by Karen Kirst
This was one of those times. One of the most important. This land meant independence. A future for her and Walt. No way was a Thornton going to rip it from her grasp.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d cease with the name slinging.” With his face this close as he spoke, she couldn’t ignore the overall impression of wolfish magnificence. The chiseled cheekbones, strong nose, firm mouth. Eloquent brown brows—the only refined feature in his wild appearance—framed cold, glittering eyes the color of rainy skies. From the dark scruff along his hard jaws and chin, it was clear he’d misplaced his straight razor. “I’m neither a liar nor a thief,” he said through clenched teeth. “Your parents and brothers have fed you a pack of lies about us.”
“My parents were God-fearing, decent people.” Unlike your traitor of a father.
As if he’d read her mind, his brows slammed together. Whatever stinging retort he’d had planned was cut off by Theo.
“Private Wellington, you’ve seen the proof. Kick this trespasser off my sister’s property.”
Wellington held up a hand. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? We have the stake. Surely—”
“I don’t have the authority to settle your dispute. At this point it is my responsibility to suggest you work together to reach a compromise.”
“Compromise? You have no idea what you’re asking.” Theo shook his head. “I wouldn’t give a Thornton the satisfaction.”
“Then your dispute will have to be taken up in court. Unfortunately, there’s a backlog of cases. There’s no way of knowing how long it will be before your case can be heard. It would be best for all of you to vacate the land until the dispute is settled.”
“Out of the question.” Gideon looked as unmovable as a mountain.
“I have no intention of leaving,” Evelyn shot back.
“If you both insist on staying, you’ll have to share it while you wait for the judge to hear your case.”
“That’s not acceptable,” Brett clipped out, his hand slicing through the air. “You’ve seen the stake. Thornton is clearly taking advantage of the situation.”
As her brothers argued with the older officer, Evelyn and Gideon glared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills. No way was she sharing Walt’s inheritance with this man. For his part, her nemesis appeared equally appalled at the prospect.
When the arguments grew heated, Wellington held up both hands. “Enough.” His sharp command rendered the group silent, his cool blue eyes touching on each person. “However much you all dislike the situation, there’s no other alternative. I suggest you make the best of it.”
Reid came to stand beside her, Walt still held securely in his arms. “I’m not leaving my sister here alone with Gideon Thornton.”
Of all her brothers, her twin was the most protective. Maybe it was the age thing or the special bond they shared. Still, it rankled. Why couldn’t he accept that she was a capable adult?
Resting a hand in the crook of his elbow, she said, “I can take care of myself.”
“Other cavalry officers will periodically stop by to ensure they are sharing the land peacefully.” Wellington sized up Gideon. “Besides, if anything were to happen to Mrs. Montgomery or her son, everyone in Brave Rock would know whom to suspect.”
Theo scowled. “You’re forgetting the nearest claims are held by Gideon’s brothers, as well as town members who’ve been tricked into thinking the Thorntons are decent and honorable men. If Gideon turned against her, these people wouldn’t rush to her aid. They’d support Gideon. They’ve gone so far as to entrust their spiritual well-being to Elijah and their safety to Clint, whom they’ve named sheriff.”
Gideon visibly bristled. “No need to worry. I have absolutely no reason to go near this woman.”
Spinning about, he skirted the group and, greeting his beautiful palomino with a gentle touch, mounted with a grace and ease that belied his brawny build. And without a saddle, too. Moving as one, horse and rider traversed the fields until they faded from view.
Of all the insolent, rude—
“Our business here is concluded, gentlemen. Time to get a move on.” Wellington’s long legs ate up the distance to the wagon.
With a troubled light in his coffee-colored eyes, Reid sidled closer to his twin sister. “I’ll stay here with you.”
“We can take turns.” Nodding, Brett looked to his oldest brother for confirmation.
“Out of the question.” Evelyn planted her hands on her hips. “You have your own claims to tend to.”
Theo shouldered closer, his hair falling in his eyes. “The Thorntons—”
“Are not murderers, Theo. I’m in no danger here. You heard the officer. Gideon Thornton would be an idiot to try anything.” All three men’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not that he would,” she rushed to say. “You saw the way he acted. I doubt we’ll exchange so much as a single word.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Reid,” she reminded him quietly, determined not to be railroaded.
For the first time in five years, since her wedding to Drake, she felt free. It was a liberating feeling, buoyant and carefree, but not without a measure of guilt. Her husband was dead, after all. Shouldn’t she be mourning his absence? Her lack of reaction confounded her brothers. All three had been watching her since the funeral, expecting her to dissolve in a heap of tears. She’d even heard Theo mention the word shock.
How can I mourn a man who found fault with my every move?
Her five-year-old son watched them with wide, solemn eyes, unnaturally silent. Reaching out, she caressed his silken cheek. When was the last time he’d smiled? Or uttered a word? Always a quiet child, he’d stopped speaking altogether the day of Drake’s death.
How can Walt miss a father who’d basically ignored him?
Determination pulsed through her veins, washing away the doubts, the fears.
She would move heaven and earth to help her precious child. Her hope was that a new home, a change in routine and surroundings, would draw him out. While her brothers meant well, they didn’t know what was best for her son. They would not be allowed to sabotage Walt’s chance at a normal life.
When she held out her hands, he lurched forward into her arms. Soon he would be too heavy for her. Settling his familiar, reassuring weight against her hip, she half turned so that all three could see her face, see she meant business. “It’s my decision to make, and I choose to stay here and wait it out. Alone.”
The memory of Gideon Thornton’s ice-cold eyes sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine. May she not come to regret this decision.
Chapter Two
Temper boiling over, Gideon kicked an empty pail and sent it sailing through the air to bounce across the yard. Beneath the anger and resentment churned very real concern. What if the judge ruled in her favor?
A lifetime of living at the mercy of other men’s whims had sparked within his soul a desperate craving for independence. For control. The chance to shape his own destiny. And now, thanks to the Chaucers, his dream of running his own ranch was being threatened.
His gaze touched on the corral and the partially-built stable, the trees he’d felled and readied for use. All this effort—the planning, the sweat and toil and time—would’ve been for nothing.
His hunger forgotten, repressed energy making him jittery, he stalked around back and lugged another log closer to the rear wall. While he worked, he pondered the stakes. If Drake had indeed summoned the strength to switch them, where had Gideon’s disappeared to? Just didn’t make any sense.
He’d tried to help a dying man and his repayment was this—a problem he couldn’t readily fix, one he couldn’t have foreseen. Yet another tangle with the troublesome Chaucers. A year and a half ago, he would’ve gotten on his k
nees and sought God’s direction. Not now.
He was itching to inform his brothers of this new trouble. True to form, Lije would suggest he pray about the situation. Not happening. Lawman Clint would be more inclined to action, but what could be done? As much as he needed to mull this over with them, he didn’t feel right leaving his claim just yet, not when the Chaucers were sure to return with the widow and her son.
Wedging another log into place, he caught his thumb in the indented corner. With a muttered oath, he tugged the glove off and sucked on the throbbing finger. Should he abandon the project? After all, there was a very real chance he was actually building this shelter not for himself but for a hateful family who did nothing but point their fingers at him and his brothers, unfairly blaming them for their own misfortune.
But he’d never been a quitter. Call it determination or plain old stubbornness—he wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop fighting for his dream until the judge gave his ruling.
Two hours later he was downing a quick lunch of buffalo jerky and two-day-old biscuits he’d snagged from Alice’s table when Mrs. Evelyn Montgomery returned with a mountain of belongings. Trunks and barrels and carpet bags were piled into the wagon driven by her twin, Reid. Where did she think she was gonna stow all that?
Perched on an upended crate near his tent’s opening, the towering cottonwoods high, crooked branches providing welcome shade, he did not go out to welcome them. His dogs, Lion, a golden-haired beauty with a wise face, and Shadow, a shaggy black mutt with a playful spirit, lifted their heads from their outstretched paws. Bringing them to Oklahoma had been the right decision. The dogs were good companions, loyal to a fault.
Reid stopped the wagon in front of the stable and, after assisting his sister and nephew down, began to unload her stuff.
“Where will you sleep?” Reid’s question carried on the breeze.
She glanced Gideon’s way and, catching him staring, arched a provoking eyebrow. “Mr. Thornton and I will sort that out.”
Seeing the direction of her gaze, her brother tossed him a scowl. “I wish you’d let me help you get settled at least.”
She turned her back and her response was lost. Burrowed into her skirt, the raven-haired boy twisted his head to stare at Gideon. The absence of animation on his face was unnerving. He was what? Four? Five? For certain he was missing his pa but the watchful stillness wasn’t typical of a child that age. Especially a boy.
Gideon found he couldn’t look away. Memories burst into his mind. A little girl’s giggles as he twirled her up in the air. The sweet scent that clung to her blond curls and skin as she nestled in his lap for a bedtime story.
Surging to his feet, he discarded the now-cold coffee behind the tree and rinsed his mug in the stream, deliberately blanking his mind. He’d spent little time around children in the past year or so. Only natural that the boy’s presence would resurrect the past.
Best thing to do is keep your distance. Let the two of them tend to their own business while you focus on yours. It’s not like you have extra time on your hands anyway.
“Mr. Thornton?”
He stiffened, turned to see mother and son standing by his stone-encircled fire pit. Beyond them the wagon ambled in the direction of the hastily-constructed town, which so far consisted of a single bank, mercantile, café and jail.
So. This was it. They were well and truly stuck with each other.
“I see you haven’t built a cabin.” She indicated the undulating fields around her with a sweep of her arm. “Where do you suggest we sleep?”
At odds with her military-like posture and assertive manner, she kept a tight hold on the boy, the white in her knuckles betraying her unease.
“Got a tent somewhere in all that baggage?”
Studying his tent with distaste, she reluctantly admitted, “I’m certain I do.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“You don’t think I packed every single container myself, do you?”
Noting the sun’s lowered position in the sky, he picked up his Stetson and, brushing dust from the black felt, dropped it on his head. “I suggest you start searching, then, Mrs. Montgomery. Only a few more hours left before sunset. Wouldn’t want to be caught outdoors overnight without shelter. Coyotes pass through these parts on their way to the Cimarron.”
The boy’s jaw dropped and his fingers bunched in her black skirts.
“It’s all right, Walt,” she soothed, all the while shooting daggers at him over the child’s head that screamed, How dare you? Her silent reproach hit its mark with accuracy.
He’d spoken without a thought to Walt’s feelings. That was the first and last time.
He cleared his throat. “But they stay away from the tents because of Lion and Shadow.” Pointing to the dogs, he looked Walt in the eye, man-to-man style. “They’re my guardians. Now that you’re here, they’ll watch out for you, too.”
Walt tilted his head back and stared at Evelyn. A tender smile curved her lips, the intense love and affection shining in her eyes knocking Gideon back a step. He’d witnessed that look before, the shared unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. He felt the absence of it keenly. An image of two graves side by side with twin handmade crosses tormented him.
As desperately as he craved space, there was something he had to do first.
He bent a knee to the ground. “Lion. Shadow.” Immediately the dogs came to stand on either side. Resting his hands on their backs, he addressed the boy. “Would you like to come and meet them?”
Cautious interest bloomed in Walt’s dark eyes. Again he looked to his mother but remained silent.
Lightly squeezing his shoulder, she nodded. “It’s okay.”
Walt slowly approached, his focus on the animals sitting on their haunches and waiting patiently to be introduced.
“Walt, this here is Lion,” he said, indicating the yellow-haired one. “He’s intelligent and extremely loyal. Shadow is younger and a bit more playful.” He patted the shaggy black head. “Hold out your hand and let them smell you first. Then you can pet them all you want.”
He did as he was told, gingerly at first. When Shadow licked his fingers, a tiny smile flickered. Gideon’s gaze shot to Evelyn. Concern tugged her thick brows together, and she’d pressed her hands together, covering her mouth and nose.
What was going on here? He sensed something deeper than grief had affected Walt Montgomery. Mind your own business. Don’t get involved. Remain detached. His formula for avoiding any more pain.
Easing to his feet, he said, “Boys, you stay here with Walt. I’ve got work to do.” Inclining his head a fraction as he passed her, he said, “Mrs. Montgomery.”
Striding away, he felt the weight of her scrutiny sizzling the exposed strip of skin above his collar. He wouldn’t have a bit of trouble maintaining his distance from the woman. All he had to do was remind himself of her reason for being here. The boy, he feared, was another matter altogether.
* * *
“How hard can erecting one tent be?” Evelyn muttered, the pads of her fingers sore from trying to force the too-large buttons through the hand-worked holes along the peak. Hot, sweaty and thirsty, she regretted not accepting Reid’s offer of assistance.
Pushing errant strands behind her ears, she observed her son for a moment. Perched on a flat rock beside the stream, he sat between the dogs, his arms slung about their necks. He’d taken off his shoes and socks, rolled his charcoal pants up to his knees and submerged his feet and ankles in the meandering water.
A smile surfaced. If there was one good thing to come out of this dreadful arrangement, this was it—companions for Walt.
When the obtuse Gideon Thornton had goaded her about the coyotes, she’d been livid. The last thing she needed was for her son to entertain nightmares of rabid beasts ripping through their
tent and carrying him off into the night. But then the unexpected had happened. He’d realized his blunder and remedied it.
Not that one kind gesture could soften her opinion of him. Land robber.
Sighing, longing for the days of honest-to-goodness baths—luxurious soaks in full-length tin basins—she took hold of the nearest stick and maneuvered herself underneath the thick white canvas. Holding the rear of the tent with a hand above her head, she attempted to lodge the makeshift pole into the hard ground. It refused to cooperate. She really needed both hands and perhaps a trowel, but she couldn’t do that without the canvas collapsing in on her.
Oppressive heat quickly filled the space. Her itchy bonnet had been discarded an hour ago while rifling through the trunks searching for the tent. Her heavy hair strained the pins holding it in place, which occasionally poked her scalp.
Deciding to let the canvas rest on her shoulders, she curled her fingers around the thick stick and tried jamming it as hard as she could. Unladylike grunts slipped out as she repeated the action. At last it was deep enough. When she successfully angled the pole up to support the top, she sat back with a satisfied sigh.
When it tipped over and the whole thing collapsed in on her, she let out a frustrated yelp. She swatted the material engulfing her.
Suddenly, steel-like vises gripped her shoulders through the canvas. “Hold still.”
“Get your hands off me!” Embarrassment flooding her cheeks, she tried to twist out of his grip.
“It’d be a whole lot easier to get off if you’d stop fighting me.”
The suffocating feeling intensifying, she stilled, and within seconds the white canvas was pulled away. Welcome sunlight and fresh air washed over her.
“If you’ll step over to the side—” Gideon’s controlled voice snapped her eyes open “—I’ll have this set up in a jiffy.”