of her son’s sweet voice, she sat back, clutched her throat. “Walt, baby? Are you all right?”

  Lars appeared at her side, chest heaving with exertion. “Do not worry about the horse. He is in the other corral alone.” His eyes were solemn as he took in Gideon’s injuries. “Let us lift him so little Walt can wiggle free.”

  Taking hold of his shoulders, she and Lars carefully eased him up enough so that Walt could scoot out from beneath him.

  He threw his arms about Evelyn’s neck. “Mama! Gideon saved me from the big horse.” Drawing back, he looked at her with eyes full of worry. “Is Gideon gonna be okay?”

  Awestruck, she caressed his smudged cheek. “You’re talking.”

  His lower lip trembled. “I don’t want Gideon to die.”

  Air hissed through her teeth. She shot a look at Lars. “I’ll stay with him while you fetch Alice.”

  While she didn’t have the right to order him about, she refused to leave Gideon. Was determined to be right here beside him when he opened his eyes. Reaching out, she gently smoothed his hair from his forehead. He will open his eyes. I won’t consider any other alternative.

  With a nod of understanding, Lars leaped nimbly to his feet.

  “And, Lars?”

  He twisted back.

  “Please hurry.”

  * * *

  Hot pokers seared every inch of his back. His head ached to the point it hurt to blink. Each breath sent shards of pain ricocheting through his chest.

  The grass and soil beneath him had been replaced with an equally hard surface, albeit cushioned with thick quilts. Hay. He smelled hay. And oiled leather and horses.

  He was in the stable. Blinking, he tried hard to focus, barely making out the blurry cot legs
and base of Evelyn’s water pitcher table. Why was he lying facedown on the tack room floor?

  Walt. The stallion. The fence failing. Why had it failed? Was Walt okay?

  Sliding his hands beneath his chest to push himself off the floor, pain engulfed him in a fiery inferno and his vision blurred further. A groan slipped out.

  Skirts swished. The strong odor of antiseptic invaded his nostrils. Cool fingertips brushed his bare shoulder.

  “You need to lie still, Gideon. I’m tending the lacerations on your back.”

  Alice. Someone must’ve gone and fetched her.

  Evelyn. He needed to see Evelyn.

  He must’ve spoken aloud, for familiar black boots skimmed by an indigo skirt scooted into his line of sight. “I’m here, Gideon.”

  She knelt in the dirt near his head, her soft hand caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes, clinging to her gentle touch as to a buoy in the midst of a raging sea of agony.

  “Why—” He gritted his teeth as Alice swabbed a wound near his waist. “Why are you crying?” He’d heard the silent sob. Then a horrible thought struck him. His eyes flew open, and disregarding the consequences, he lifted his head to search her pale features. “Was Walt hurt? Where is he?”

  She swiped at the moisture on her cheeks, and a tiny smile flickered on her lips. “He’s fine. He’s outside with your brothers and Lars.”

  Gratitude flooded his soul, rendering him weak. Thank You, God. Thank You.

  “You know, I—” Dizziness washed over him, and he lowered his head so that his cheek once again rested on the patterned quilt. “I could’ve sworn I heard Walt’s voice just before I blacked out.”

  Her hand covered his and squeezed. “You didn’t imagine it.” Wonder filled her voice. “Gideon, Walt is speaking now. It was his worry for you that released him from whatever held him silent.”

  He hadn’t imagined it? Walt really had spoken? Tears wet his eyes. Thank You, Lord, for saving him in more ways than one.

  “I’ll need to cover these wounds to keep them clean,” Alice announced, her movements stirring the air as she stood and moved to the cot and her medical bag. “Then I’ll need your brothers’ help wrapping your ribs. From what I can tell, you have two broken on your left side and three on your right.” Crouching beside Evelyn, Alice leaned her face near his, her sympathetic yet assessing gaze meeting his. “How is your head? I stitched up the gash while you were unconscious.”