Uncharted Journey (The Uncharted Series Book 6)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  Eva closed her office door to muffle the sound and sat at her desk. She drew her pen from its holder and wrote. Dear Mr. Colburn—

  A light knock rattled the door.

  “Come in.”

  Solo stepped inside, holding his hat in one hand. He smelled like the sunshine and had dust on his boots, as a man did when he’d worked the first half of the day. “I was headed out to the stables to check on the foals, but I saw your door was shut so—”

  “So you came to check on me instead.”

  A boyish grin humbled his expression. “Something like that.”

  Once again, his concern touched her heart. A wave of emotion deepened her breath. She tried to tamp it down. “That was thoughtful of you. But as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” She stood as if that proved her strength.

  His unbroken gaze pierced her soul. At once her hands felt awkward. She folded them in front of her and tried to think of something to say.

  After a long moment, he motioned to Zeke’s schoolbooks on the side table by the door. “No reading lessons this afternoon?”

  “Since Zeke has someone to play with, I gave him the afternoon off school.”

  “You made the right choice.”

  Though she didn’t need his approval, it was nice to have someone agree with her. “Most people would say he should be learning, not playing.”

  Solo shook his head casually. “I think children learn best while playing.”

  She wanted to talk more and not just because his kind gaze drew her in. Her mind wondered what other childrearing techniques they might agree upon. As she studied him, her heart filled with guilt.

  She snapped her attention away from his stubble-covered jaw and motioned to her desk. “I just came in here to write a quick letter before I tend to the rooms upstairs.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.” He cocked his chin and a slow smile curved his lips. “Sit and breathe for as long as you need to. You work harder than any woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Sit and breathe,” she repeated with a little laugh. “I still have to clean two guest rooms. Sybil will finish the laundry this afternoon, but I have to make the beds while she starts supper.” She rubbed her temples. “It’s selfish of me, but I’m ready for Claudia to come back to work.”

  He caught her anxious fingertips in his hand. “No, not selfish. It’s understandable. You can only do so much in a day.”

  The heat from his skin permeated hers. He traced a callused thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes begged to look away but were held captive by his gaze. Her words came out on stunted breath. “I thought I wanted to be alone, but after last night I…”

  He leaned an inch closer, his voice low and smooth. “You what?”

  “I realized I’m tired of being alone. Feeling alone. I’m surrounded by people all the time here but still feel… alone. I have since my mother left and Revel left and Ezekiel died.” Something flashed behind Solo’s eyes when she said her late husband’s name. She wanted to ask why but didn’t. “It’s even harder to be alone now that Zeke is growing up and needs more than I can give.”

  He narrowed his hazel eyes briefly. “Don’t say that. You’re a great mother. You give him everything he needs.”

  “He needs a father.” The words slipped out faster than she could stop them. For a fraction of a second she hoped maybe she hadn’t said it aloud, but the easy grin returned to one corner of his mouth.

  His unrelenting gaze finally left her eyes. It traveled to her lips, draining the power from her resolve. Something gripped her insides like when she was a child and would swing from the rope over the creek and fly into the water. Or when she would race her horse across the paddock and jump the back fence. Or when she was sixteen and a trader’s handsome son took her behind the barn to kiss her. She’d married him three years later. She was still in love with him, so how could she stand this close to another man, letting him hold her hand and look at her lips?

  The second she thought it, Solo’s gaze shot back up to her eyes. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her once, slowly and gently then pulled back, his breath on her skin. “I won’t leave Falls Creek until you tell me to.”

  She watched his mouth as he released her hand and took a step back. Her chin still tingled from the scratch of his whiskers.

  He put his hat on and tipped the brim to her. “I’ll be in the stables. See you at suppertime.”

  He closed her office door, and immediately she touched her lips and melted into her chair. In the distance outside her window, the big gray leaf tree’s shadow darkened the yard around the iron bench by Ezekiel’s gravestone. She stood and yanked the curtains closed, but it did nothing to stop the guilt pulsing through her torn heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  A drip of sweat ran down Bailey’s forehead, tickling her eyebrow. She wiped it with the back of her hand. Packing hay into a barn loft was the best workout she’d had in years. The muscles between her shoulder blades burned pleasurably. Every plunge and lift of the pitchfork demanded her muscles contract, and when they released, the built-up stress and sorrow poured out with her sweat.

  Thanks to John and the guys for letting her join their work, she hadn’t focused on her loss as much as she had while sitting idly in the house. When she kept her body moving, her mind had something real and raw to concentrate on. Emotional pain was just as real and raw, but it didn’t help to think about it.

  As she took a swig from her water bottle, John called to her from outside the loft window. “It will be awhile before Connor and Revel return with another load of hay.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Take a break. Come with me to the house for a drink of water.”

  She held up her water bottle. “I still have plenty.”

  John knocked his hat’s brim higher with a knuckle and looked up at her from fifteen feet below. “You should take a break. Lydia was worried about your being up there doing men’s work again today.”

  Seeing as how the good doctor was the first female physician in the Land, Bailey doubted it was Lydia who was worried about the work being too demanding for a female. “I’m fine, John.” She leaned her palms on the splintery window ledge, and the fresh air hit her face. “Lydia knows this is good for me.”

  John took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief then walked toward the house. Sweat sealed his shirt to his back. He was the hardest working pastor Bailey had ever met. Everyone here in the Land seemed to work hard. It felt right.

  She threw her pitchfork like a javelin at the stack of hay across the loft. It stuck in the cured grass and stood upright. She left it there and clipped her water bottle’s carabiner to her belt loop then climbed down the ladder to the barn floor.

  Two of the family’s four horses were in their stalls. One had its rump facing the stall gate. The other lifted its nose at her when she passed. She recognized it from the night she came to the Land, the night she’d lost Tim.

  The breeze wafted through the barn’s double wide doorway. Outside, the sun warmed her skin as much as the air cooled it. It was only the fourth week of autumn in the Land, but everyone here spoke as if the season would be short.

  She took another drink of water. It was too pleasant an afternoon to go inside, and if she sat quietly, her mind would wander backward instead of forward. Living in the past would lead to depression in the same way that living in the future led to anxiety. Somehow she had to stay in the moment. Instead of following John to the house, she ambled to the other side of the barn, wanting privacy but staying close so she would be ready when Revel and Connor came back with another load of hay.

  This work was good for her, and she intended to finish the day’s chores with the men. Not only did she need to stay busy, she needed to earn her keep. Once she had left her final foster family on her eighteenth birthday, she told herself never to be dependent on strangers again.

  She leaned against the barn and rested
for only a moment. As disheartening memories threatened to flood back, a pile of scrap lumber beside the fire pit caught her eye. Sandy gravel crunched under her shoes as she hurried to the burn pile. The boards waiting for the next fire were unfit for building, but they were solid and dry. Just how she liked them.

  She picked out two thick boards and carried them to a tree stump then toed off her shoes. Propping the first board at an angle between the ground and the stump, she settled her bare feet into the dry grass. After blowing out a slow breath, she sent a front snap kick into the board, splitting it in half. The resounding crack of wood energized her system. She tossed the broken pieces back onto the burn pile and set up the second board. It cracked as easily as the first.

  After rummaging through the old wood, she returned to the stump with a half dozen boards. She used her left foot to break the next board, but the fun of the challenge was wearing off. If she ever looked bored in front of Coach, he had a remedy. She did what he would have done and stacked two boards at once for the next kick.

  She settled her breath and concentrated on the doubly thick wood, focusing on the exact spot where she needed to strike to split both boards at once. It was about the thickness of the closet door she’d been locked behind by one of her foster moms when the military men came around. She would never be trapped like that again.

  With a surge of energy, she snapped both pieces of wood in two. Their crack echoed off the barn.

  If she could break two at once, why not try three?

  She threw the broken pieces back to the burn pile like flying discs and then set up the last three good boards in one thick stack against the stump. It had been years since she’d attempted to break three boards at once. She slowed her breathing and steadied her focus as she had for the other breaks. “Be strong,” she whispered just as she’d told herself in that dark closet twenty years ago. She hadn’t known how to break a door down then, but she did now.

  With all her might she kicked the center of the boards. They snapped and collapsed into a defeated stack on the ground.

  A slow clap of applause came from behind her. She turned to see Connor approaching. He smirked. “Nicely done.”

  Great. That was all she needed—the chief of the plowboy police watching her break boards. She cleaned up the broken wood. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  After tossing the first two boards into the pile, she reached for the others, but Connor was holding one, examining it.

  He pointed to the splintered edge. “You cracked this board clean through a knot in the wood.”

  “So?”

  “That isn’t easy.” His smirk was gone. “Black belt?”

  “Second degree.”

  “Had a feeling.” He tossed the wood into the burn pile. It smacked the rest of her discards. He straightened his spine and stood, towering over her. “We could use another skilled fighter on the security team.”

  All that was calm within her began to rumble. She would not let this former warrior rattle her. So what if he looked and sounded and stood like the men who’d been on the other side of that closet door? This man wasn’t a threat. He was John Colburn’s trusted son-in-law, and he was offering her a challenge. But one she couldn’t accept. She stepped back. “Your security team is the reason I’m alone here.”

  Connor crossed his arms, the lines of his shoulders making a strong square. “We were training to protect our land when your crewmen opened fire.”

  “Our land?” she repeated.

  “Yes, this is my home now. Has been for years.” His furrowed brow relaxed and he uncrossed his arms. “And, Bailey, I’ve found a person is never alone in the Land. Come to training tonight. I think my guys could learn a lot from you.” He lifted his chin at the barn. “We train in there. Nineteen hundred hours.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Solo relaxed into the back of the wooden chair and studied Frederick and Zeke from across the dinner table. The young boy only resembled his grandfather when he made a stern face at his puppy, which was currently pulling on his sock beneath the table. Zeke must have inherited his father’s features because nothing about him looked like his mother except the color of his dark brown eyes.

  Zeke would be an easy boy to raise. With little effort Solo could imagine adopting him. He already cared for Zeke and wanted to protect him and teach him and help Eva bring him up in the Lord. Hopefully, Zeke wouldn’t be their only child.

  No matter how much Solo tried to rein in his thoughts, after kissing Eva today, he’d wondered more than once what it would be like to have a family with her.

  Eva zipped past as she cleared dishes from the guests’ tables. Solo hoped to catch her eye and steal a smile, but she moved away too quickly. Maybe once she was done with work she would slow down long enough to see the desire in his eyes. Perhaps she knew it was there and was trying to avoid it.

  Heavens, he hoped not.

  Yes, he yearned for her but with a desire that was far beyond physical. He wanted to know everything about her, and he wanted her to know she was loved.

  The family from Pleasant Valley rose from their seats, thanked Eva for the meal, and left the dining hall with the lethargy of people who’d spent the day working and playing out-of-doors. A moment later, the two traders who’d helped with the harvesting all day also trudged upstairs. Since no new guests had come to the inn today, it was just the family and Solo left in the dining hall.

  Frederick hummed one grateful note as he scraped the last bite of apple pie from his plate. He perched his wrinkled elbows on the table. “Fine meal tonight, Peach,” he said to Eva when she returned to clear their table.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Solo watched her lips as she spoke to her father. Zeke was in the middle of telling them about playing with his new friend in the yard all afternoon. Solo didn’t hear much of what he said either. All he could do was watch Eva and think of their kiss.

  Sybil’s excited voice rejoiced in the kitchen, drawing everyone’s attention. “Hallelujah!” She marched into the dining hall with Claudia, who was smiling for the first time since Leonard’s stroke. “Praise the Lord!” she exclaimed as she strode to the family’s table.

  Frederick straightened his posture. “What’s happened?”

  “Leonard stood!” Claudia glanced from Frederick to Eva and then Solo. “He stood up after dinner and took a few steps.”

  Frederick clapped once, beaming like Zeke did when he first got the puppy.

  Now Solo could see the resemblance.

  Eva set down the dirty dishes and wrapped Claudia in a hug. “How wonderful!”

  “Indeed!” Claudia wiped a happy tear from her cheek. “It wore him plumb out, but he did it.”

  Zeke looked at Solo from across the table. “Does that mean Leonard will be all right?”

  Solo weighed his words, unsure of what it meant medically, seeing as how the doctor hadn’t thought Leonard would recover at all. “It means God can do more than we expect Him to.”

  Frederick nodded. “Quite right, Solo. Quite right. Let’s celebrate!” He pointed at a shelf over the mantel where their games were kept. “Zeke, scare up a deck of cards over there, and we’ll enjoy ourselves tonight. Care to stay for a game, Claudia?”

  “No, I want to get back to the cottage in case Leonard needs me.”

  Eva walked out of the dining hall with her, their happy conversation continuing.

  Zeke jumped from his chair, and his little dog yapped once as it chased him across the room to the game shelf. After rummaging through a stack of paper boxes and thin boards, he ran back to the table with a red box of playing cards. “Can we play Pairs?”

  Frederick began shuffling the cards. “Just until your mama and Sybil finish cleaning up, then I’ll teach you an old game we can all play together.” He gave Solo a wink. “It’s called Bluff.”

  Zeke sat on his knees in his chair and wiggled with excitement as they played Pairs. His pile of pairs grew faster than his grandfather’s
and Solo’s, but both men were too happy to mind being beaten by a six-year-old—Frederick elated over the news of Leonard’s recovery and Solo over the affection he felt for Eva.

  They were halfway through their third game of Pairs when Eva and Sybil came out of the kitchen. Each lady had shed her apron and looked tired but pretty. As they approached the table, Solo stood and pulled out the chair next to him for Eva.

  Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said as he sat beside her, inhaling her feminine scent.

  Sybil sat by Zeke and frequently glanced at Solo then gave Eva an odd look. Maybe Sybil knew about the kiss. The sisters probably talked about everything in their lives, including men. Whenever he looked up from his cards, Sybil shifted her eyes between him and Eva. Yes, the younger sister definitely knew he’d kissed Eva. She had him beat though because he didn’t know how Eva felt about the kiss, about him.

  Fair enough. He would let the sisters have their secrets for now because one day he would marry Eva and be a part of this family. One day he would know how Eva felt because he would be her husband and would devote his life to knowing her. But for now, he was enjoying the mystery.

  If Eva hadn’t liked what happened in the office today, she wouldn’t be sitting beside him now. She wouldn’t have told her sister enough to make the woman glance at him and smile demurely every couple of minutes. Just when he thought he might never know how Eva felt, her leg sidled up against his under the table. If she didn’t feel something for him, she certainly wouldn’t have done that.

  As the game continued, Solo lost every hand he played—not because he was bad at Bluff. But what man could concentrate when he was overwhelmed by a woman’s furtive touch, especially if it was the woman he loved?

  Love. It was the muse of poets and playwrights, and he was neither. He was a simple horse breeder who had a few children’s stories to write, and he couldn’t even do that like he’d planned. Oh, he could, but then he’d be missing out on the ecstasy of falling for a woman who might be falling for him too.