by Karen Ball
Yes, indeed. Donelle sipped her tea with pleasure. Connor Alexander has definite possibilities.
TWELVE
“I THINK THAT’S EVERYTHING.” TAYLOR STUDIED HER LIST, HER lips pursed in thought. “Yup, we got it all.”
“Good thing.” Connor studied the packed vehicle. “There’s no room left in the truck for anything else.”
She laughed and pulled the door open, sliding behind the steering wheel. They had come to Jackson for “a quick supply run,” and ended up being there most of the afternoon. Connor had been intrigued with Jackson, with its wooden sidewalks and Old West appearance.
“I have an idea.” Connor leaned against the door. “How ’bout I buy you dinner?”
Taylor looked at him. “Dinner? Why?”
He laughed. “Mainly because I’m starving!”
“Ah, so your altruistic gesture is really self-serving?”
“Entirely.”
“I have a better idea.”
“Does it involve food?” He eyed her.
“I promise.”
“Then lead on, boss lady.”
They picked up sandwiches, chips, and soda at the grocery store, then drove to the town square. Connor stared in amazement at the elk antler arches that stood at the four corners of the tiny park there. He and Taylor sat on a bench, offered grace, and started eating.
“You’re right.” He munched happily. “This is better than a restaurant.” He looked around. “My mom would love this place. She loves touristy towns with shops and atmosphere to the nth degree.”
“I suppose you stand outside while she shops.”
“Definitely. But she doesn’t mind. She just likes to chat as we walk from shop to shop.” The image made him grin. “She’s the best. My dad, too.” He met Taylor’s warm gaze. “In a way your mom reminds me of them. Always saying good things about people and laughing a lot.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
He shook his head. “Only child. Spoiled rotten and loved every minute of it. My folks were older when I was born, and Mom couldn’t have any more children. So they poured all their creativity and love into me, one another, and the Lord. I think I heard every Bible story about a zillion times.”
“Me, too.” Taylor giggled. “And I still love them!”
Connor smiled in response, struck by the picture she made. The red light of the setting sun reflected in gleaming highlights in her hair, and her eyes were lit with the warmth of shared memories. She was at ease, relaxed, and completely captivating.
I could spend hours talking to her, laughing with her. Maybe days.
Maybe forever, a small inner voice added, startling him.
“You know, I always wanted to have the kind of relationship my parents share,” she said. “I didn’t think I ever would … but I did. With Josh.”
Connor stilled. She’d never discussed her husband with him before.
“We had such a great time together. I was sure we’d go on forever, that we’d have a passel of kids. Maybe even twins, like Ryan and Lisa.” She met Connor’s gaze, and he saw tears gleaming in her eyes. “Josh loved kids. All ages.”
“Your mom told me he was on a trip with the church youth group when he died?”
“One of the campers went out on a ledge, and Josh brought him back. He saved the boy’s life.”
The pain in her eyes struck at him. He wished he could hold her close, ease her hurt.
“It shouldn’t have happened.” The harshness in her tone surprised him. “It shouldn’t have been Josh on that ledge. There was another boy, a senior. Brad Momadey. He was supposed to be watching the younger boys. It’s his fault Josh is dead.”
Connor put a gentle hand on her arm. “Taylor, it was an accident—”
She jerked away. “No. It was Brad’s fault. He stopped coming to church. He’s all but disappeared. Mom talked with his mother, and she said she hasn’t seen him for months …” She blinked rapidly. “He’s nineteen years old, and he just vanished. But do you know what?” Her voice choked. “I don’t care. I hope he never comes back. Because when I see him—and I did catch a glimpse of him in Wilson not long ago—all I can think of is what he did, what he cost me. And all I can feel is hatred.”
Connor reached out and took her now-cold hand in his own. They sat in silence, until she turned wide, sorrow-filled eyes to him.
“So now you know what a terrible person I am.”
Connor rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You’re not terrible.”
She lifted her eyes, searching his face.
God, give me wisdom. Show me how to help her. “You’re hurting. I understand that. And if I can understand that, don’t you think God does as well?”
She swallowed convulsively, closed her eyes, and sat in silence. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and stood. “Well, we’ve been gone a lot longer than I thought we would be. We’d better head back.”
He grinned. “Before Luke sends out the state troopers, right?”
“Exactly.” She mustered a smile, and he stood to follow her to the truck.
“Taylor, can I talk to you?”
Taylor turned from where she was mending a halter. Luke stood in the doorway of the barn, concern etched on his weathered features.
“Of course.” She moved toward him. “What’s wrong, Luke?”
He shifted from one foot to another, but his focus never strayed from her face. “Yazhi, what do you know about this man you’ve hired?”
She hesitated. “About as much as I know when I hire anyone.” She scanned his expression, wondering what had him so bothered. It was unusual for Luke to question her decisions. “Why?”
He studied her face for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t like him.”
Taylor couldn’t hide her surprise, and Luke looked away. She moved to touch his arm gently. “Has he said something to offend you? Because if he has—”
He was shaking his head before she could finish. “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s … actually, I’m not sure what it is. But there’s something about him, Yazhi, something I don’t quite trust. Sometimes people are far different inside than they seem on the surface.”
Taylor bit her lip. Connor had been at Galloway Glen for a week and a half now, and he’d been the picture of trustworthiness and hard work. And he’d been nothing but kind and understanding that day when she talked about Josh and Brad. Still, she trusted Luke. He’d always acted in her best interests. So why did she sense that he wasn’t being completely honest with her now? That there was something going on beneath the surface, something Luke wasn’t willing to share with her?
The thought that her longtime friend might be concealing something troubled her far more than his apparent dislike of her new ranch hand.
“I’ll talk with Mom. She has good instincts. I’ll see if she shares your concerns.”
Luke seemed satisfied and turned to leave.
“Luke,” Taylor said, and he paused. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”
“Yes, Yazhi.” His dark gaze not quite meeting hers. “I know.”
But as he turned to leave, Taylor had the distinct impression that he didn’t believe that at all.
Taylor did as she promised. She talked with her mother about Connor that afternoon.
Her mother frowned when Taylor was done. “I don’t understand it, dear. Connor seems like a nice man. Kind. Honest.”
“I know. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Actually, it might.”
She looked at her mother. What did that mean?
“Taylor, you know I think the world of Luke, but he has a definite tendency to treat you as though you belong to him. It might be that he’s feeling a bit, well, threatened.”
“Threatened? By Connor?”
“By anyone who isn’t a part of Galloway Glen. Remember how long it took Luke to warm up to Josh?”
Taylor remembered. She nearly despaired of Luke ever liking Josh. “You�
�re right. I’d forgotten about that.”
Her mother patted her arm. “Luke is a good friend to you, Taylor. And we’re told that ‘many counselors make a man wise.’ Keep what he’s said in mind, and let’s ask God to show you if there is anything about Connor Alexander that should concern you.”
Taylor was grateful for her mother’s calm perspective.
“And while we’re at it,” her mother added, her eyes twinkling, “we just might ask him to bring your father back in one piece. Ryan and the twins could be leading him on a merry chase.”
A few days later, during yet another of her mother’s marathon breakfast feasts, Taylor announced to Connor that they would be heading for the back forty to repair several sections of a paddock.
“The back forty?”
She bit off a chunk of bagel. “Yup. We take the retreat families out there as a day trip,” Taylor explained. “It’s about a three-hour ride on horseback through some really pretty terrain. Mom goes out there ahead of us with the truck, and when the group arrives, she’s got a picnic lunch all set out and ready to go.”
Connor surveyed the spread. “I take it she fixes more than egg-salad sandwiches.”
“Count on it.” Taylor laughed. “We usually eat the leftovers for the next three nights.” She reached for a buttermilk biscuit. “Of course, that’s not exactly a hardship.” She spread homemade jelly on the biscuit and took a hearty bite. “You haven’t really lived until you’ve tasted my mother’s fried chicken. Hot or cold, it beats Colonel Kentucky any day!”
After breakfast, they loaded the truck with poles and tools, then drove westward toward the mountains. As always, Connor was captivated by the beauty of the ranch and the ever-changing terrain. They drove across fields dotted with wildflowers, past stands of evergreens, and around rocky outcroppings. In the distance, the jagged peaks of the Tetons jutted toward the crystalline sky.
They rode in a comfortable silence, something Connor couldn’t remember ever experiencing with a woman before. Taylor would speak up from time to time, pointing out landmarks or spots of interest, but for the most part, she simply drove without talking, relaxed and competent.
They had just rounded another small stand of trees when she leaned forward and pointed. “There it is.”
A small cabin of rough logs stood in front of them. Other than a picture window and the ever-present rocking chairs standing guard on the porch, the cabin looked as though it could have been in that spot for a hundred years.
“This used to be a sheepherder’s cabin.” Taylor leaned forward. “We updated it a bit, but tried to keep the authentic, rustic feel.”
She pulled up next to a small paddock located at the side of the cabin and shut off the ignition. Near the enclosure were three picnic tables.
“Here’s our project for today,” she said as they climbed out of the truck.
Several of the main support timbers around the paddock needed to be replaced, and the two went right to work, quickly and smoothly, like a finely tuned team, each understanding what the other needed almost before he or she asked. Connor would no sooner glance around for a tool than Taylor would hand it to him. She would just open her mouth to ask for help when he would stop what he was doing and offer an extra set of hands—or muscle.
Several times, however, Connor noticed Taylor pausing to glance around, a bemused look on her face. After the fourth or fifth time, he said, “What’s up, Taylor?”
She bit her lip, giving him a somewhat sheepish look. “Nothing.”
He set down the hammer he’d been using. “Uh-uh. Not good enough. You’ve been looking over your shoulder like a highwayman watching for a posse. What’s the matter?”
She leaned on the fence. “It’s happening again.”
He looked around. “It?”
She let out a slow breath. “I can’t explain it, can’t even give you a good reason for it, but I’m positive we’re being watched.” She shook her head. “I know it sounds silly, but the feeling’s so strong it’s making me as nervous as a three-legged frog on the highway.”
Connor turned to scan the surrounding woods, then turned back to her. Clearly she was uneasy. And once again he was surprised at the powerful, protective urge that filled him. “Do you want me to take a ride around? Check things out?”
The way he was feeling now, he knew he’d do so no matter what. Few things had ever felt as important to him as ensuring Taylor’s peace of mind.
Quick gratitude swept through her at his accepting attitude, relief that he didn’t merely dismiss her feelings or try to talk her out of them.
“No, never mind.” She turned to stare into the distance. “Truth be known, if someone is out there, I’d rather have you stay close by.”
She turned back to him, then paused at the odd look in his eyes. Something shimmered in the blue depths of his gaze, something protective and so purely male that she felt a sudden tingling in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, the very air around them seemed to snap with electricity. And then he looked away from her, and the spell was broken.
She stood, struggling to get her emotions under control as he turned to pick up the hammer. As she drew a steadying breath and moved forward to help him, she found herself wondering if the man beside her wasn’t far more dangerous—to her peace of mind, if nothing else—than anyone who might be lurking in the woods.
“Maybe it was one of those wolves the ranchers have been talking about.”
Taylor looked at him in alarm. “What?”
“When I first came to town, I overheard a group of ranchers at the general store talking about wolves. They said they’d been seen in the area.”
“Not seen—” Taylor pounded a nail more viciously than was necessary—“heard. There have been a couple of reports about wolves howling.” She reached for another nail. “But if you ask me, it’s all a bunch of exaggerated nonsense.” She positioned the nail and brought the hammer down, then added in a low voice, “I just hope these guys come to that conclusion, too, before somebody gets hurt.”
Connor fixed her with a curious look. “Hurt? Why would someone get hurt?”
She concentrated on the nail.
“Taylor?”
She let out a frustrated puff of air, then leaned her arms on the top of the fence and regarded him, debating how much she could safely say.
“You don’t know these people like I do. They’re good men, Connor, but talk about wolves and some of them get cold. Stone cold. They hate wolves. They call them killers and vermin. Some wouldn’t think twice about gunning one down or putting poison out for it.”
“Even though it’s illegal to do so?”
“They don’t care. What matters most to them is their livestock, which is understandable. I mean, it’s their livelihood.…” He sat back, watching her.
“What do you think of wolves?”
She started at the question. Her eyes flew to his face, but she saw nothing there other than mild interest … and, oddly enough, compassion.
She bit her lip, staring unseeingly into the distance. “When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to tell me the stories and legends of her people, the Ojibwa. She told me how the Ojibwa believed each of the animals had a unique power, an attribute that belonged to it alone. Do you know what the wolf’s attribute was?”
“Cunning?”
“Fidelity. Loyalty. From the time she was a small girl, my grandmother was taught that the wolf was a wonderful creature. She often showed me her grandfather’s warrior band. It bore a wolf totem for perseverance and guardianship. In their creation story, a wolf befriended and cared for Nanabojo, one of the four most important spirits in the Ojibwa religion. She told me time and again that her people revered the wolf as an example of high family values.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Can you see the ranchers buying into that?”
“Let’s just say the odds aren’t real high.”
“Let’s just say they’re nonexistent. But for me”—she paused, searching for the ri
ght words—“for me, wolves have always been a source of wonder. They’re remarkably caring and loving to their family members, to the others in the pack. And they seem to find a great delight in living. Sometimes they almost seem to be smiling.”
“You sound as though you’ve seen them.”
Oh no! Why wasn’t she more careful? “I’ve seen pictures.”
He scanned her face, his eyes intent, and she had the impression he longed to delve into her thoughts, to understand what she was trying to share with him. “You’re drawn to their loyalty. I can see that. Loyalty, faithfulness, they’re important to you. And they’re a part of you.”
She looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Anyone who spends time around you can see that you’re loyal to the people you love and the ideals you hold dear. Look at the way you are with your mother, the tone of your voice when you talk about your grandmother. And about God.”
His words both pleased and embarrassed her. Once again she had the sense of something passing between them, something powerful and magnetic. She felt her cheeks grow warm and turned away, not sure how to respond. A gentle touch on her arm brought her eyes back to him.
He stood beside her, and the look in his eyes seemed to wrap her in an invisible warmth. It was as though her entire being was filled with anticipation.
“Taylor, I want—I need to tell you—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by the sound of an approaching vehicle. They turned as one to look in the direction of the engine noise.
When Taylor spotted a Blazer heading toward them, her eyes widened. What in the world? “It’s Gavin.” “Gavin?”