by Kirst, Karen
“Did he mention how that happened?” Nathan queried, leveling a challenging look at Landon.
Sensing an undercurrent of antagonism, Jedediah’s gaze bounced between the two men. “Ah, yes...he wasn’t watching where he was going and ran smack into a tree.”
“And you believe that pitiful story?” Caleb snorted.
Nathan nudged his knee against Caleb’s. With a quelling look, Josh spoke with quiet authority.
“That’s not how it happened.”
Having recovered from his initial shock, Landon regained control of himself. “How dare you come into my home and accuse me of being a liar. Father, I won’t stand for this. They’re here simply to stir up trouble. I want all of you out. Now.” His voice radiated insult and disbelief. What a performance.
“I’ve known these men all my life. Why would they want to cause trouble for you?”
Startled at not having his father’s immediate support, he affected an affronted scowl. “They’re jealous of my popularity. My success.”
Jedediah’s dawning disappointment permeated the room. “How did you break your nose, Landon?” he demanded. “The truth, this time.”
“I told you the truth.”
Impatient, Nathan surged to his feet. “Earlier today, Landon led Sophie Tanner to an isolated place and accosted her. She resisted and, in doing so, injured him.”
Hovering near the pie safe, Wanda’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror. “My baby wouldn’t do such a despicable thing!”
Jedediah’s complexion darkened, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he shoved out of the chair. “Sit down, son.”
“You believe him over me?”
“I can have the young lady in question brought over here to clear up the matter, if you’d like.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t have to listen to this.”
Jedediah halted his retreat with a rebuke. “As long as you live under my roof, you’ll respect your mother and me. Sit down.”
Tossing Nathan a look of pure hatred, Landon did as he was told. As the details unfolded, and Nathan proceeded to relate all that had transpired years earlier, Landon schooled his features to careless impassivity. He wasn’t the least bit sorry. And that niggled at Nathan.
Would he leave them alone? Or would he bide his time, waiting for a chance to get even?
Resting his hand on the Colt .45 at his waist, he leaned in, hovering over his enemy. “If you value your life, you’ll stay away from Sophie. Don’t approach her. Don’t look at her. Don’t even say her name.” The sight of her torn dress flashed through his mind, and his fingers tightened on the gun handle. “Erase her from your mind.”
Caleb edged to his side. “If you don’t heed Nathan’s warning, you won’t have just one O’Malley to worry about. Got it?”
Landon looked first at Josh, whose forbidding expression eliminated the need for words, then at Caleb and Nathan. His lip curled. “You think I care about that—”
“Be very careful, Greene,” Nathan growled. “My restraint has its limits.”
Jedediah scooted closer. “I think you’ve made your point, gentlemen.”
Silence, thick with tension, stretched through the room. Josh made the first move. Nodding, he touched Nathan’s arm. “Time to take our leave.”
Caleb pointed a finger at Landon. “I’ll be watching you.”
Outside, Nathan and his brothers mounted up.
Josh stroked his goatee. “That needed to be done. However, I’m not sure we didn’t throw grease on the fire.”
Caleb’s gloves tightened on the reins. “He’s a slick one. I say we warn Sophie to be on her guard.” He looked at Nathan. “He despises you. And since you and she are close...”
His gut clenched with dread. “Yeah, I already put two and two together. I’ll talk to her.” And pray she’ll listen.
Chapter Nineteen
A quarter of a mile past Main Street, Wayne and Amelia Lambert resided in a plain but roomy white clapboard house situated on a lovely plot of land dotted with weeping willows and crepe myrtles. When their youngest child had married and relocated to Maryville five years ago, the couple decided to open their home to paying visitors.
So far, Cordelia hadn’t voiced any complaints about her accommodations. On the contrary, she’d praised Amelia’s cooking—simple though it was—as well as her proficient management of her household. And though Amelia was about ten years older than Cordelia, the two women appeared to be striking up a friendship, a development that surprised Sophie. Her aunt’s prickly demeanor made it difficult for people to get close.
Walking down the worn path, Sophie spotted the two women on the wide, welcoming front porch, leisurely sipping tea on the porch swing. When they noticed her, Amelia waved. Cordelia didn’t smile, exactly, but her expression bordered on pleasant. That is, until Sophie came near enough for her to see her damaged lip.
“Amelia,” her aunt began, “I believe my niece and I have some things to discuss. Would you mind giving us a moment?”
Leave it to Cordelia to boss someone in their own house. Amelia didn’t seem to mind, however. A smile creasing her plump face, silver hair swept back in a simple bun, she came and patted Sophie’s hand. “Will is inside playing checkers with Wayne. As soon as you’re finished, come inside and have a drink and a snack.”
“I will. Thank you, Mrs. Lambert.”
When she had disappeared through the glass-paned door, Cordelia indicated the empty space beside her with an incline of her head. “Come and sit, Sophia.” Bare-headed and dressed in a casual gray skirt and white blouse, she didn’t cut quite as imposing a figure as usual.
Sophie sank onto the swing, setting it to rocking, exhaustion seeping into her bones. She hadn’t slept well the night before—tossing and turning amid disturbing dreams of losing Will—and after the trying meal at the Dennisons’, the altercation with Landon and the horrible scene with Nathan, she was drained. Depleted of energy. Defeat sat like a heavy railroad tie across her shoulders, and hope for a brighter future was nothing more than a distant memory.
Balancing her glass on the white porch railing, Cordelia angled slightly to study her. “Do you care to tell me how you acquired that busted lip, young lady?”
Sophie ran a finger along the crease in her blue pants. After Nathan had left, she’d changed into her most comfortable pair, and brushing out her hair, plaited it as she used to. Just for today, she’d needed to feel like her old self.
“Do you know who Landon Greene is?”
One brow arched. “He’s the young upstart who blathered on and on the day you bowled everyone over with your new look.”
“That’s him.” Gaze lowered to her lap, Sophie related the afternoon’s events.
“He should be whipped!” Cordelia exclaimed with more emotion than she’d hitherto displayed, furiously fanning herself, bright flags of color in her cheeks. “However, I will say that you handled yourself quite well. Your unconventional upbringing aided you in this instance. A broken nose is the least he deserves.”
Having expected a dressing-down for her unladylike actions, Sophie could only stare at the rare praise. “I thought you’d be angry.”
“For defending yourself? No.” Her pearl-handled fan paused midair. “In the city, you would’ve had a chaperone, of course.” She sighed. “As for that dreadful scene at the wedding last evening, I hear you were defending your brother’s honor. While I don’t condone your actions, I at least understand the reasons behind them.” Her lips turned down. “Growing up, I sometimes liked to pretend that Lester wasn’t my brother. In my daydreams, I imagined a very different sibling, someone who would protect me and play with me.” She shook away the thoughts. “But dreaming didn’t get me anywhere. It took leaving this place to change my situation.”
>
This was the first time her aunt had willingly opened up about her childhood. “I suppose him taking off was actually a good thing for Will and me.”
Cordelia relaxed back against the bench and lowered the fan to her lap. “Yes, I believe it was. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve seen how much you care for Will.”
A lump formed in her throat. “I love him very much. Sometimes I feel more like his mother than his sister.” When her aunt remained silent, Sophie cautiously ventured, “Are you certain you won’t change your mind about my need to marry? Now that you’ve seen the depth of my devotion?”
Her chin set at a stubborn angle. “Since you refuse to come and live with me, I want to see you settled before I leave. It’s what your granddad would’ve wanted.”
“What about love?” Sophie countered hotly, resentment knotting in her chest. Not that she’d ever find love—her heart would forever belong to Nathan. Her aunt shouldn’t have any say whatsoever in where or how Sophie lived, but the prospect of having to fight for custody choked off further argument.
Please, God, help me not to harbor anger toward this woman who’s more like a stranger than family.
“Love?” Cordelia huffed a dry laugh. “Love is a foolish emotion, my dear. I’m certain your poor ma fancied herself in love with Lester when she married him, and where did that get her?
“Lawrence and I married because of the many advantages we each brought to the union. We coexisted quite peacefully for twenty-five years without the burden of romantic entanglements.”
She patted Sophie’s knee. “Forget romance, my dear. Find yourself a sensible man, someone you respect and trust. That’s far more important.”
Sophie watched a blue jay flit to the railing and perch there for a time as she admired its brilliant color and interesting face. Clouds had rolled in during her walk over, and now thunder sounded in the distance even as raindrops splattered on the steps.
Cordelia rescued her glass from the sudden onslaught and stood. “It looks like you and Will will be joining us for supper.”
Sophie stopped at the steps and peeked up at the blackening sky. “I didn’t think to bring an umbrella.”
“Come on, Amelia always makes extra food.”
Cordelia held the door open, waiting to be obeyed, as usual.
Sophie preceded her inside the house, spirits turbulent and gloomy like the storm whipping up outside. Tomorrow she would go and see Frank. She would make the sensible choice.
* * *
The rain didn’t let up until the following morning. Thick, white mist clung to the treetops, an incessant drip-drip-drip echoing through the understory. Beyond their front stoop, puddles filled the yard.
Sophie didn’t relish the prospect of venturing out—a minute or two in that and they’d be a muddy mess—but something told her that if she didn’t pay Frank a visit today, she would chicken out.
Will gave her an earful of complaints. “Why can’t we wait until tomorrow?” he grumbled for the third time as he stuffed his head through the slicker. “What’s so important?”
Umbrella held aloft, Sophie’s boot tapped the floor impatiently. “As I’ve already told you, Frank and I have important business to discuss.” Fingers on the latch, she swung the door wide. Her hand flew to her throat.
“Nathan!” Clad in a drenched slicker, black hat tugged so low it nearly obscured his eyes, his hand was lifted to knock.
With a little squeal, Will fisted Nathan’s sleeve. “Can you stay with me?” he pleaded. “I don’t wanna go to Frank’s. I wanna stay here.”
Shifting the basket to his other arm, Nathan’s guarded gaze shot to hers. “I didn’t realize you were going out. Ma asked me to deliver a couple of loaves of sourdough bread and some cheese.”
“That’s very kind of her,” she managed to say, stepping back to make room for him to enter. Conscious of the water sluicing onto her floor, he didn’t venture far into the room, staying near the row of hooks holding their coats, scarves and hats. If he noticed her braided hair and the pants peeking out from beneath her slicker, he didn’t let on. A girl should be dressed up when she went fishing for a marriage proposal, but the weather combined with her mood had eclipsed that notion.
Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we, Sophie?
Accepting the cloth-covered bundle, she carried it to the table, oblivious to the mouth-watering aromas wafting upward.
“Can’t you stay and play checkers with me while Sophie conducts business with Frank? I promise to let you win at least once,” Will wheedled. “Please?”
Her back to the room, Sophie winced. Business with Frank. That sounded so...so impersonal.
“I don’t know,” Nathan hedged. “Your sister may want you to accompany her.”
Sadness washed over her. After her marriage, both her and Will’s relationship with Nathan would change. He wouldn’t be dropping in whenever the mood hit, wouldn’t be delivering food or lending a helping hand around the farm or taking Will fishing. If he agreed to marry her, Frank would be assuming the role of both husband and father.
Spinning around, she forced a too-bright smile. “Actually, Nathan, I’d appreciate it if you could hang around. I’m certain I won’t be gone long, and Will would love to spend time with you. That is, if you don’t have pressing matters to attend to.”
His gaze narrowed and she feared he could see through to her soul. He gave a curt nod in her direction before aiming a tight smile at his buddy.
“I’d like that.”
“Terrific!”
As Will shrugged out of his rain gear and tugged off his boots, Sophie hurried to the door, anxious to make her escape. But she paused in the doorway, arrested by Nathan’s sober expression, watching as he hung his hat up and, retrieving his handkerchief, mopped the rainwater from his neck. What she wouldn’t give to rewind time, to go back to when life was simple.
“I’d like a word with you before you leave.”
Avoiding his gaze, she picked up her umbrella. “What about?”
“Not here.” Moving close enough for her to catch a whiff of his spicy aftershave, he reached around her to tug open the door. His rock-hard chest bumped her shoulder. “Sorry.” To Will, he said, “I’ll be outside with your sister for a few minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll set up the checkers.”
The stoop wasn’t large. Huddled beneath the overhang with him, the rain boxing them in lent the situation disturbing intimacy. Her obvious reasons for going to see Frank hung in the air, an invisible yet tangible barrier.
Water droplets clung to his sleek hair, sparkling in the light penetrating the window glass. “After leaving here yesterday, my brothers and I paid Landon and his family a visit.”
“You did what?” She raked his person for obvious signs of injury. Seeing none, she threw up her hands. “Why? I thought you weren’t going to confront him.”
“I never said that. You assumed.” Folding his arms, he raised a mocking brow, a silent reminder of their argument over her first outing with Landon.
“What happened?”
Anger darkened his eyes to smoky gray, a reflection of the dreary day. “He denied everything, of course.”
“And his parents? Did they believe you?”
“Jedediah accepted our account of what happened more easily than I’d anticipated. I think he’s seen signs along the way that all wasn’t right with Landon. Wanda had a harder time coming to terms with it.”
Sophie thought of April. “I think it’s easy for some parents to blind themselves to their children’s faults to the point of it being unhealthy.”
“Sophie, we think he still may be a threat to you. I want you to promise me you’ll stay alert to your surroundings. Don’t go anywhere near him.”
“Why would he bother me again? Especially aft
er what I did to him. He knows I can take care of myself.”
Genuine concern passed over his features. “Exposing him was the right thing to do, but you didn’t see his utter lack of remorse. He simply doesn’t care if he hurts others, including his own family. The outright hatred in his eyes when he looked at me... I’m afraid he’ll try to exact revenge by targeting you.”
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she suppressed a shiver. What Landon couldn’t know was that she really wasn’t all that important to Nathan. He’d incorrectly assigned a relationship that simply didn’t exist.
“Promise me, Soph,” he said quietly, rigid steel punctuating his words.
“I promise.”
When he continued to stare at her, she rolled her eyes. “I have absolutely zero desire to be around that man. You have no reason to worry.” She opened her umbrella. “Look, I have to go. Thanks for watching Will for me.”
Looking unconvinced, he merely nodded.
What more could she say? She left him standing there, acutely aware that she was headed for a future she hadn’t asked for and certainly didn’t want.
* * *
The journey to the Walters’ place wasn’t nearly long enough. The modest spread a mile east of town was smaller even than hers. Neat as a pin, the dogtrot-style cabin tucked into a narrow cove. Riding into the yard, Sophie dismounted next to the two-pen barn. Faint music filtered from the right side of the structure.
Frank.
Praying for courage, she eased open the door and entered the cozy lamp-lit space, the smell of damp hay and livestock heavy in the air. Against the opposite wall, Frank sat on a low stool usually reserved for milking, strumming his banjo. The lively tune defied the dreary weather outside.
Catching movement, he lifted his head and his fingers stilled on the strings. “Hi, Sophie.” Standing, he rested his instrument on the stool and gave her a smile riddled with questions. “You caught me playing hooky.”
Sweeping off her hat, she glanced around to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Not much you can do with all this rain.” She gestured to the banjo. “That was a pretty song. What is it?”