by Linda Ford
A smile brightened her eyes even before it reached her lips. “Avoiding an argument seems a good thing to me.”
He grinned. “Me, too. Do you want me to ask a blessing on the food?”
She blinked.
He guessed she hadn’t thought of grace.
“That would be nice.” She held her son’s little hands as she bowed her head.
Adam gave Johnny a wide-eyed, curious look.
Johnny closed his eyes and prayed, keeping it short and simple, though he added a request for safe and successful travels.
They ate the plain meal. He wished they had time to make coffee, but there seemed no point in starting a fire. As Willow gathered the dinner things together to wash with water from the stream, the little boy tackled Johnny, making him chuckle.
He caught Adam and swung him into the air, earning a rolling belly laugh.
Willow stared at them, a tight look on her face.
Johnny lowered Adam to the ground. “Will I hurt him, doing that?”
She shook her head. “He loves it.”
“Then what did I do to make you look at me that way?” Adam clung to his leg, getting a free ride as Johnny moved closer to Willow, wanting to read her eyes for a clue as to what worried her.
She returned the dishes to the wagon, seeming to use it as an excuse to avoid looking at him again. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Can we resume our travels?”
“I’ll get the horses.” He brought them back, hitched up the mare and tied Gray to the rear. Willow already sat on the bench, Adam perched on her knees. There was nothing to do but climb up beside her.
They returned to the road and continued their journey, but the silence between them that had earlier been comfortable now crackled with tension.
“Willow—”
“Adam is ready for a nap.” She laid him on a quilt in the back and he fell asleep sucking two fingers.
Johnny had no intention of spending the rest of the day with this strain between them. “Willow, I know I did something, or said something, that upset you. I’d apologize but I don’t know what I did. I think it fair that you explain it to me.”
* * *
Willow’s thoughts twisted and turned. Was there anything more hurtful than seeing a man like Johnny play with Adam? If only she could dream of someone like him. Her chest muscles clenched with a thousand painful regrets.
“It’s nothing you did. Not really.”
“There is no one else here to blame for the way you looked at me.”
There’s me. But she wouldn’t tell him that, nor what she meant by the words. She would carry the blame the rest of her life. If only for her own sake, she wouldn’t care so much, but her mistakes would hurt Adam and perhaps her sisters. At least her marriage to Bertie had given Adam a name, though she wished it wasn’t Reames, one that carried too many regrets.
Johnny continued to gaze at her, his dark eyes full of hurt and compassion. An odd mixture. Was it hurt on his own behalf and compassion for the hurt he might see in her?
The thought compelled her to say more. “It’s just that seeing you play with Adam makes me realize all the things I can’t give him.”
“I don’t understand.”
Of course he didn’t, because she hadn’t explained it, nor did she plan to. “He will never know a father’s love.”
Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “You are a fine-looking woman. There will be lots of suitors, I’m sure.”
“Thanks.” She clasped her hands together to keep from tidying her hair. “But I will never remarry.” To do so meant telling the whole truth about her marriage to Bertie. It was too great a risk. How could she be certain a man wouldn’t look at Adam differently if he knew the facts? Bertie had despised the baby because of the circumstances of his birth. He’d had plenty of mocking, ugly words to describe her beautiful son.
His comments to Willow had been cruel, as well. He’d accused her of being a loose woman, and every time she went out, he’d asked if she’d had a rendezvous with a lover. No, she would not subject either of them to such a life. “I will never marry again.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud nor quite so vehemently.
Johnny jerked about and faced forward.
She stole a quick look at him, then studied her hands. “So you see, Adam will never know a father’s love.” Her words sounded weak even to herself, but she couldn’t explain she meant more than remarriage. Poor little Adam would never know love from Peter, who had outright rejected both of them. He’d never known it from Bertie. Wouldn’t even know it from Bertie’s father, whom everyone assumed was Adam’s grandfather.
Johnny began to speak, so softly she had to lean closer to hear him. “That’s your grief talking. I saw the same thing with Thad. He couldn’t imagine life could go on. Couldn’t believe in dreams. Couldn’t make plans. But in time, grief loses its grip and it becomes possible to live again. To laugh. To plan.” Johnny turned to her. “Even to marry again.”
He held her with his powerful gaze. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think. Words came to her mouth that she dare not speak, and yet they pushed at her lips as if they must be spoken. She pressed her collarbone as pain stabbed at her chest. She dare not confess the truth about Adam. For his sake she must never speak of it. With a great deal of effort she jerked away from Johnny’s gaze.
If she ever married again it would not be for love. Love could not exist with secrets, and Adam’s parentage must remain a secret.
“Remarriage is not for me and it has nothing to do with grief.” Little did Johnny know that she did not grieve Bertie’s death except for one fact. It had caused her sisters to lose their home, but only because Mr. Reames was so uncharitable and untrue to his word. He’d led her to believe the girls would be safe if she married Bertie, which she had done. His death was in no way her responsibility. She’d done her best to persuade him not to drink. He’d simply laughed in her face and told her she couldn’t make him do anything. Sadly, it was true.
Johnny continued to watch her. Knowing he would say more on the matter, perhaps point out the benefits of a marriage, she decided it was time to turn the conversation to his personal life. “You’re a fine-looking man. I expect there are lots of young ladies eager for your attention. Anyone in particular?”
He cranked his head to look straight ahead.
Seemed she had touched a sore spot.
“No one in particular. Like you, I’m not interested in marriage.”
She gave a disbelieving snort. “Except I’ve already tried it. Have you?”
“Thankfully, I escaped just in time.”
“Really?” She tried and failed to imagine what might have gone wrong. Not only was Johnny fine-looking, she’d seen all kinds of other qualities a young lady might admire—his gentle nature, his kindness, the way he treated Adam.
Perhaps the young lady had died. But... “You said you ‘escaped.’ Isn’t that an odd word choice?”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug that she guessed was meant to inform her he didn’t care.
Now her curiosity kicked in. That one little word—escaped—informed her that whatever had happened, it had been hurtful. For some reason, Willow wanted to comfort him.
Finally he replied, “It’s not odd if it fits.”
“I see.” Except she didn’t. “Or at least I would if you care to explain it.”
“It’s not like it’s a secret. Everybody in the whole county knows what happened.”
Again, she felt a world of pain behind his words. But she said nothing. She had no right.
“I was about to be married.” He spoke softly as if lost in his memories, his attention straight ahead. “Trudy Dingman was her name. I loved her. Thought she loved me.” He paused for a beat of silence. “I was wrong. She only planned to use me.” In short, bri
sk statements, as if he meant to relay the story in as few words as possible, he told a tale that could be a mirror of Willow’s own. About a young woman pregnant by a man who disappeared. How she turned to Johnny, pretending to love him in order to have a name for her child. Not that Willow had pretended to love Bertie, though she’d done her best to be kind and obedient until Adam was born, and then she was more concerned with protecting him, especially when Bertie’s drinking spells grew worse.
“Her old beau returned and she dumped me to marry the man who had put her in the family way.” Johnny’s tone might be cold and indifferent, but it did not disguise the depth of his pain at being so callously used.
Willow pressed her palm to his forearm. “I’m sorry. No one deserves to be treated like that.”
He glanced at her hand.
Feeling more than a little embarrassed at touching him and offering him comfort, she withdrew and clasped her fingers together in her lap.
He pulled in a long breath, as if he hadn’t filled his lungs during the entire telling of his story. “I learned a valuable lesson. Don’t trust a woman just because she smiles sweetly at you and speaks the right words.” His jaw muscles bunched. “Without truth and trust in a relationship, a person has nothing.” He stared past her. “Nothing but lies, trickery and deceit. I’ll never trust a woman again.”
His words accused her. She had not been entirely truthful with him. Not that he had any right to expect she should be. They were but fellow travelers in search of her sisters.
“At twenty you’re a little young to be making such broad statements,” she told him. “Besides, didn’t you just say to me that, in time, grief loses its grip and it becomes possible to live again? To laugh? To plan? Even to marry again? Or in your case, to love again?”
The words echoed through her. If only time would change things.
But time could not undo the past.
Chapter Five
Johnny kept his attention on the road ahead. What had come over him to tell Willow his tale of woe? Maybe listening to her say she’d never marry again had brought his experience with Trudy back into sharp focus. He would not trust easily again, never sure he was getting the whole truth from any woman. “Time might heal things, but some lessons can’t be unlearned,” he told her. “Nor should they be.”
“I quite agree. Seems we both have reasons to choose to never marry.”
He could think of nothing more to add to the discussion, and silence settled between them. Slowly he brought his thoughts back to more pleasant topics than his past. He glanced down at Adam, asleep on his tummy, his knees bent so his little bottom stuck into the air. How could he sleep like that? It made Johnny’s back hurt just imagining it.
He shifted, resting against the back of the bench, and perched one foot on the front of the wagon, getting comfortable for the long ride.
Willow’s head bumped into his arm.
He looked at her and found that she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder. He eased his body around slightly so she rested more comfortably and, smiling to himself, he put his attention back on the road ahead.
Poor girl had a lot of bad stuff in her past. All those deaths had left her afraid to remarry, no doubt fearing she might again lose the love of her life. The least he could do was see she found her sisters and got settled in their newly rented house. Perhaps he’d go to town occasionally to check on her after that.
She wasn’t a lot different than Thad, and he was beginning to get over his grief. Willow would, too. If Johnny could do anything to help that process, well, he didn’t mind, so long as it didn’t interfere with helping Thad, and didn’t require anything more of him than an occasional visit. That should be safe enough.
They hit a bump and Willow jerked away. She wiped her mouth and scrubbed at her eyes. “I fell asleep.”
“Seems so.”
She looked at his arm. “How long have I been leaning against you?”
“Can’t rightly say. Didn’t mind.”
“There’s a wet spot on your sleeve where I drooled.” She rubbed at it, pink staining her cheeks. “My apologies. You should have wakened me.”
“Nothing wrong with sleeping. I know you didn’t get a lot last night what with little Adam fussing.”
They both looked at the baby. He snuffled and rolled to his side.
Willow brushed her hair back with her hands. “Travel is hard on him. It disrupts his routine. He likes to move about more than he can in the little space he has in the wagon. I feel bad that I have to make him endure this.”
Johnny tried to think what to say to ease her concern about the baby. Before he could find any suitable words, he noticed a tipped wagon by the side of the road ahead. Goods lay scattered about and several people hustled around the outfit. “Someone’s having trouble up there.”
She jolted upright and reached for her valise.
He’d left his rifle on Gray’s saddle and pulled the wagon to a halt to go back and retrieve it. All of which wakened young Adam, who whimpered. Willow scooped him into her lap and soothed him.
When Johnny returned to the bench, Adam reached for him. “Man,” he crowed and gurgled a chuckle.
It pleased Johnny to be greeted so cheerfully, but he’d have preferred to have the baby stay asleep, out of sight and out of harm’s way until he could be certain the group ahead didn’t pose a threat.
Willow must have shared the same thought. “He won’t be happy back in the wagon.”
They didn’t move as Johnny considered what might lie down the road. “It looks like a man and a woman and two children. We’ll see if they need help, but we’ll be cautious.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” The way she clutched the valise said she was ready for anything. She parked Adam on the bench between them and they simultaneously edged closer, crooking their elbows in front of the boy to keep him safely confined.
Adam patted both their arms and grinned at them. “Mama. Man.”
Johnny’s heart swelled inside his chest. This little guy had given him so many enjoyable moments. Just as quickly, his heart shriveled. He’d never have a son of his own, thanks to Trudy’s deceit. Unless he was willing to forget the past. His jaw clenched.
He urged the horse forward at a measured pace, which allowed him lots of time to evaluate the scene, as it did those ahead of them on the road. It might be to the advantage of both, since surprises generally weren’t advisable.
“Howdy,” he called, as soon as he was close enough to be heard. “Looks like you’ve had a bit of trouble.” He lowered his voice so only Willow heard him. “Just a family with a broken wagon. But be careful.”
The man straightened and waved. “Could use some help here.”
They drew up behind the goods scattered about. Johnny set the brake. “Stay here,” he murmured to Willow.
She nodded, pulling Adam tightly to her side, ignoring the way he reached out for Johnny.
“Man. Man.”
“The man has something to do,” Willow said. “We’ll wait here.”
Johnny saw at a glance that the wheel had come loose and the wagon had tipped over. The mister was well sweated up, as if he’d been trying to lift the wagon on his own. The youngsters, boys of about ten and twelve, wore strained looks, understandably worried about how they were going to get home.
The missus twisted her hands together as her gaze darted from her husband to her boys to the supplies on the ground.
“I’m Johnny Harding. I’ll lend you a hand.”
“Merv Lowland, and my wife and boys.”
Johnny wondered at the way the wife flinched, but set to work helping Merv. They found a sturdy branch and rolled a boulder close enough to form a fulcrum. Then, while he and Merv pried the wagon up, the two boys rolled the wheel in place. They didn’t get it quite
right the first time and Merv cussed at them.
Johnny’s lips tightened. That was no way to train boys, but he didn’t have the right to say so and interfering might make it worse for them once Johnny was out of sight. Instead, he gave calm directions to the lads. “We’ll try again. Boys, make sure the bottom is in farther this time.”
He and Merv lifted and the boys scurried to get the wheel in place.
“There. You’ve done it.” Johnny patted both boys on their backs as their father secured the wheel.
“Why are the lot of you standing around?” Merv roared. “Gather up those things and get them back in the wagon. Do I have to tell you everything?”
The boys and their mother hurried to obey.
Johnny, with no fear and a whole lot of anger, helped them pick up their belongings.
“Thank you so much, mister,” Mrs. Lowland said. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
“They’s all as useless as winter rain,” Merv groused.
Johnny was growing to dislike the man more every time he opened his mouth. Once the scattered goods were all back in the wagon, he straightened, gave Merv a look of disfavor, then spoke to them all. “I’ll be on my way now.” Johnny strode back to the wagon.
“Hello to your missus,” Mrs. Lowland called, in a half friendly, half lonesome tone.
He climbed up beside Willow and Adam. “Put him between us so we can keep him safe.” He felt the need to protect the boy from the ugliness of life—of which they had just had a glimpse.
Willow did so and they drove away, Johnny’s fists knotted about the reins. As they left the other wagon behind, his tension eased and he patted Adam’s little knee. “I will never understand the need to talk to people that way. Especially people a man is supposed to love and care for.”
Willow had also reached for her son and their hands met in the middle. Though their fingers brushed, neither of them pulled away. Johnny slowly raised his head and met her eyes. Saw the fierceness in them.