by Linda Ford
* * *
Brand left his camp early the next day, and made his way toward the ranch. Why had Eddie bought so many wild horses? Could be he meant to sell them at a profit. But even putting in long hours, Brand wouldn’t be able to leave for several more days.
A fact that should make him nervous, but failed to do so. And why shouldn’t he enjoy a few days of visiting with Sybil? He’d succeeded in revealing nothing that put either of them at risk. She’d never know his pa and brother were wanted men.
Brand might not be a praying man, but his heart murmured one prayer over and over. Please don’t let Pa and Cyrus find me here. Let me get done and leave before that can happen.
The tree before him made him think of Sybil’s story of two little girls playing on a swing. It would be a perfect tree for a swing.
He reached the corrals and roped the first horse of the day. Of necessity, he must keep his mind on his task or end up facedown in the dirt. Ruining not only his clothes, but also his reputation as the bronc rider who never got thrown off. But he still found space in his thoughts to replay every word Sybil had spoken the night before. As the day progressed a plan evolved.
Partway through the morning, Sybil stepped to the fence and watched him. He nodded once in her direction, then forced himself to concentrate. Although he tried to ignore her, he knew the moment she stepped away. She and the other ladies went to the garden with baskets that they soon filled with vegetables. Then they returned to their various houses.
Only one other time did he see her, on the hill beside the ranch house, throwing out a bucket of water.
It was late afternoon when he turned loose the horse he’d finished working on. But rather than catch another, he went to the barn. With Eddie’s permission, he cut a board the size he wanted and chose a length of rope, then made his way to the tree he’d noticed in the morning. In a few minutes, he had a swing hanging from a branch.
He returned to where he could see the ranch house, and waited, hoping Sybil would come down to the corrals before suppertime. He halter broke a horse as he waited. Fifteen minutes later, she trotted down the hill.
He slipped the halter from the horse and turned it loose. This one time he would think about something besides work. Though he could never stop thinking about the Duggan gang. During the passing hours he’d convinced himself he would surely hear rumors of them long before they could reach this area of western Canada. Their reputation had a way of preceding them. He’d have time to ride away before they found him.
He was hanging the halter over a post to take care of later when he saw her approach the fence. “Howdy,” he said.
“Hello.” She glanced about the pen. “Are you done for the day?”
Did she sound surprised or pleased? It didn’t matter. “I have something to show you.”
Her eyes lit up, bright blue. “Really?”
“Yup.” He vaulted over the fence. “Come and see.” She kept close to his side as they crossed the yard. His grin grew to rival the sky for size.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He slowed, smiled even wider when she matched his steps. How was he going to surprise her when she’d be able to see the swing as soon as they passed Seth’s cabin? Only one way. Would she agree? “I need you to close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“All right.” She closed her eyes.
He swallowed hard. She looked as if she waited for a kiss. Every nerve in his body sent up a red flare. She was very kissable, but not by him. She was out of his class. She deserved better than he could ever offer her—a life on the run. Most importantly, if she discovered his identity, her eyes would snap open and fill with fear and loathing.
Nope. He’d sooner leave with memories kept sweet by hiding the truth.
“What direction am I to go?”
Her question brought him back to his purpose. “Straight ahead.”
She took one step and stopped, her hands before her. “I might stumble.”
He wiped his palms against his trousers and ignored the red flares of warning as he took her hand. “I’ll show you the way. Trust me.” His heart slammed against his ribs. Ironic assurance from a man hiding the truth.
But she rested her hand in his, following his lead without hesitation until they were within ten feet of the swing.
“Open your eyes.”
She did, looking at him, her gaze so full of sweet expectation that something within him wrenched, a fierce sensation of both pleasure and pain.
He forced himself to break away from her look, and nodded toward the swing.
She looked and gasped. “Where did that come from?”
“I made it for you.” He sounded too keen. “I thought of how you enjoyed swinging with Suzette, and thought you might still enjoy swinging even if your friend can’t be with you.” Did his explanation make him seem less eager? He didn’t think so.
She clasped her hands to her chest and laughed. “A swing.” Her eyes were awash with tears.
Had he made her cry? The thought slammed into him. “I thought you’d like it. I can take it down if you want.”
She caught his hand. “No. It’s perfect. I’m surprised and pleased that you would think to do this.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “Thank you.”
Pink stained her cheeks and she rushed away to try out the swing.
Heat flooded up his neck and stung his ears. If he’d known she’d be this grateful, he might have thought twice about putting the swing up. Shoot. Who was he kidding? He didn’t mind in the least. One more stolen memory. Based on hiding the truth.
What would she say if he told her he was a Duggan?
Would she laugh and say it didn’t matter? Or would she look shocked and refuse to speak to him?
He couldn’t risk it.
Sybil laughed, a sound of pure joy to rival the sweetest of the bird songs he often enjoyed on lonely evenings.
“I’d forgotten how much I like this.” She swung back and forth. Each time she did, their gazes collided.
Every lonely night, every cold morning alone, every goodbye rolled and twisted at the bottom of his stomach. Each glance from her tempted the feelings upward, as if they wanted release. He fought them back. He fought his own longings and wishes. He almost lost when she tipped her head back and let her laughter roll out in time with the movement of the swing.
A soft laugh came from his lips. He leaned back on his heels and savored the moment. The memory of this evening would have to suffice for the rest of his life.
Thor, the fawn that hung around the place, trotted toward him. Dawg growled, but at Brand’s command backed away and sat down.
The fawn saw Sybil swinging and jumped away in playful surprise, then chased her back and forth.
Soon Sybil laughed so hard she had to stop swinging.
The sound of their play attracted Billy and Grady, the two young boys who spent time together.
“A swing,” Grady said. “Who built it?”
“I did,” Brand replied.
Billy looked him up and down. “I thought you broke horses.”
Sybil chortled. “I guess a man can do more than one thing.” The look she gave him slid right past his brain and oozed into his heart like warm syrup.
Billy nodded. “I guess so. We used to have a swing.”
Sybil sobered. Her eyes dipped downward.
Brand tried to think why, but couldn’t.
She got off the swing. “Do you boys want to have a turn?”
Grady hurried to get on.
For the next half hour, Brand and Sybil took turns pushing each boy on the swing, at the same time teaching them how to pump so they could make themselves go high.
As the boys
grew more confident, Sybil and Brand sat nearby to watch.
“Did you wonder why Billy said he used to have a swing?” She told him how Billy and his brother and two sisters had been left orphaned. “Roper and Cassie found them and cared for them and later adopted them.” The foreman and his wife lived in a new house on the Eden Valley Ranch.
“It’s nice to know things work out well for some children.” Brand managed to keep his voice from showing any regret that he had not been so fortunate. But it hadn’t been so bad. He’d had a mother who cared for him, prayed for him and protected him to the best of her ability.
“Supper!” The call came from up the hill on one side and within seconds echoed from Roper’s house.
“Coming,” the children called, and scampered away.
“I have to go, too.” Sybil smiled at Brand. “You’re welcome to join us for a meal.”
He hesitated a heartbeat, then shook his head. He had already crossed too many of his boundaries. “I’ll be going.”
Her smile lingered. “I can’t thank you enough for the swing. It will provide hours of pleasure not only for me but for the others.” She brushed her hand over his arm. “Brand, you’re a good man.” Then she turned and skipped toward the ranch house.
He stared after her, his heart swelling until it crowded against his ribs. She’d said he was a good man. Then he snorted. Brand, it don’t matter whether or not you’re a good man. You are a Duggan.
Five hundred dollars. Dead or alive.
Sooner or later someone around here would see a wanted poster. Then what?
Someone would come gunning for him. But worse, far worse, he’d put Sybil in the way of danger simply by allowing a friendship between them. Danger from the Duggans. Danger from bounty hunters.
Would she believe him guilty?
Perhaps he would come right out and tell her who he was. How would she react?
He slapped his forehead. It was bad enough that he sat about expecting a woman to feed him. But now he’d crossed a line, thinking he could get away with admitting he was a Duggan. No one would believe him innocent, and just being associated with him put Sybil at risk. Cyrus wouldn’t hesitate to harass or threaten her simply to get at Brand.
He knew what he must do. He returned to his campsite, saddled his horse, threw his saddlebags on the back and swung up. “Come on, Dawg.” He clamped his teeth together so hard his whole head hurt. But a man must do what a man must do.
This time he didn’t leave solely to protect himself from the noose. He left to protect Sybil from the Duggan gang.
Chapter Seven
Sybil did her best to hide her pleasure throughout the meal. If she gave it free rein she would smile from ear to ear and doubtless bring probing questions from her friends.
She stilled her impatience as they lingered over the meal and then did dishes at what seemed a leisurely pace.
All the while, her heart danced. Brand had made a swing for her. A sweet gesture that healed a deep fracture in her heart. As he’d said, she had been robbing herself of sweet memories because of the sadness when they came to an end. Every time she sat on the swing she would remember the joy of her friendship with Suzette.
And something more—a growing friendship with Brand.
What about your vow to never get close to someone again?
I haven’t forgotten.
Seems you might be getting a little too fond of a certain cowboy. Have you forgotten Colin?
Of course not. I don’t plan to be hurt again.
But she couldn’t stop the smile that wrapped around her heart.
“I’ll take a plate of food to Brand if you like,” she told Linette, keeping her voice flat, as if it didn’t matter if someone else took it.
“I do wish that man would either join us or go to the cookhouse,” Linette said. “It bothers me to think of him spending every meal by himself.”
Mercy snorted. “He’s had company every evening since he got here. Sybil sees to that.”
Sybil couldn’t take offense at her friend’s comment, because it was true. “Do you want to take the food to him tonight? I have no objection.” After all, as her inner voice had reminded her, she didn’t intend to get too fond of the man.
“I’ll let you do it.”
Mercy waited as Sybil filled a plate and covered it, then accompanied her down the hill. Seems Brand would have two women visiting him tonight.
Not that Sybil had any objection. Only she didn’t quite convince herself of the truth of those words.
“I suppose you’ve been learning lots about our mysterious cowboy,” Mercy said. “Where’s he from? Where does he plan to go? What’s his name? I can hardly wait to read your story. Will you let me read it before you send it?”
“I’m still working on it. He isn’t too eager to reveal details.” And yet she felt she’d learned so much about him. His caring mother, his Christian upbringing, his tenderness and consideration. “He built a swing.” She pointed to it.
Mercy gave a low whistle. “The children are going to enjoy that.” She shook her head. “Seems a strange thing for him to do. Kind of out of character.”
“I guess it depends on how you judge his character.”
“I see him as a tough loner, likely with a dark secret that drives him.” She turned to squint at Sybil. “Are you softening the man?”
Sybil widened her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.” But the idea pleased her.
Mercy laughed and patted Sybil’s hand. “You go soften him up some more. Maybe you can convince him to settle down. I’ll see you later.” She turned toward Jayne’s cabin and Sybil continued onward.
She stepped into the clearing and looked to where he usually sat. “Brand?”
She swept her gaze around the clearing. No dishes. No Dawg. No Brand. Nothing. She bent over the ashes. Cold as creek rocks. She straightened. “Brand?”
His name echoed
“Brand, where are you?” She crossed the clearing and pushed through the trees to another opening that allowed her a good view to the north and west. Nothing moved except the leaves, the birds and the grass.
She retraced her steps. Surely she’d missed something to indicate where he was. She poked through the flattened grass and parted the nearby branches.
Finally she sank to the ground and faced the truth.
He was gone.
Her heart shuddered.
Not a word of goodbye.
How could it be? Less than two hours ago they had shared a special moment. Why, she’d even dared kiss his cheek.
Was that it? Did he find her too bold? Did he not want affection?
A calming thought intruded into her shock. Maybe he’d decided to join the others at the bunkhouse.
Maybe—a grin exploded on her face—maybe her sign of affection had persuaded him to abandon his reclusive ways.
She jumped to her feet, grabbed the plate, which she’d momentarily forgotten, and raced toward the ranch.
She passed Jayne’s cabin and skidded to halt. Sybil could hardly rush up to the bunkhouse and ask if Brand was there. She spied Eddie talking to Slim by the corrals. She shifted direction and went toward them, standing back and waiting for a chance to talk to Eddie alone.
“Okay, boss.” Slim tipped his hat toward Sybil as he left.
“Do you need something?” Eddie said.
“I took a plate of food out to Brand.”
Eddie studied the still full plate. “I take it he wasn’t hungry.”
“Uh...” Wasn’t this where Eddie said Brand had eaten at the cookhouse? “He wasn’t there. I thought—” She glanced toward the bunkhouse. “Maybe he joined the others.”
“No. I’m sure Slim would have said so if he did. However, he can’t have gone far
. He still has horses to break and he hasn’t picked up his pay. Maybe he’s gone hunting.”
“I suppose.” But she didn’t believe it. Why would he take every belonging if he’d only gone hunting?
She scraped the food off the plate into the cat dish outside the barn, and half a dozen cats raced over to enjoy the meal Brand had missed. Mercy was likely still visiting Jayne, but Sybil didn’t want to talk to anyone, and she slipped into the big house. She tiptoed past the living room so as not to attract Linette’s attention. She passed the library full of books, a big desk and several reading chairs without even glancing in, and crossed the kitchen to her room, where she wilted at the edge of the bed. Despite all her fine talk to the contrary, she had let herself care too much.
When would she ever learn to guard her heart?
* * *
Dawg followed Brand, but as they put distance between them and the ranch, the dog stopped, turned back and whined.
“Yeah, I hear ya. She made me want to stay longer, too, but we just can’t.” He faced forward. Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep ahead of the Duggans.
As he rode into the afternoon sun he repeated the same words over and over. But every few minutes, other thoughts intruded.
Thoughts of a golden-haired miss whose blue eyes smiled so gently at him he could almost believe she cared. But how could she? She knew nothing of him. Certainly not who he really was. Even if for some reason he stayed, he could never tell her and lose the memory of that smile.
What would it be like to return home every day to a smiling welcome?
Brand Duggan would never know.
He found a spot with a rock cliff at his back. It wasn’t a bad place as far as campsites went. He’d had worse. Tomorrow he would ride to the west, find a place deep in the mountains to hole up for the winter.
But tonight his bones ached for something more comfortable than a campsite. He ached for a place of warmth and welcome and belonging.
