by Linda Ford
She saddled her horse as he continued talking.
“He was watching me again today. I don’t know what he’s up to and until I do, I can only assume it’s not good. So be careful on the ride home. Don’t let your guard down for a moment.”
She stood before him. “Are you worried about me?” Her words were teasing.
He gripped her shoulders. “I don’t mind saying I am. There’s something strange about a man hanging about watching others.”
Her eyes filled with something he could only explain as longing, which made no sense so he dismissed the idea.
“I’m pretty good at taking care of myself,” she said.
He couldn’t seem to release her. He wouldn’t know if she got back safely until she returned the next day. It was a long time to worry and wonder. “I know you are, but if the man got the drop on you what would you do?”
“Shoot him.” She said it so matter-of-factly he laughed.
“What if he pins your arms behind your back?”
She scowled. “In that case he better be prepared for some well-laid blows from my boots.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Her eyes bored into his, demanding something he couldn’t determine. Shoot. What was wrong with him? Only one thing mattered to him—that she get back safely. And she wanted only to be allowed to continue her training for the show. “Promise!”
“I am always careful so you don’t need my promise.” Her grin seemed a little lopsided.
“Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you give it.”
She sighed. “Very well, I promise to be alert, to watch front, back and sideways, to keep my gun at the ready, to check every shadow, to ride like the wind at the first hint of danger…” She chuckled. “And to return tomorrow to put your mind at ease.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I know you’re jesting but if you do everything you said, I might be able to rest.”
She gave his chin a playful tap. “You’ll rest just fine.”
He caught her hand and pulled it to his chest. “Not everything is a joke, you know.”
Her eyes darkened. “So you say. You see that’s where you and I differ. I’m content to think life might be for fun while you make it a serious matter.”
He pulled her closer. “It is a serious matter.” The words growled from his chest. He half joked but only half. Then he kissed her forehead.
She jerked back. “What are you doing?”
Shock raced through his veins. What had he been thinking? “It’s what I would have done to one of the twins.” Though his concern didn’t feel the same. “Now go and be careful. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She stared half a second then swung into her saddle and rode from the yard at a gallop. At the edge of the clearing she swung Nugget around and had him rear up on his hind legs. “Until tomorrow,” she called, and with a wild whoop disappeared into the trees.
He sighed. So much for leaving quietly so as not to alert the man in the woods. Yet he grinned at the place where he last saw her.
She sure did enjoy life.
He sobered. Where did that leave him and the twins? He knew the answer. He’d lived his wild life and found it unsatisfying. Now he had the children to think of and absolutely no intention of repeating his mistakes.
*
Thanks to Abel’s overly developed sense of caution, Mercy’s nerves twitched as she rode through the lengthening shadows. She shivered and not because she was cold. If only she could remember when and where she’d seen that whiskered man. Again she scoured her memories and again came up with nothing but a vague sense of having seen him somewhere. He’d been on the edge of the scene wherever it had been. Sort of a fleeting figure. Much like he was now. She simply couldn’t place him.
A rustling in the underbrush sent her thoughts into a frenzy. Her arms tensed, her hand clenched her pistol. Then a rabbit hopped away.
See that’s what happens when you let fears control you. You start to see danger when there is none.
But she couldn’t deny a sense of relief when she broke into the clearing around the ranch. She shuddered. All those dark shadows had filled her with wild imaginations.
Sighing, she turned toward the sun tipping the top of the mountain peaks. Abel had intentionally stopped work early enough in the afternoon to allow her to ride back before the sun dipped below the mountains. At times like this, she appreciated his caution.
She exercised caution of her own the next morning as she returned to Abel’s place, though she saw nothing to make her suspect the whiskered man hung about. Perhaps Abel had been mistaken in thinking he saw him. But she doubted it. Abel was far too careful to make such mistakes.
She rode into the clearing and spotted Abel waiting outside the cabin.
He puffed out his cheeks when he saw her and stepped forward. “I don’t mind admitting I worried about you all night.”
“Really? So why did I bother to promise I’d be careful? Wasn’t that to ensure you wouldn’t worry?” She swung off Nugget’s back.
Abel did not move away, forcing her to stand toe-to-toe with him. “It didn’t work.”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
“No, because I don’t trust that crazy man out there.” He touched her cheek.
When had he gotten so free with his touches? Of course, he touched his children all the time. Guess it simply got to be habit. But why did she let it make her heart jump with eagerness as if hoping for more? The man out in the woods wasn’t the only crazy person here. She seemed to have caught the disease.
“I’m glad you’re here safely.”
Did she imagine his voice thickened? As if her safety really mattered? Well, of course it did. Who would look after the children if something happened to her? Braced by the thought, she edged past him and made her way to the cabin.
He followed right behind.
She hung her coat and hugged the children then turned to regard Abel. Wasn’t he going to work today?
He seemed to realize he stood at the door. “I best be on my way.” He jammed his hat on his head and left.
That afternoon Abel exacted another promise for her to be careful, but he did not kiss her forehead in his fatherly way. Good thing. She might have taken objection to continued familiarity. The disappointment edging her heart was only imaginary.
When she arrived the next day, Abel’s welcome was full of relief. “I won’t rest until I find out who that man is and what he’s up to.”
She was not prepared to let worry cloud her day. “Like I said before, he’s only a lonely old mountain man come down to avoid the early snowfalls.” She didn’t believe it, though. She’d never been in the mountains and couldn’t have seen him there. And she knew she’d seen him somewhere.
“Can we go outside?” Ladd asked after Abel left.
“I’d say so. We wouldn’t want to waste such a lovely day. Soon winter will be here.” She gave a mock shiver. “In fact, I was thinking we should have our treasure hunt today.” She’d let them create a map that would keep them close to the cabin yet allow them to explore as they followed clues.
Despite Abel’s opinion of her, she wasn’t so foolish as to wander into the woods with two children while a strange man was out there.
For the better part of two hours, they followed clues around the edge of the clearing. Finally they discovered the treasure—a bag Mercy had hidden. Inside was a small lariat for Ladd and a pair of fringed gloves for Allie. Mercy had also packed a lunch and blanket and they sat down to enjoy their picnic.
*
Abel whistled as he worked. Another pleasant day. Each one a blessing, allowing him to hope he might achieve all he wanted and needed to do before winter set in.
The only thing marring the day was the knowledge that a crazy man wandered the woods.
He quickly prepared a load of logs and headed back to the cabin, anxious for a cup of strong hot coffee. And a glimpse of Mercy and the children.
> He straightened and studied that thought. Of course, he wanted to assure himself they were all safe. No need to picture a welcoming smile from Mercy and a scheme of reasons to touch her, maybe even pull her into his arms. He’d allowed himself one brief kiss of her forehead. It meant nothing.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he dismissed the whole notion. How many times did he have to tell himself that she did not belong in his plans?
So he forced himself to unload the stoneboat before he went to the cabin. And if he crossed the yard with hurried steps it was only because he longed for coffee and cookies.
He flung the door open and ducked inside.
The place echoed with silence. “Hello?” The cabin provided no place to hide. He called out again, louder. “Hello? Where are you?”
He lifted a stove lid and saw glowing coals. Why had she allowed the fire to die down? Because, he reasoned, the day was warm. The pail of cookies beckoned from the shelf but he no longer imagined their sweetness, only a dusty dryness.
Surely he’d overlooked them. He turned full circle. But the cabin remained silent and empty.
“Mercy, Ladd, Allie,” he bellowed, his words reverberating in the room. They were gone. He grabbed the back of the nearest chair as his legs buckled. The crazy man in the woods had taken them. Just as he feared.
He raced back to Sam, grabbed his rifle and stared at the trees. Which way would he go? He opened his mouth to yell their names again, then clamped it shut. His call would only alert the man. Best he sneak up and catch him off guard.
If only he knew what direction to go.
He studied the problems for two seconds. Probably he’d head for the mountains. Having made up his mind, he headed west, moving carefully, pausing to look for an indication they had been there. He grinned when he noticed a broken branch. Perhaps Mercy had intentionally left clues.
Another branch led him to the right, as if circling the cabin. Had the man stood here, watched the cabin for hours? Maybe even days? The skin on his arms tightened at the thought.
He slowly made his way forward as he spotted a small footprint in the fallen leaves. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. And he needed the encouragement to keep going. As he moved, he prayed. God, keep them safe. Help me find them before—
He would not think before what.
Did he hear Allie’s voice? He straightened and listened. There it was again.
He crept forward. If he could surprise the crazy man—
There! Through the trees. Ladd and Allie sitting on the edge of a blanket. Where was Mercy? And the crazy man? His mouth dried so sharply he had to hold back a cough. The things the man might do to her…he dared not contemplate them.
He edged forward an inch trying to see her. Should he sweep in and snatch up his children? Would that put Mercy in more danger?
God, please guide me.
Something cold and hard pressed to the side of his head.
“Arms in the air.” A low, guttural voice half growled the words.
He raised his arms. How had it come to this? He’d done all he could to protect his children. Gone out of his way to live a careful life so they wouldn’t suffer the consequences of his choices. Yet he’d fallen into the hands of a crazy man. Who would look after his children?
“Turn around slowly.”
He hesitated, giving his children a farewell look. Be safe. Know I love you. Then he slowly turned. And gasped. “You!”
Mercy grinned at him. “You ought to know better than to sneak around the woods when there’s a stranger lurking nearby. I might have shot first and asked questions later.”
He stared at her. “I thought—” He rubbed at his collarbone. “I thought—” He couldn’t talk. His legs turned to weak ropes and he leaned against a tree. “You’re safe. You’re all safe.”
She nodded. “Told you to trust me. I’m not as foolish as you judge me to be.”
“I repent of all the times I said anything negative.” He closed his eyes and willed his heartbeat to return to normal but it refused. There was only one way to calm it. He planted his hands on Mercy’s shoulders and pulled her to his chest. “Just let me hold you for a moment.”
She leaned into his embrace with a little chuckle. “If it will make you feel better.”
He pressed his chin to her head. “It will.” He breathed deeply. She smelled of sunshine and cookies. And horse. A smell he no doubt also wore. “Do you have any idea how frightened I was to return to the cabin and find you all missing?” His arms tightened around her as he recalled the moment.
She sighed. “Someday you will learn to trust me.”
“It’s not that I don’t…” he protested, though he knew his worry seemed to prove otherwise.
“Yes, it is. But never mind.” She eased out of his embrace, causing his heart to clench. “Two children are waiting to see what I found.”
He nodded. He hadn’t forgotten them but now that he knew they were safe, he felt no urgency to join them. The thought made no sense and he pushed himself away from the tree.
She led the way to the clearing. “Look what I found.”
The children jumped up and raced to him.
“Mercy made us promise we would sit here and not make a sound until she came back,” Allie said.
“She gave me a rope.” Ladd showed Abel a coiled lariat. “She said she’d show me how to use it.”
“Look at my gloves.” Allie lifted the fringed pair for his inspection.
Being run over by a stampede of wild horses wouldn’t have made him feel any more confused. Just when he felt overwhelming gratitude for Mercy’s care of his children she did something to remind him of who she really was—a woman intent on living a wild life. He stared at the gifts, more than half tempted to order the children to give them back. “What are you doing out here?”
Both children talked at once.
He caught enough to understand they were on a treasure hunt.
“We were about to have a picnic lunch,” Mercy added. “Do you care to join us?”
The twins begged him to say yes.
He might have refused Mercy—or so he tried to convince himself—but he couldn’t deny his children. “You sure there’s enough for me, too?”
“We’ll share,” the children chorused.
So with more eagerness than he should allow himself, he sat cross-legged on one corner of the blanket while Mercy sat opposite him and the twins sat between them. A sense of peace engulfed him. “I really should get back to work.” It was a token protest. He had no intention of leaving them out in the woods even if they were only a few yards from the cabin. Nor did he have the heart to order them all back inside.
He knew he was in trouble when he allowed himself to ignore his sense of caution, but he’d deal with his failure after he’d eaten.
Chapter Eight
Who was this man? Mercy passed around sandwiches and freshly scrubbed carrots recently dug from the garden at Eden Valley Ranch.
Abel obviously did not trust her. Yet he’d hugged her and she’d let him, though she couldn’t begin to explain why. One minute he was all business, rules and being careful. The next, he plopped down to share a picnic right in the middle of a sunny day—the perfect sort of day for working in the woods.
Why had he hugged her so tight? And why had she let him?
Because it felt good and made her feel warm and secure and cared for.
She was indeed as foolish as he accused her of being. She didn’t need anyone caring for her and hadn’t in a very long time.
Except—a memory refused to be dismissed—how many times had she stood in a doorway observing her parents, wondering why they never seemed to see her? One time when she was about ten and far too old to act in such a way, she’d thrown a temper tantrum right in front of them. She only wanted them to acknowledge her.
Instead, the nanny had been summoned and Mercy had been locked in the nursery. After two days she no longer cared for anything but her
freedom and had stolen out the door as a maid came to change the bedding. That was the day she discovered the joy of freedom.
She didn’t intend to give up that joy for anything or anyone. Though, she allowed herself to confess, she’d discovered a different kind of joy in caring for the twins and seeing Abel’s gratitude at the meal she left prepared for him.
The situation was only temporary.
Besides, she’d seen the pained look in his face as he considered her gifts to the children. He didn’t approve of riding, roping or anything that seemed out of the ordinary and she had no intention of giving up her joyful freedom.
No sir! She didn’t intend to give up anything and if Abel thought a little hugging would change her mind—
Well, she knew how to correct that.
“Ladd, when we’re done here we’ll go back to the corral and I’ll show you how to handle a lariat.”
Abel choked back the last of his sandwich and bolted to his feet. “Mercy, can I talk to you private like?”
Taking her agreement for granted he strode into the trees.
She noticed he didn’t return to the spot where he’d hugged her and where she’d stuck a gun to his head. Not that he was ever in any danger. She’d heard him coming and gone to investigate. As soon as she saw it was him, she decided she’d show him who needed to be careful.
He stopped several yards from where the children watched with wide-eyed interest. “I don’t want Ladd learning silly rope tricks.”
She’d known he’d protest. “I didn’t have any such thing in mind. But he’s nine years old. He lives on a ranch in the West. Likely he’ll be around animals a lot. A boy should know how to throw a rope around a cow, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say he’s a bit young for roping cows.”
“But not too young to start learning.” Her challenge stung her eyes.
He scuffed his boots in the dry leaves. He jammed his fingers in his pockets.
“Surely you wouldn’t want the boy to grow up to be a sissy. Would you?”
He closed his eyes as if he was in pain and let out a long-suffering sigh.
