by Linda Ford
He shot two rabbits and dressed them, burying the entrails a few feet away, then put the rabbits on a spit to roast. A little later, he ate one and gave the other to Dawg.
He missed Ma.
Home. He dare not dream of a home of his own, shared with—
He hadn’t cried for a home since the first week after he’d buried his ma. And he never let himself look back and wish for things that couldn’t be his.
But tonight the ache would not leave.
Ma’s oft spoken words sprang into his mind. God will always be with us. Always guide us to a safe place. Always. We have to trust Him.
Tonight the words wouldn’t be dismissed.
He finally fell into a troubled sleep in which Pa and Cyrus chased cowboys from the ranch, while Brand tried to ride his horse through the crowd to someone beyond them. He couldn’t see who it was, but terror filled him at the thought of being unable to get to the person.
He yelled at his pa to get out of the way, and his voice jerked him awake. He sat up and rubbed his face. Sweat beaded his forehead even in the cool night air.
He reached for Dawg. Found the spot empty. “Dawg?”
His senses kicked into full alert and he grabbed for his pistol. A scream rent the air and raised the hair on the back of his neck. A cougar.
“Dawg!” he bellowed. Had the fool dog gone after the animal? Dawg loved to torment cats of every size.
Brand scrambled to his feet and jammed on his boots. He grabbed up a smoldering log and trotted toward the sound, his gun ready.
A deep growl came from the dark. “Dawg, you dumb dog. Get back here.”
Brand rushed onward, struggling to see with the help of the glowing hunk of wood. Despite his hurry he didn’t take any chances. He didn’t want to feel the sharp claws of a mountain lion tearing him apart.
Then Dawg yelped. An awful sound that tore at Brand’s heart.
He fired into the air overhead, hoping to scare off the wildcat. “Dawg, where are you?”
A whimper drew him in the right direction. In three more steps he saw the dog lying in a heap, his side torn by the mountain lion. Brand held his gun at the ready, shone his light in every direction, but saw no sign of the animal. He rushed to Dawg’s side and bent over him. He was torn up bad. “How many times have I told you not to chase animals bigger than you?” Had the smell of the rabbits drawn the animal? Brand should have been more careful about disposing of the remains, but thoughts of Sybil and home had made him careless. Now Dawg had paid for it.
The dog whined and tried to lick Brand’s hand.
“You just lie still. I’ll take care of you.” He gingerly picked up his pet and carried him back to the campsite. He threw more wood on the fire until flames licked upward. Surely it would be enough to scare off any wild beasts that might be attracted to the smell of blood, and there was blood everywhere. “You got yourself tore up real good, didn’t you?”
He warmed water and tried to clean the dog. “You’re going to need stitching back together.” He couldn’t do it alone. Dawg might be smart and cooperative and lots of other thing, but he’d react to being sewed up. He’d likely fight or bite or both.
“Don’t ya dare die on me.” He studied the sky. How long until morning? It was impossible to tell.
He made some strong coffee, drank two cupfuls so hot it burned his tongue. Tried to get Dawg to lap a bit of water, and waited for morning.
Then he would do what he must do.
* * *
Sunday morning arrived with late summer warmth, which did nothing to ease the cold tension wrapping about Sybil’s heart. She slipped out of the house just as the eastern sky flared with pink and orange and purple. She caught her breath at the beauty, then turned her steps toward Brand’s campsite. No, she didn’t hope he had returned. She wasn’t foolish enough to harbor empty dreams. But she needed time to adjust her thinking. She’d made a mistake by opening her heart to another man. Hadn’t she learned from Colin to be more cautious?
She certainly had learned this time. This lesson would not have to be repeated for it to sink into her heart.
She sat with her back against a tree and stared at the cold ashes of Brand’s campfire. Eddie expected him back to finish breaking horses and get his pay, but she didn’t think he’d return. No, she thought he meant to ride away and never look back. She’d known it all along and expected it, so she had no reason to feel torn and empty inside.
It was for the best. Now she could write his story and then forget him.
She wouldn’t ever forget him. Despite the knowledge that he was a man without a home who lived a life of danger—someone she would do well to avoid—she had only to close her eyes to see him. His strong features, his strong hands, his—
Oh. What was wrong with her? She knew nothing about him. Not even his name. He was only a hero in a story she continued to work on. She’d brought a copy of her notes with her and bent over the pages. Soon she’d have the story ready to send to the editor.
It didn’t matter that there were so many unanswered questions in her mind. The story was good without those answers, even though she ached for more.
A sound of horse hooves startled her from her thoughts. She glanced to the right.
“Brand!” She bolted to her feet. “You’ve come back.” Her heart threatened to explode. Her feet wanted to dance. So much for all her fine thoughts.
She sucked in a hard breath and pushed a boulder over her errant emotions. Her heart was locked solidly. Nothing would induce her to open it.
Brand didn’t even bother with a hello. “It’s Dawg.”
She strained forward at hearing the agony in his voice.
“He’s been hurt.” Brand dipped his head toward the animal cradled in his arms.
Sybil tucked her notes in her pocket and rushed forward. Five feet away she saw the matted blood on Dawg’s side. “What happened?”
“He figured he could take on a cougar. Dawg ain’t too bright at times.”
“How can you say that? Poor doggie. You were just being brave, weren’t you?” She closed the distance between them and reached to pat the dog’s head, then hesitated, not sure where she could touch him without hurting him.
Dawg whined.
“How bad is he?”
“Bad. I need help with him. You’re the only person he’s ever let touch him except for me. I thought...”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll do what I can to help, but I’ve never done anything with an injured animal.”
“You figure Eddie will let me put him in the barn?”
“Of course he will. You go on ahead. Don’t wait for me. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
But Brand stayed at her side as she turned toward the ranch buildings. Knowing Dawg needed immediate attention, she lifted her skirts and trotted toward the barn, pushing open the door so Brand could duck his head and ride in.
Slim stood before a workbench in dark pants and a light brown shirt, his hair slicked back, reminding Sybil it was Sunday and people at the ranch were preparing for the church service. “Is Eddie about?” She hadn’t seen him on the way toward the barn.
“Last I seen of him he was taking feed to the pigs.”
Even on Sunday, a day of rest, the animals had to be fed.
Slim’s attention riveted on Brand. “Can I do something for you?”
“Dawg is hurt. If you could let me use a stall to doctor him up, I’d be grateful.”
Slim nodded, but didn’t make a move toward the dog. Like the others on the ranch, he’d learned to keep his distance. “Far pen is clean and empty. Help yourself. I’ll let the boss know.”
“Thanks.”
Sybil followed the horse and rider down the aisle and swung the gate open. Brand slowly dismounted. Dawg growled a prot
est. “Sorry, old pal, but I gotta do this.” He looked about. “I need the saddle blanket for him.” He nodded toward the blanket still on the horse’s back, beneath a large saddle.
She assumed he meant for her to get it for him, but she had no idea how. “Tell me what to do and I’ll get it.”
“Take off the saddle.”
“I don’t know how.” Surely that was the weakest thing she’d ever said.
“Reach under and undo the cinch.”
Reach under the horse? “He’s big.”
“He’s used to it.”
Ignoring the trembling of her insides, she did as Brand directed. She should have followed Mercy’s example and learned to do these things for herself.
Slim moseyed to the pen. “Here. Let me.”
Gratefully, she stepped back. She couldn’t look at Brand. He’d think her useless. But she’d never ridden a horse unless it had been saddled and brought to her. As she considered the fact now, she vowed she would remedy that as soon as she had a chance.
She grabbed the saddle blanket and arranged it on a mound of hay Slim put out.
Brand gingerly lowered Dawg to the bed and knelt beside him.
Slim shook his head. “That don’t look good.”
Sybil caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It certainly didn’t. Dawg had been torn to pieces. It looked as if clotted blood and matted hair was all that kept him together.
“He’ll survive.” Brand made it sound like an order. “Most of it is only skin deep.”
“I’ll get the supplies.” Slim stepped out and returned in a moment with a box of veterinarian necessities, which he put at Brand’s side.
Dawg bared his teeth and growled.
“Sure ain’t discouraged his bad attitude.” Slim stalked away.
Sybil knelt at Brand’s side, resisted an urge to pat his hand. “What do you need me to do?”
“You want to hold him or stitch him?”
She gasped. “You’re going to sew him together?”
“Got to.” She felt a shudder race up Brand’s body. And this time she followed her instincts and pressed her hand to his arm. Later, she would return to her vow to forget him, to remind herself that he was leaving...that he was the sort of person she should avoid if she didn’t want her heart torn asunder again.
“You have to do what you can to save him. I’ll help.” She edged around to Dawg’s head. “I’ll hold him.” She gave Brand an unblinking look. “We can do this.”
He nodded. “He ain’t gonna like it much, and as Slim said, Dawg’s got a bad attitude toward most people.”
“He’ll be good for me, won’t you, Dawg?” She scooted closer, put the animal’s head between her knees. “Dawg, I’m here to help,” she murmured softly. “So is Brand, but then you know that. I expect it will hurt some.” She drew in a steadying breath. “But it’s only because we want to help.”
Dawg whined.
She cupped her hands over his head. “We’re ready.”
Dawg flinched as Brand pushed back the matted hair and dabbed away the blood. Then he threaded the needle and held it poised above the wound.
“He ain’t gonna like it.”
Sybil leaned over the animal. “Dawg, you can’t fight.”
“Don’t put your face so close. What if he bites?”
She jerked back, her eyes widening in shock.
“I’m just saying he’s a dog with an anger problem, and what I’m about to do is gonna hurt.” Brand’s jaw clenched and he began his task.
Dawg yelped. He snarled. He fought. He tried to free his head so he could stop Brand, but Sybil held him tight.
Brand pressed his knees to Dawg’s paws to immobilize them, and continued the job.
“It’s okay,” Sybil crooned over and over, not certain if the words were meant for Dawg, her or Brand.
Brand paused and wiped his forehead on his shirtsleeve. He threaded the needle again, clenched his jaw so tight the muscle corded and continued sewing.
Sybil’s arms began to ache from restraining the dog. Her vision blurred several times as she saw how much pain it caused the animal. She bit back a cry and had to turn away when she observed the agony on Brand’s face.
Finally he finished and put everything away before he fell back on his heels.
Sybil collapsed against the wall as Brand stroked Dawg’s head.
“I’m all done, old pal.” He raised weary eyes to her. “I just hope it’s good enough.”
“You did your best.”
“Thanks for your help.”
She nodded, her heart bursting with so many things she couldn’t even name them. Sorrow at the pain Dawg had endured. Admiration and pity at how Brand had done what was necessary. And a feeling that went deeper than any of that. A sense of having been part of something wonderful with a man who continued to earn her respect with his courage and determination.
The warning bells rang inside her head.
He’d won her admiration, even as he had earned her caution. He’d left once without a word. She knew he’d do it again, but she wouldn’t let him take her heart with him when he did.
He met and held her gaze. “You asked what was the hardest thing I ever did. I’d like to change my answer. This was.”
Dawg whimpered and they both sprang forward.
“Do you think he would take a drink?” she asked.
“Sure would be good if he did.”
“I’ll find something.” She got stiffly to her feet and went in search of a dish. She found a battered tin bowl on the workbench and stepped outside to dip it in the trough, then took it back to Dawg. As she sat again, she placed it at his muzzle, but he showed no interest.
“Guess he’s too exhausted at the moment.” She set the bowl where he could reach it.
“He’s a trooper.” Brand sounded weary. “So are you.”
She faced him, saw gratitude in his eyes.
His gentle smile curved his mouth and softened the skin around it. “You did real well.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You did the hard stuff.”
He turned his hand and caught hers. “We did it together.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t break away from his touch nor end the look between them. It went on and on. Reaching deep corners, touching tender spots, awakening places she’d vowed to guard. She fought to regain control.
Booted footsteps sounded in the aisle and she jerked her hand free and relocked her heart.
Eddie leaned over the gate. “Heard your dog met with some kind of accident.”
“A cougar.”
“Sorry to hear that.” The rancher made it sound like a death sentence.
Sybil immediately sat up taller. “Brand sewed him back together and did a fine job.” Her voice carried more assurance than it had a few minutes ago, but Brand wasn’t ready to give up on Dawg and neither was she.
“Linette sent me to say it’s time for church,” Eddie said. He addressed Sybil, then his gaze went to Brand, as if considering the situation. “You’re welcome to join us.”
He shook his head. “Thanks all the same, but I’ll be staying with Dawg, if that’s okay.”
Eddie nodded.
Sybil rose and brushed off her skirts. She crossed to the gate, which Eddie held open for her. Then she turned back to the man and his dog. “I’ll be back.” It was a promise.
He flicked a glance at her in acknowledgment.
As she accompanied Eddie to the house, she made a silent vow.
She’d help Brand with Dawg. But she would not let her barriers down again.
Chapter Eight
Sybil had to hurry to change her clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. It would take a lot of scrubbing and
spot removing to make the dress wearable again. She pulled a clean frock on and brushed her hair into submission, then rushed out to join the others as they made their way to the cookhouse, where church was held.
She found a seat beside Mercy and glanced around. The place was crowded. As usual, Ward and Grace and her little sister, Belle, joined them. Ward had once worked for Eden Valley Ranch, but moved to his own place after he married Grace. Ward’s mother accompanied them. She had her own house on their ranch.
Jayne and Seth came across the road. Cassie, Roper and their four children joined them from the foreman’s house.
Sybil adjusted her skirts and settled into a more comfortable position as Cookie rose to lead the singing. And then her husband, Bertie, spoke. Sybil had learned to appreciate his homespun talks.
After the service, as they left the cookhouse, she glanced toward the barn, but saw no sign of Brand. She couldn’t slip away to see him and Dawg as everyone but the cowboys made their way to the big house, where Linette would soon serve a meal. Sybil helped with the preparations. Then she sat through the leisurely lunch and listened to visiting among old friends.
Over and over her mind skittered to the barn, where Brand and Dawg sat alone. She sought to still her thoughts. It wasn’t as if Brand needed anything. Cookie had already sent over a plate of food.
Slim or one of the other cowboys would be about if Brand needed something for Dawg.
No, he certainly didn’t need her, and she would do well to stay away from him as much as possible if she meant to guard her heart. But she would allow herself a visit to check on Dawg, and because she had promised to return.
However, after the meal, there were dishes to do. And the usual Sunday afternoon activities, which she normally enjoyed. Only today they seemed to go on and on. Would Brand wonder if she meant to keep her promise?
She gave a mental snort. Most likely he hadn’t even paid attention to her words nor noted her absence.
Finally, the guests departed. Linette hid a yawn, then announced she’d have a nap, if no one minded.
“We’re perfectly capable of entertaining ourselves,” Sybil said. Now she’d be able to slip away to check on Brand. And Dawg, she insisted. “I’m going for a walk.”
