A frown creased her forehead at the word your, but she turned to survey the room once more. “It’s fine.” She gestured to the room in general.
“Good. Then I’ll see you in the morning, all right?” He stared into her face with concerned eyes, making sure she really was all right.
She looked up at him questioningly, and not until he turned toward the door did she realize that he meant to leave. “Sky?” She suddenly knew she wanted him to stay.
He paused, his hand on the latch, looking back at her.
“Where will you sleep?” He shrugged.
“It’s pouring rain, Sky, and you don’t have any blankets.”
He merely looked at her, not saying a word, just shrugging again.
Brooke stared down at her hands, but when she heard him start to open the door, she blurted, “You can sleep in here if you like.” Her heart hammered in her ears.
He shut the door and leaned his shoulder into it, folding his arms and crossing his ankles casually, the toe of one boot resting on the floor. The light from the lamp cast golden highlights on his hair and he gazed at her, tenderness in his dark eyes. “You sure?”
Brooke nodded, looking down at her hands.
“Brooke?”
She glanced up.
“Thank you.”
She nodded and blushed. He could have forced her to do anything he wanted, but he stood here thanking her for allowing him to sleep indoors on a rain-soaked night.
He walked purposefully toward the bed, removing one blanket and one pillow. Spreading them on the floor between the bed and the door, he removed his hat, boots, and the belt that sheathed his knife and stretched out, hands behind his head.
Brooke stood still, watching all of this as relief flooded her heart. Sky was so understanding.
He watched her now, a slight smile playing on his generous mouth, one eyebrow raised. “Do you sleep standing up?” he teased.
She smiled wryly, shaking her head, and moved toward the bed, blowing out the lamp as she went.
Sitting out in the main room of the boarding house, Jed smiled as he poured himself another cup of coffee. It was good to know that he still had the touch. His cat-like ears had heard the bedroom door open and then close again, and now there was no sound coming from the hallway. He had stayed up, so he could offer Sky the floor of his room when he came through to go outside, but his plan had worked better than even he had hoped.
At dinner it was obvious both of the young people were hopelessly attracted to each other, but tension hummed between them like a tight wire. Time spent together would take care of that. He’d figured maybe they needed some help—a little prodding in the right direction. The rain had been a godsend. Finishing the last of his coffee, he headed down the hallway toward his own room.
Just inside the darkened forest east of town he crouched, cursing the pouring rain. He moved closer to the trunk of the tree under which he stood, trying to find the driest place possible. “Cussed country!” he muttered in disgust.
He thought he heard something and cocked his head like a mountain lion listening for the rustle of its prey. Yes, he heard it again. Satisfaction curled through him, even as he ran his hand over his face to brush off as much of the trickling water as he could. The Chinese party had begun. He moved deeper into the trees, picking up the reins of his horse and leading it away from town. He’d give it an hour, then he’d be back.
Hearing the first volley of fire crackers, Sky sat up. The rain still beat a tattoo on the roof, and an occasional flash of lightning lit the room with a blinding glare. He glanced over to see Brooke sitting up in the bed as well, staring at the window.
“It’s just a party. Sometimes they go all night. Hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep.”
She did not turn toward him but kept staring at the window. “Why are they having a party? You mean the Chinese, right?”
He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “Yes. They have them for all sorts of reasons. Any excuse to get together and have some fun. Someone’s birthday or anniversary. Or maybe someone found some gold in their mine today. Who knows?” He shrugged in the darkness. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”
Brooke gave a dry chuckle. “I can sleep through anything.”
“Yes. I seem to remember that now.” His tone was light and teasing as he remembered the first morning after their wedding.
He heard her get up softly and move to stand by the window. Lightning flashed, and he could see that she stared out the window with a faraway, frightened expression.
His heart beat erratically. He earnestly wanted to know more about this intriguing woman. He wanted to soothe away her haunting fears with a warm embrace, but to do so would only make matters worse. Instead he lay back down, face to the ceiling, and asked, “Would you tell me about your uncle? Jackson Baker, you said his name was?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sky saw her stiffen and he wondered again how cruel this man had been to his niece. His fists clenched involuntarily behind his head at the mere thought of someone mistreating her. Was her uncle the man who had left those scars on her arms?
He turned now to look directly at her. Arms crossed, she rubbed her hands up and down the sleeves of her dress. She had not answered his question. He would never sleep as long as the fireworks were going on, so he got up, lit the lamp, and went over to where she stood. Turning his back to the wall, he slid to the floor, looking up at her and waiting. When she finally glanced down, he patted the floor by his side. She hesitated, then slid down beside him, hugging her knees to her chest.
He kept quiet, still fighting the urge to draw her into the comfort of his arms. She looked so vulnerable, so frightened and fragile. Could the mere mention of her uncle bring such terror?
Lifting her chin from her knees she leaned her head back against the wall and began to talk softly. Her fingers, resting in her lap, played with a small piece of wood she had picked up off the floor.
“When I was fifteen—” Her voice cracked. After a moment, she went on. “My mother, father, and sister, were killed in an accident. Their buggy came too close to the edge of a road with a steep drop-off during a torrential rain storm, and the buggy rolled down into the canyon. It was a Sunday. I had stayed home from church that day because I didn’t feel well.”
Pain for what she must have gone through washing over him, Sky closed his eyes.
“I was sent to live with my uncle. Jackson Baker, yes,” she said, answering his earlier question. She paused, as if trying to decide how to finish the story. “While I lived with him, I learned a lot of things about life.” She stopped, but Sky had heard the bitter edge in her voice. She went on, steering the conversation away from her uncle. “Darcy, the cook, taught me all she knew and I would often visit the barn when Uncle Jackson was away. From the stable man, Solomon, I learned a lot about treating sick animals.”
“That explains why Bess’s leg has healed so quickly.” He peered down at her in the dim light. “Why did you only visit the barn when your uncle was away?”
She shrugged and waved away the question with a sad expression full of painful memory. “I lived with him for three years, and then he sent me here.”
Sky knew she would say no more on the subject tonight. He felt thankful for the brief insight into her past.
They sat in companionable silence for a while before she spoke again, turning her face toward him, her head still resting against the wall. “You have never told me how you came to this area. You said you grew up in Oregon?”
Sky brought his knees up, resting his forearms on them as he spoke, leaning his head back against the wall. “Yes, I did. My parents own a ranch in the Willamette Valley. My father is a lawman, and I used to be the Deputy Sheriff in my hometown but—” he shrugged—“Jason moved here. He was born in Pierce City during the gold rush days, and something brought him back. I felt like he needed some family near him and I had nothing really keeping me at home so I moved out here and sta
rted the farm. I’ve been here five years now.”
Turning her head toward him, she teased, “What? No girls back home pining away for you?” However, her voice still held a note of seriousness from the earlier discussion of her own past.
Sky stared at the dark shadow of the ceiling. “There was a girl, but she is not pining away for me. Her name is Victoria Snyder. We…well, I had thought we might be married one day, but when Victoria found out that I wanted to be a lawman, she decided I wasn’t the man for her. Her father was a sheriff. He died in the line of duty when she was just twelve and she promised herself that she would never put her children in the same situation. So…it was never meant to be. It has taken me awhile to realize that, but I see it now. I never loved her like—” Sky’s voice cut off midsentence. This was not the right time to admit his feelings to her.
Brooke didn’t seem to notice his last sentence. “She left you, huh? Silly girl didn’t know a good thing—”
She had started out with a teasing tone but suddenly her eyes widened, and she turned her face away from him.
Sky’s heart did a flip. He quickly turned his face toward her but all he could see was the back of her head. He leaned his head back against the wall and whispered, “Hey.” She turned back partway and pressed her palms together in front of her. He tried again, his voice still soft. “Brooke?”
She turned toward him, looking him in the eye. His focus dropped to where she nervously worked her lower lip but then snapped back to her blue eyes. “I think I would like you to finish that last sentence.”
When she didn’t say anything, he prompted, “Silly girl didn’t know a good thing…?” His eyes never left hers.
“…when she had it.” Her words were whisper-soft. She took a deep breath.
One brow winged its way upward. “Those are some very enlightening words, Mrs. Jordan.”
Brooke’s heart hammered in her throat, and a shiver ran up her spine. He said “Mrs. Jordan” like an endearment. I like that term just a little too much. Shrugging, she saw a way out. “I only meant that it would have been nice for her to have a lawman around if ever there was any trouble.”
His eyes sparked and his mouth crinkled in amusement. “Did you?” His tone dripped disbelief. He lifted his head off the wall. “Did you know you can tell if someone is lying to you by their eyes? Your eyes betray you, Mrs. Jordan.” He leaned toward her, all amusement suddenly gone from his face. “Would you like it if I kissed you?”
She inhaled sharply. His face remained only inches from hers, in anticipation of her answer. Her gaze involuntarily dropped to his mouth and she quickly looked back up to his eyes.
She wanted to say, “Yes,” wanted to with all her heart, but the word stuck in her throat. Blood pounded in her ears, and an icy fear clenched her stomach. Memories of Hank flooded her mind, but the brown eyes before her were nothing like Hank’s. These were kind eyes. Yet she knew that she must never let herself fall in love with this man. She had fallen too far in her life. She had been through too much to ever allow herself to love again. Tears began to glaze her eyes. Why hadn’t she met Sky a long time ago? Her baby would be alive today if Sky had been her daddy instead of Hank.
Sky leaned back slightly. “Are you afraid of me, Brooke?”
Her eyes dropped to her lap. She shook her head.
“Come here. Will you trust me?” He held out his arms to her.
She didn’t look up at him. Her courage would fail her if she did. Even against her will, she leaned toward him as tears brimmed over to course down her cheeks.
His arms, firm but gentle, wrapped around her as he pulled her against him. Her cheek resting on his chest, she let her barriers down. All the pent-up tears she’d bottled up for so long poured out onto the front of Sky’s shirt.
Sky’s hand smoothed her hair away from her face. Gentle rain pattered outside, a low thrum beneath the louder sounds of firecrackers and revelry. For the first time in years she allowed herself to feel the comfort another person offered. She sobbed for a long time, grieving as her mind wandered over the past few years.
Hank had approached her at a church social, but the meeting had been orchestrated by Uncle Jackson. She had not known that for a number of years.
At first Hank had been charming and kind. He was darkly handsome, and Brooke had fooled herself into thinking that he actually cared for her. They were engaged in December with a date for the wedding set in July. Once they became engaged, Brooke gave in to his constant badgering and moved in with him. After all, they were to be married shortly; where could the harm be? Besides, it would get her away from Uncle Jackson.
Soon afterward the abuse began. The first time he had been in a hurry to get to an important meeting. Brooke had cleaned the house that day and moved a stack of documents that he needed for the meeting. They were in plain sight, but in his rush he hadn’t seen them and lashed out at her. Grabbing her by the front of her dress he lifted her off the floor and shook her. “Where are those papers? You better find them, or I’ll—”
Brooke shuddered at the memory, her hand coming up to her throat as if to rub away the memory of her dress collar cutting off her air.
The gentle massaging of Sky’s fingers on her neck soothed her. “Shhh, Brooke, honey. You’re all right. I’m here.”
She was so immersed in the memories that she barely heard his whisper. When she became pregnant, she thought things would change. She told Hank of her condition and waited to see what would happen. He treated her well for a couple of weeks—like when they had first met. But one day, when he came home tired from work, he had found her asleep on the couch instead of in the kitchen finishing dinner. He shook her awake. “You lazy whore!” Dragging her to the kitchen by her hair, he shoved her on the floor. “Get my dinner!”
In that moment, she knew things would never change. She determined she would not let her baby suffer from his fits of anger. The next day she packed her bags and headed out the door to move back to Uncle Jackson’s, but Hank had come home early to apologize for his outburst the night before. Predictable Hank. She should have expected him. After every incident, he came home, said he was so sorry, that it would never happen again, and would she please forgive him? However, on this day when he saw her, bag in hand, he went out of his head. He beat her until she passed out. Then, seeing what he had done, he came to his senses and carried her to Uncle Jackson’s. When she came to, she had already been bleeding for a long time.
Uncle Jackson sent for the doctor. “Brooke was out riding and fell off her horse,” he’d told him.
Early that morning, she gave birth to a perfect, tiny, stillborn girl. Brooke could still see her ten tiny fingers and perfect little toes. Her downy little head had been full of dark hair, just like Hank’s. Brooke wrapped one tiny hand around her little finger and carefully wiped away her own tears where they fell on the baby’s face. If I could only have had just one day to show this little one how much I love her. The doctor wrapped the baby in a square of pink cloth and gently laid her by Brooke’s side. The funeral had been the next day. Hank hadn’t come.
Sobs shook Brooke’s body now. Wracking sobs.
She had told Uncle Jackson that she would never marry Hank; he could kill her first. A week later her uncle came home and informed her she was being sent west as a mail-order bride. All that had happened less than seven months ago.
Brooke had assumed God was punishing her by allowing her baby girl to die. Yet here she was, being treated with the tenderest kindness she had known since the death of her mother and sister. Had God’s hand been on her all along?
When she could stop crying, she sat up, placing one hand on Sky’s chest and looking into his eyes. Giving him a watery smile, she said, “I’ve soaked the front of your shirt.”
“I don’t mind. Somehow I think you needed a good cry. Do you want to talk about it?” He tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear.
She looked past him at the wall. Her voice was low and thoughtful. “I
do, but I can’t.” She found she was able to be honest with him. “Someday.”
He frowned slightly, still playing with the hair by her ear. “There was another man besides your uncle, wasn’t there?”
She blinked. How did he know that? She wanted to tell him. To get the whole terrible confession off her chest. To ask him why God had taken her baby girl. But something held her in check. Could she ever reveal that much of herself to this man? She rubbed her hands together in a circular motion.
He moved around in front of her, sitting cross-legged with his knees touching hers. Gently, he took her hands in his own. “You do this when you are nervous.” Placing his palms against hers, he interlaced their fingers, his thumbs tracing hot paths down the sides of her hands. “Why are you nervous, honey?” He bent his head down, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Will you tell me about it? Tell me about this man.”
She looked into his face and wanted to tell him. Yet a thought flashed through her mind. What will his reaction be when I tell him? What will he say when he learns that I have been with another man and borne his baby? I can’t bear to see the pain in his eyes or to think what the consequences might be. She shook her head. “I can’t, Sky.”
A momentary hurt crossed his face but was quickly gone. “Someday then. Someday. I’m committed to you, Brooke. Nothing you say is ever going to change that.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Nothing. Do you believe me?”
She nodded slowly, but in her heart she felt sure it couldn’t be true. “Brooke, look at me.” She raised her eyes to his. His mouth hardened into a determined line even as his eyes softened. “I love you.”
Her heart stopped and then started again with double-time rhythm.
“I didn’t want to tell you like this. I wanted the time to be perfect, but somehow I think you need to hear it. I love you. You were the one meant for me from the beginning of all time. I know it now. Why God chose to bring us together the way He did, I don’t know. I do know that you are the one for me. You remember that. No matter what you are feeling or what you are afraid of. Know that I love you.” He brought one hand up and cupped her face, his thumb trailing over her cheekbone, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned toward her. “Now, Mrs. Jordan, may I kiss you good night?”
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