by Linda Ford
“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Jayne said.
“I think you’ll have to bottle feed him.”
“But—”
“It’s not that hard. Though I’m not sure who would have a baby bottle.”
“I’ll ask Linette.” She trotted up the hill and explained her need to Linette.
“I think there is a bottle in the things the Arnesons left.” She’d heard the story of the family who sought shelter with Linette and Eddie as they fought a fever. They died under Linette’s care. Her admiration for her sister-in-law grew as she realized how difficult it would be to watch people die.
Linette took her to a room upstairs and found a bottle complete with a nipple. She gave Jayne milk from the supply in the house and warmed it for her. Along with a warning that wild things often didn’t take to being helped.
“Seth said the same but like I told him, I have to try.” Calling out her thanks, she hurried back to the barn where Seth watched the fawn and cat in the stall. Smokey licked the fawn, which seemed to calm it.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said as they entered the stall and the fawn bolted to its feet. She handed the bottle to Seth and scooped up Smokey then sat against the wall. She crossed her legs and put Smokey in her lap. “Bring the fawn.”
He picked up the fawn and knelt in front of Jayne. He positioned the fawn so it sat with its head almost touching Smokey then offered the bottle.
At the first taste of milk, the fawn jerked back and fought. Seth let it struggle a moment then again stuck the nipple in its mouth. This time it swallowed a mouthful.
Smokey stretched up and rubbed her head against the fawn’s head. She smelled the milk and licked the fawn’s muzzle to capture the drips. The fawn calmed. After a few false starts the little thing managed to figure out how to take milk from the bottle.
Jayne beamed at Seth. “We might be able to save this little one.”
His eyes were soft green and full of hope. “Maybe.”
Maybe the fawn would be a source of healing for both of them. She could save something instead of standing helplessly by without taking any action. He could accept that some risks were worth taking.
Was this what the women meant when they said bad things had a place in life, bringing blessings in their wake?
“This morning I asked the women how they explained God’s love when bad things happen. They all said good often came from bad. Or at least they can be used for our good.”
He considered her words. “We can use bad things for our good. I like that. But is it something we do, or God does?”
Jayne contemplated his question. She liked how he pushed her to think about serious things. “I’d have to say I think it’s both. God can use it but we have to cooperate.”
“I like that, too.” He smiled. “Like getting shot. That’s a bad thing. But it’s allowed me to meet you and a very smart cat.” Smokey meowed.
His eyes darkened to deep green as he smiled at her.
She couldn’t tear herself from his gaze. Couldn’t think of a rational thing to say as her heart leapt within her chest. Something shifted inside her. A thought sang through her head, echoing what Grace had said. I’d go through it again if it brought us together. She realized how foolish were her thoughts. How far from reality…even possibility.
She jerked her eyes free and stared down at the fawn, who had stopped struggling, and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Seth was only the cowboy she’d shot. He was here only because he felt a responsibility to make sure she didn’t shoot someone else. He couldn’t wait to leave.
And yet he’d said he was glad to have met her. Maybe he only meant because it gave him a chance to give her shooting lessons. Seems his biggest concern was to avoid another accident.
She stared at his hands cradling a tiny fawn and feeding it milk from a bottle. No, he hadn’t exactly said he was glad. Simply that his being shot had allowed him to meet her.
So what did he mean?
She stole a glimpse from under the protection of her eyelashes. His expression gave no clue. She sighed. She was simply a responsibility to him.
The fawn tossed its head. Seth released it to run to the corner and Smokey meandered over to join it.
Jayne scrambled to her feet.
She didn’t want to be a responsibility. She wanted—
She didn’t know what she wanted. Fresh air and sunshine would do at the moment and she rushed out of the barn and stared into the cornflower-blue sky.
Would anyone ever view her as capable? A person to be valued?
And protected? asked a little voice.
Was it possible to have both?
She didn’t know and her inner turmoil left her restless.
Chapter Eleven
Seth tidied the little pen where he’d put the fawn. He hadn’t had a chance to ask Eddie if he minded. If he objected, Seth would find another place for him. Now that he’d started caring for the fawn, he meant to do his best to see the animal survived.
He put away the vet supplies Jayne had brought him. Why had he said that meeting her was a good thing? The words had come to his mouth without forethought. But now that they were spoken, he had to consider them.
Was meeting her a good thing?
He tried to think how it wasn’t and smiled when he couldn’t come up with one reason.
Except the one he’d started with. His responsibility was to care for his pa. No doubt most people would think he could do that and pursue a friendship—or more—with Jayne.
Not that he didn’t consider the possibility. If she would let him, he would offer her protection. But she didn’t want that.
Jayne was headstrong. Determined. Seeking independence.
Seth had had his share of dealing with headstrong people who left him to carry on in their wake.
He had nothing to offer her but some shooting lessons.
He left the barn and returned to the oat bin. He’d finished repairing the wall but now circled it, putting in a nail here and there, tightening the hinges on the door, looking for things to fix.
He was a fixer. A protector. He took his responsibilities more seriously than most. A long time ago he had promised himself he would not take on more unless they helped him with his current responsibilities.
He saw no reason to change that decision. Jayne was right. He was reluctant to take risks. Best he could do was make sure Jayne could handle a gun well enough to not be a threat to others and also be able to take care of herself should the need arise.
He would have avoided her the rest of the day but she assumed he would help her care for the fawn, so after supper he accompanied her back to the barn. Eddie had assured them he had no objection to the fawn in the barn.
“I asked around,” Jayne said. “The consensus is he needs a good bottle feeding twice a day.”
He’d pulled a carrot from the garden and broke it into pieces. “Let’s see if he can eat some of this.” He dropped a bite into the fawn’s mouth and it chewed it. “That’s good.”
They fed the fawn another bottle.
Jayne practically glowed. “I believe he’s going to make it. What are we going to call him?”
Seth’s insides tightened. Naming the fawn only made it more painful should anything happen to it. But he couldn’t quelch Jayne’s joy. “How about Deer?”
When she laughed, the skin around her eyes crinkling like rays of sunshine, his insides turned to warm honey.
“You’re too funny. No, we need something strong and bold.”
“You mean like Thor, the god of thunder.” He meant to be amusing but saw a flash in her eyes and guessed she liked the idea.
“Thor. Suits him, don’t you think?”
He pretended to give the tiny critter closer study then shook his head. “I really can’t picture him throwing bolts of lightning across the sky. Nope. Doesn’t look like a Thor to me.”
“It’s only figurative.” She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Gives him something to
live up to.”
He grabbed his shoulder and groaned. “First, you shoot me and now you beat me.”
She giggled. “As if that hurt.”
No, it wasn’t pain he felt but the feeling that gripped his heart had the same kind of power to drive all other thoughts from his mind.
A few moments later he realized the fawn had finished eating and Jayne had scrambled to her feet.
His thoughts righted and he landed back in his sensible place.
They left the barn.
Seth wasn’t eager to put an end to the evening nor did she appear to be in a hurry to return to the house. By mutual consent they wandered along the roadway between the buildings.
“It’s such a lovely evening,” she murmured, plucking a blade of grass. “This country is so different from England.”
“How so?” He’d never been anywhere but the west.
“It’s big. So sunny and bright. And the mountains. Have you seen anything like them?”
“I’ve seen them all my life but have to say I never tire of them.”
She stared to the west where the sun leaned toward the mountain peaks, filling the valleys with sharp shadows. “Linette says she could never get tired of them, either. Have you noticed her paintings?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“The paintings in the living room are hers.”
He had seen the stunning pictures. “I didn’t realize she’d done them.”
“Linette has painted many pictures but my favorite is in the library. It hangs over Eddie’s mahogany desk. A winter scene with snow-covered mountains and snow-draped evergreens.” Her voice had grown dreamy as if she had slipped away to another place.
He’d noticed the painting and thought it beautiful.
“It’s full of strength. When I look at it I think of a Bible verse I learned as a child. ‘Seek the Lord and his strength.’” She shifted her gaze from the mountains to Seth.
“If God made the mountains and holds the world in place by His power, He can surely carry me through the trials of my life even when I don’t understand what’s going on.” She shook her head. “And I so often struggle to understand life.”
Her eyes widened and she pressed her fingers to her chin. “Why, of course. It’s like the mountains. Even when storm clouds obscure them they are still there. Still solid.”
The peace flooding her face made Seth wish he could as easily find the assurance she had. But a rock of disbelief had settled into his heart after Frank’s death and over the years had grown more solid. More fixed. He figured it would take four teams of strong oxen to budge it now.
Jayne curled her hand around his elbow. “Let’s walk. It’s too pleasant an evening to waste.”
They crossed the bridge, went past the pens, paused to watch the pigs for a moment then climbed the hill beyond and stopped under a tree that provided a view to the west.
Jayne sighed and leaned toward him. Or did he only imagine it as a queer mingling of hope and yearning filled him? But a dark shadow hovered, an accumulation of fear and caution. His arms ached to pull her close and hold her next to his heart and let his skin absorb her calm assurance. But his head told him he could never give her what she needed—protection, security, safety. He feared failure.
“The sky is alive with fire,” she murmured.
The sun dipped behind the mountain peaks, fracturing light into a hundred bright ribbons of color.
“It makes me wish I could paint like Linette.”
If she hadn’t been leaning close he would not have noticed her stiffen.
“I wish I could do anything useful and practical.” She tipped her chin up in a gesture of determination. “And I will learn how.”
He longed to be able to say something that would encourage her, make her see her strengths and abilities. Slowly, the words coming haltingly, he spoke. “Jayne, don’t sell yourself short. What counts is what’s inside you, not what your hands can do. That, you can learn. After all, no one was born knowing how to rope or ride or bake bread.”
She turned her face up to him. The deep hunger in her eyes squeezed his heart.
“What if what’s inside is fear and cowardice?”
He touched her chin and smiled into her eyes, lost in their chocolate depths. “No coward would cross the North American continent nor pick up a gun and learn to shoot it after seeing the death and destruction it can cause.” He trailed his finger along her jawline, marveling at the softness of her porcelain skin. “Fear is a good thing. It protects us from danger. Assessing fear and confronting it takes courage. You, Jayne Gardiner, have shown that kind of courage over and over.”
She cupped his hand, stilling his fingers against her cheek. Her eyes filled with warmth and appreciation and drew him into her thoughts.
He swallowed hard. Tried to assess what was happening. Where would this go? But he couldn’t think past the feel of flesh on flesh, his hand on her cheek. He couldn’t reason beyond the look in her eyes.
“Seth Collins, you are a very kind and generous man. No one has ever said anything like that to me. It makes me feel…” She gave a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “It makes me feel strong and…” She swallowed hard and her eyes grew wide. “Never mind.”
She didn’t move but he felt her withdrawal as thoroughly as if she’d shouted it in his ear.
He slipped his hand to his side.
She put the space of a foot-long ruler between them.
Yet neither made any motion toward returning to the ranch. Instead, they continued to watch nature painting the sky in bright colors.
Distant sounds reminded him of a world beyond this place. A horse neighed. In the trees behind them, birds cooed. A noisy crow cawed as it flapped by. If he really listened, he could even hear the rippling of the river.
A breeze caught a strand of Jayne’s hair and blew it across her cheek. He lifted his hand, thinking to tuck it into place, but she caught it herself.
She didn’t need him. She had Eddie and back in England, her father. Moreover, she meant to become independent.
And he did not welcome more responsibilities. It should have been all the reason he needed to end this time with her. Yet he didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. He wasn’t ready to return to the narrow life he’d built for himself and so he remained motionless and silent, drinking in the view as his eyes swept the ranch.
Beside him, Jayne seemed almost worshipful as she observed the sunset.
Then she let out a breath that seemed to come from the very soles of her feet. She turned and smiled at him. “Wasn’t that wonderful? I feel renewed, refreshed.” Her eyes blessed him and he knew a soul-satisfying sense that he’d had a part in making the evening special.
They turned and made their way back to the ranch, though she didn’t seem in any more of a rush to end the evening than he.
They reached the bridge and she stopped to lean her arms on the side rails.
He hesitated, having no fondness for rivers. But he couldn’t resist Jayne’s company and joined her, elbow to elbow.
Evening shadows filled the water. Dark. Murky. Unlocking his forbidden memories. Giving them life.
“I had a brother. Frank. He was two years older than me. We were very close. Always watching out for each other.” His voice caught and he couldn’t go on.
She pressed her hand to his arm. “What happened to Frank?”
“We had a friend, Sarah. She lived across the road and spent a lot of time with our family.” Memories came in a flood. “We almost grew up together. Mostly she was my friend and Frank put up with her. Then one day—”
She slipped her hand down his arm and tucked it into his curled fingers. He held on to the lifeline she offered.
“It was early winter. The ice had started to form on the river. The sun was so bright it hurt the eyes. One of those days when a person can hardly contain their enthusiasm and you begin to think there’s nothing you can’t do.”
She squeezed his hand.
&n
bsp; “Frank seemed to notice Sarah for the first time and it made him silly. Foolhardy. He dared us to slide on the ice. He knew as well as I that it wasn’t thick enough but Sarah laughed and he couldn’t be stopped. He went first. Sarah followed. I refused to go. I wanted them to come back. Stay away from danger.” He sucked in air that didn’t reach his lungs. Instead, it went to his head and made him dizzy.
Jayne gave an almost inaudible gasp. “No.” The word came on breathless air.
He nodded. “They broke through the ice. I grabbed a branch and wriggled out to pull them from the icy water. I managed to get Sarah to shore and went back for Frank but I couldn’t find him.” His voice scraped from his throat. “They found his body three days later. Sarah died the same day he was found. I did everything I could.” His jaw ached. “But it wasn’t enough.”
“Oh, Seth.” She shifted, wrapped her arms about his waist and held him tight.
He enclosed her in his arms and pressed his cheek to her hair, breathing in the scent of sunshine and hay.
“Seth, I’m so sorry. I know how much it hurts. How helpless you must feel. But you said it yourself. You did everything you could. You have to stop blaming yourself for their choices.”
He knew her words were right. In his head. His heart said otherwise. His heart blamed him. Said he should have stopped them. Should have saved them. You were taught to look out for each other. Pa’s words reverberated through his head.
“Why did they insist on acting so foolishly?” he said.
“We all make mistakes. I guess it simply proves they were human. Like us all.”
“Where was God?” He choked the words out. “Why didn’t He stop them from dying?”
Her arms tightened around him and she shuddered.
“Oh, Jayne. Here I am bemoaning something that happened years ago while you deal with something a lot fresher. Forgive me for being so selfish.”
“No. Don’t apologize. Your pain is as real as my pain. I think—” She tipped her head back to look into his face. “It makes me feel like you can understand how I feel and why I do the things I do. It makes me feel close to you.”
