by Linda Ford
“They’re just caricatures. They don’t take long at all.”
“But they’re so good. It looks like you spent hours on them.”
“Nope.” He spoke with obvious pleasure at her admiration. “It doesn’t take any skill. Just the shape of the face and a few details. I used to do it in school when I got bored.” He grinned crookedly. “It got me into trouble often enough. Teachers didn’t like me not paying attention and they liked it even less if I did an unflattering sketch of them.”
Missy tried to imagine him in school, but he was so forceful and strong she couldn’t picture him as a child.
“Why didn’t you draw like this when we did our thank-you list?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I did something the children could relate to.”
It continually amazed her that he understood the children and their needs so well. “Do you do this often?”
He shrugged. “It helps pass the time when I’m alone watching cows.”
“Do you save them?” She wondered if he used scraps of paper and threw them in the fire when done. What a shame it would be to waste his drawings.
Another shrug. “I keep a few. Leave most of them at Stuart’s place.”
The friend who owned the ranch where he planned to go. Hearing his name reminded her of just how soon Wade meant to leave. All that prevented him from going immediately was the children, and he expected to have them sent to another family soon. He’d said he thought to get word any day.
She felt the disappointment in her chest. He’d never given her reason to think he might stay and yet she’d clung to that hope.
Would she never learn to guard her heart?
Yes, she would. She’d learn to be a secretary and take care of herself. She’d need no one and expect nothing from anybody.
“Now what?” Joey asked, pulling her attention to the children and their finished artwork.
“Now we write the details on the inside. Party at Eden Valley Ranch, Thursday, December 28 at one o’clock in the afternoon. We’ll put individual names on each one. I’ll help you write it,” she said to Annie, before the child could protest.
“I can write it myself,” Grady said.
“Me, too,” Joey echoed.
With much prompting, they wrote their invitations. Several times Missy and Wade glanced at each other, sharing their amusement and admiration of the children.
This was how family should be. The thought filled her with such longing that she ducked her head and pretended a great interest in arranging the pencils. Family should cherish each member. Caring for one another should not be a burden. Oh, if she had a family like this she would gladly serve them, wholly love them and enjoy every daily task.
However, this family was not hers. Nor would it be. She could try and protect her heart from the sorrow she’d know when they were sent away.
Or she could enjoy them for a time knowing it was temporary, knowing she’d miss them all like a giant toothache when they left.
All? Even Wade?
Yes, she admitted in the secret corners of her mind. She’d miss Wade. Hopefully she would forget him quickly.
She feared she wouldn’t.
“Can we take one to the Joneses?” Grady asked.
Missy brought her attention back to the children, had each write the name of the recipient on their invitation. Wade’s was chosen to go to Cassie and Roper’s children.
How Missy would like to keep that picture. Would Cassie think she had fallen for Wade if she asked for it back?
She had not fallen for the man. How foolish could she be?
After donning their winter wear they left the house in the direction of the Jones family, who lived past the other buildings.
Joey and Grady raced ahead, chasing each other. Annie hung back, holding Missy’s hand on one side and Wade’s on the other.
Again the notion struck her that this was how family should be. But before she could dwell on it, Annie dropped their hands and ran after the boys.
They passed the cookhouse, from which wafted the scent of cinnamon. “You haven’t had a chance to taste Cookie’s famous cinnamon rolls,” Missy told Wade. “You’ll get a chance on Sunday, after the service.”
“If I’m here Sunday.”
The reminder quenched every thought of sharing the upcoming day with him.
“Do you expect to hear from the Bauers by then?” She thought to point out all the reasons the couple wouldn’t come. It was winter. Fort Macleod was a two days’ ride away. It was Christmas season. The stagecoach wasn’t running. He knew all that and still hoped the Bauers would come. As if he couldn’t wait to send the children away.
Missy recognized that the resentment she felt stemmed from her own experience. In this case, she didn’t doubt Wade’s love for the children. It would be difficult for him to turn them over to the adoptive family and yet he meant to do exactly that.
“They seemed very eager to get the children,” Wade said. “I guess if they want them badly enough, they’ll find a way to make arrangements.”
With that, the subject was dropped.
As they passed the barn on one side, some horses were outdoors and ran to the fences to watch them. On the other side were two log cabins—one where Jayne and Seth lived and behind that, Sybil and Brand’s. Brand’s dog, Dawg, woofed at the children and ambled out to join their play.
Wade and Missy continued in mutual silence past the bridge toward the Jones house. Cassie opened the door at their knock.
“Come in. It’s so nice to have company.”
“We brought an invitation,” Annie said.
“It’s for the children,” Grady added.
Daisy and her sister and brothers joined their mother, crowding round. Annie handed the invitation to seven-year-old Billy, who was so impressed with being chosen to receive it that he puffed out his chest and read it aloud.
“A party! Can we go?” Daisy asked.
“Of course. It sounds like fun,” Cassie answered.
Missy wondered if it also sounded to her like a chance for some quiet.
“Would you care to come in?” Cassie asked.
Missy glanced at Wade. She’d rather hoped he would suggest a walk—just the two of them—but he nodded. No need to be disappointed, she told herself as her insides grew empty and needy. Maybe that was the root cause of her problems in the first place—always wanting and needing what she couldn’t have.
“Can we go out and play?” Neil asked. At twelve, he often worked alongside the men, but still enjoyed free time to be a child.
“Away you go, all of you.”
After scrambling into coats and boots, they stampeded outside. Soon they were all playing tag, throwing snowballs and chasing each other.
Cassie stood beside Missy and Wade in the doorway and watched them. She sighed. “I thank God every day for the gift of these young ones.”
Wade nudged Missy. She refused to look at him, knowing he meant her to realize that being adopted could be a very good thing for the children. Yes, she silently admitted, if they didn’t have family who were able to provide a home if they so chose.
Cassie closed the door and ushered them into the kitchen. Signs of a happy family life surrounded them. A doll sat on one chair as if waiting to be remembered. Four empty glasses were on the table. A collection of papers and pencils, plus an assortment of well-worn books filled a bookcase next to the table.
Missy looked about the room. It reminded her of how her home had been before her parents had died. Would she ever get over missing them? No, she wouldn’t. Nor could she hope to again find the peace and joy and love she’d known when they were alive.
She sat across from Wade, at Cassie’s invitation. Feeling as if her emotions would fill her eyes, Missy avoided looking
at him. But of their own will, they sought him out. She feared her hunger and hopeless longing filled them.
His blue eyes managed to say more than she could bear—understanding, a shared regret over what they had lost and were about to lose in giving the children to be adopted, and an echo of her own empty heart.
She’d lost her family. He’d lost his. Different circumstances but the same pain.
As Cassie made tea and chattered, a thousand things were spoken into the silence.
“Do you take milk or sugar?” Cassie’s words jerked Missy back to the here and now.
“No, thank you, this is fine.” She hoped Cassie wouldn’t notice the tremor in her voice. Or the way Wade looked at her, for that matter.
They drank their tea, ate a cookie and talked, though for the life of her Missy couldn’t have said what they talked about, so lost was she in the twirling confusion of her own thoughts. Why did she feel this particular attraction to Wade? Of course he was a handsome man, and probably drew women’s glances wherever he went. But it was more than that. More than the sense of power and purpose emanating from him. It was the way their gazes so often collided, the sense of seeing into his heart and having him see into hers and understand it. It was the way he treated the children. How even his drawing spoke to Missy in the secret places of her heart.
She glanced about, saw the invitation propped on the nearby cupboard, but could not bring herself to ask Cassie to save it for her.
Wade pushed aside his empty cup. “Thank you for the tea and cookies. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like for Missy to show me around the ranch. I’ve only seen the inside of the house and barn.”
“There’s a lovely view from up the hill. You cross the bridge and go past the wintering pens.” Cassie seemed pleased with the idea. “Don’t worry about the children. Daisy will keep an eye on them and so will I.”
They thanked her again and stepped out into the bright winter sunshine. Earlier Missy had hoped he’d ask to take a walk around the ranch. Now, though, she found it difficult to breathe, the air getting stuck at the knot in her throat.
A walk, just the two of them? What had she been thinking to agree to that?
Joey ran past. “Look. Thor is coming.”
She followed the direction he indicated. Sure enough, a deer trotted from the woods. She could make out a few spots.
Thor ran up to the children. Dawg woofed a greeting and then he and Thor butted heads playfully.
Thor bounced toward Grady. The deer and the boy soon engaged in a game of chase that had Missy laughing. She turned to share her amusement with Wade, only to find him watching her with serious eyes.
She couldn’t look away, trapped by the emotions she read. Her pulse bumped as if she’d stepped in a hole. Something inside her stirred to life, a feeling unlike any she’d ever before experienced. A longing that went far beyond wanting a home and acceptance. This feeling danced across her heart with a joy she could hardly believe existed.
“Look, Uncle Wade.” At Joey’s call, Wade slowly pulled his attention from her, his gaze clinging till the last second, leaving her breathless and a tiny bit afraid. He would soon ride out of her life and she’d be left with a heart emptier than what she’d grown used to.
She tried to shift back to who she was and what she’d wanted when she’d arrived in Eden Valley. She pressed her hand to the pocket of her dress beneath her coat, but felt no familiar rustle of paper. When had she last reached for that bit of advertising? Christmas Day? It seemed an eternity ago.
Wade chuckled at the way Thor chased Joey and then stopped, inviting the boy to chase him.
Thor would no doubt mature and leave the security of the ranch. The children would miss him, but he was, after all, a wild creature, not intended to be confined to a corral or even a yard.
Something about that thought seemed to warn Missy. She, too, must move on and follow her plan. Yes, she would miss the children and their uncle, but reminded herself that this was only an interlude.
She would do well to remember what was real and what was not.
Chapter Six
Wade watched the play of emotions on Missy’s face. He had experienced something between them that made his insides ache as though chilled by a cold north wind. It rang with familiarity, like a dream he’d once cherished. He’d even thought he’d achieved the dream.
He shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. But the action had little effect. He reminded himself of all the reasons he could not wish for such things, although he wanted them clear to the core of his being.
Nor would he give the wish a name.
Had Missy felt it, too? Was that what her serious look indicated?
He could not follow that line of thought. Instead, he watched the fawn and children playing together and remembered his intention to go on a walk with Missy. “Shall we cross the river?”
She nodded and fell in beside him. They retraced their steps as far as the bridge, then tramped across it, pausing momentarily to watch the water swirling past the icy, snowy edges. Soon it would turn cold enough to freeze it over.
There should be a lesson for him in that, Wade decided. Today the water flowed. Tomorrow it would freeze. Today he entertained hope and acknowledged soul-deep desires. Tomorrow he’d remember the reasons he must deny them, and his heart would again grow a shell of ice.
They ventured onward, past the wintering pens where many of Eddie’s prize cattle fed, while the main part of the herd ranged in snowy pastures. A bunch of pigs squealed and jockeyed for the best position at the feed trough.
Missy paused to watch them and laughed aloud as one pig was pushed aside and ran around frantically, seeking an opening.
Wade was so relieved to hear her laugh that without thinking of how she’d interpret his actions, he draped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her to his side. She hesitated, then relaxed there.
“I’ve seen cowboys at the table act like that,” he said, which made her chuckle.
She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. “Are you the cowboy who elbows the poor fellow aside?”
He fell into her gaze, like a man falling into a warm body of water. “I might be,” he acknowledged regretfully. “Sometimes the pickings are a might thin and if you let a greedy man at the food before the others, there’s not enough to go around.” Captured by the interest and encouragement in her eyes, he continued, though only about half his attention was on his words. The rest was on the power of her gaze. “I knew a man who would take about half of what was served. I’ve never figured out how he could pile so much on his plate and not spill it. Practice, I suppose.”
“They say practice makes perfect.”
He did not want to argue, but he knew sometimes all the practice in the world didn’t make things perfect...or even satisfactory. He ignored the thought, wanting to think only of this moment and the sense of camaraderie he shared with Missy.
She pulled her gaze away from his. “Did you want to go farther?”
“Sure.”
They continued on. The path before them was less trampled and the snow crunched beneath their feet. They climbed toward the crest of the hill. Missy watched the ground before them, picking places to step where the snow wasn’t too deep.
Wade kept his attention on their surroundings. “Stop.” He caught her arm and pulled her to a halt.
“What?” She looked about as if expecting some danger.
He pressed a gloved finger to his lips and then pointed to their right. Sitting on a branch not thirty feet away was a snowy owl, its beady yellow eyes watching them unblinkingly.
“Oh.” Missy pressed a hand to her mouth and gave Wade a look that signaled her pleasure. “What kind of owl is it?” she whispered.
He told her. “They’re the heaviest ones in North America.”
; Her eyes sparkled as she stared at the owl, which stared right back. Then it silently flew past them with a sweep of its mighty wings.
Startled by the size of the bird flying so close, Missy stepped back, bumping into Wade’s chest.
He caught her and steadied her.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Color stained her cheeks as she tried to right herself and pull away, but he turned her to face him and held her in the circle of his arms, looking down into her eyes.
Their gazes melded. The moment froze. His heartbeat ticked with urgency and hope. If he could stay here, alone in a snow-encased world with Missy, perhaps he could forget his past failings and simply live. He let her gaze burn into him, search all the hidden peaks and valleys of his heart, except for one corner—the knowledge of how he’d failed as a husband.
His resistance must have shown in his eyes for she blinked and pulled away. She turned and smoothed the fingers of her gloves. “Seeing that owl was special. I’m glad we came this way.”
He, too, was glad they’d come, though he wasn’t thinking of the route they’d followed. No, his thoughts went more toward the few seconds when he’d felt as if life lay before him, an open road that beckoned.
Missy took a step forward, giving him a questioning look as if to ask if he meant to continue.
He could think of nothing he’d sooner do at the moment than prolong this interlude, and fell in at her side. “Have you heard of John James Audubon?” When she shook her head, he told her about the man who’d studied birds and drawn them with such detail. “He hoped to draw every bird in North America.”
“Did he succeed?”
“I don’t know, but he drew a lot. He drew the snowy owl after observing it for a long period. He said he watched one at the edge of an ice hole waiting for fish to appear, and when they did, the bird caught them using its feet.” Wade spouted off information like a talking encyclopedia, but he couldn’t help it. Having Missy at his side, watching him as he spoke, unleashed his tongue in a way totally unfamiliar to him.
