by Linda Ford
“Obeying is the surest way to a peaceful life.”
He withdrew his hands. “I suspect it is, but life isn’t always so neat and orderly. Sometimes, even when we do everything in our power to do what is right, bad things happen anyway.”
“I don’t mean to imply they won’t. It’s just...” She rolled her head back and forth, then her expression grew fierce. “I can’t bear to think of my stories being mocked because they are written by a woman.”
He realized they were back to talking about her writing, when his thoughts had shifted to his situation. “Well, all I can say is it’s a shame you don’t share your stories.”
“I share them with Grady.”
“He’s a fortunate little boy.”
“Not because of my stories. But because Linette and Eddie love him like he was their own.”
“I thought he was.”
She told him how Grady’s father had rejected him when Linette rescued him, after his mother died on the trip across the ocean.
The story ripped through Brand. Why couldn’t fathers be what God intended them to be?
Sybil squeezed his hand. “God has provided for him just as He’s promised to provide for all of us.”
Had Brand’s expression revealed something that hinted at his distress over his pa? Was that why she offered comfort? He wanted to argue with her. Demand to know how God had provided for him. But of course God had given him an upright ma. That was all he’d needed. “Some are not as fortunate as Grady.”
She nodded, her eyes wide with sorrow. “How sad that you are right.”
Did she realize she clung to his hand? That her expression beseeched him to make the world better? He touched her cheek. “Don’t let it sadden you. People learn to adjust to a lot of things.” He trailed his fingertip to the corner of her mouth and leaned closer.
She stiffened, pulled away. “What a tragic statement about mankind. We learn to adjust to bad things.” She sighed deeply. “Life should not be that way.”
He jerked his hands to his lap. Had he thought to kiss her? He must be losing his mind.
For certain, he was losing his grip on the reality of his situation. He shoved rock-hard determination into his heart. He could no longer act as if he lived in a make-believe world.
He cleaned his plate and held it out to her. “Thank you for bringing it, and thank Linette for me, please.”
Sybil took the plate, studied him for a heartbeat. No doubt saw he’d withdrawn, saw his dismissal. Surely she understood this was no place for a lady, and he was certainly not the kind of company a lady should keep.
With a nod, she got to her feet. “I’ll tell her.”
As she crossed toward the gate, he almost changed his mind and asked her to stay a little longer.
But that would be downright stupid.
She turned before she shut the gate. “Good night, Brand. Good night, Dawg. Sleep well, both of you.”
“Good night,” he murmured, hoping he managed to keep all regret from his voice.
He should be saying goodbye.
* * *
Sybil slipped past the occupied living room, calling out, “I’m going to bed. Good night, all.”
She wondered if Mercy would trot after her, demanding to know why she didn’t stop to visit, and probing her with questions about Brand, but after a few minutes, it seemed she wouldn’t.
Sybil collapsed on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Brand had suggested she publish her stories. He meant the ones she told Grady. Had her heart not burned within her at his words? To be recognized as the author of the stories she published...to feel free to submit more...well, it filled her stomach with fluttering butterflies. And made her want to laugh. She was both thrilled and frightened at the idea.
Why had she not confessed she’d published stories under the Ellis West name?
She sat up and stared at her feet. Why had she not told him she wanted to write a story about him and submit it for publication?
Would he be so encouraging about her stories if she had? Would he still suggest there were times a person should step outside of safe boundaries?
She shivered—again with both fear and excitement. No doubt Brand followed his own rules. But where had that gotten him? Alone. Nameless. His only friend a dog that barely survived his wounds.
Brand was everything she didn’t need or want.
What she needed and wanted was safety, security.... She pressed her lips tight and squeezed her eyes to stop the threatening tears. And the freedom to write and publish her stories under her own name.
At least she’d been able to publish as Ellis West. That was enough, she told herself.
She pulled out her notes and glanced over them. But she had very little to add.
Because, she realized with a start, in her visits to the barn she’d revealed more about herself than she’d discovered about Brand.
Tomorrow she would remedy the situation.
Questions she wanted to ask flitted through her brain, chased by the fact that she needed to be honest with him about her intention of writing his story.
Why bother telling him?
Because it feels underhanded to pretend I’m interested for any other reason.
Cough. Cough. Wouldn’t that be a lie?
She closed her mind to the inner voice. Truth or lie, she wouldn’t admit there was any other reason.
Not unless she sought for a way to have her heart fractured into a million pieces. She didn’t.
Why not convince him to stay?
Huh. I never thought of that.
Well, think about it. Maybe it’s time for him to put his past behind him and face the future.
The next day her plan seemed even more reasonable, and she grinned at the basin of potatoes she was scrubbing for the meal. The grin clung to the lining of her heart and tickled the corners of her mouth later as she took a plate to Brand, leaving Sam Stone from the nearby OK Ranch visiting with Eddie and the others.
Sybil handed Brand the plate of food, then sat with her back against the wall of the pen. Would he guess she meant to have a serious, and perhaps long, talk with him?
He settled down beside her and began to eat.
She shifted to study him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Don’t see how I can stop you. But I don’t have to answer.”
She’d thought carefully about how to approach the subject. If she came at it indirectly, perhaps he wouldn’t resist her questions.
“Don’t you get lonely?”
* * *
His fist curled against his leg. His heart tightened so each beat hurt as if it squeezed out shards of blood. “I got Dawg.”
The twitch of her eyebrows informed him she thought the answer less than adequate.
Brand looked at his plate of food. He looked at Dawg, who rested at his feet. Lonely? The word didn’t half describe the empty hours, the silent days, the cold nights. Any more than it described the constant pressure at the back of his neck as he watched for the sudden appearance of the Duggan gang. Being alone hurt. But it sure beat having Pa and Cyrus for company.
Brand couldn’t continue to ignore Sybil. Her gaze bored into him.
“Something really dreadful must have happened in your life to make you constantly run.” She waited, an expectant silence in which his heart strained at its seams.
He could deny it, but knew she wouldn’t believe him. “Guess you could say that.”
“I’m supposing it’s why you won’t reveal your surname.”
I’m a no-good Duggan. His nerves twitched. He’d been here longer than was wise. But he couldn’t leave. Not because of the horses. Not because of Dawg. Even though he knew he might have cause to wish he wasn’t so foolish, he couldn’t tear himself away
from her company.
Nor could he tear himself away from the look in her eyes offering hope and so much more.
She smiled so gently it loosened the cruel fist around his heart.
“You could stop running. Confront your past.”
“If only I could.” He touched her cheek. Soft as a dewy rose petal. Pink as an autumn sunrise. The color no doubt heightened by his bold touch. “You almost persuade me.” If anything could change his circumstances he would stay. Forever. Content to be in the circle of her smile.
“I wish it could be more than almost. Think about it, won’t you?” And she placed her hand over his, pressing it firmly to her cheek.
“Would it matter to you?”
She lowered her lashes to hide her eyes, then met his gaze, her eyelashes fluttering. “It matters,” she whispered. “I pray you’ll find what you need.”
“For what?”
“To trust God with your past, your present and your future.”
A present and a future of enjoying her company? Was it possible? Eddie would give him a job. He’d already offered. And then what? What about Brand’s past?
Maybe Pa and Cyrus would forget about him. Maybe they already had. He sighed. Yeah, and maybe winter wouldn’t come this year. The sun wouldn’t rise in the east. And he could be a free man.
Not going to happen. Not with a wanted poster for the Duggans.
But with winter coming on, could he hope to remain here undetected for a few months? Would God give him a chance at a regular life? But then what?
Maybe he could have only a few weeks, a few months, but wouldn’t it be worth it?
“I guess I need to let Dawg rest a few more days.” It was all Brand could give her. All he could give himself.
Her eyes flickered, acknowledging that his answer wasn’t what she sought. “I pray you will discover you don’t need to keep running and hiding.” She looked at him with such hope and assurance that his resistance disappeared like a wisp of smoke.
“You are determined to give me hope, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” She leaned closer. “You deserve it.”
He wasn’t sure what she thought he deserved. More than was possible, for certain. But her sweet face begged to be kissed. And he lowered his head and caught her lips in a gentle caress.
She sat back and stared at him.
But she couldn’t be any more surprised by his actions than he. His pulse took off in a wild gallop. What was there about this woman that unsettled him so much he forgot who he was, what he must do?
Brand fully expected she would rise in her dignified way and make some excuse as to why she must leave. But instead she continued to study him.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do you wish I hadn’t?” He didn’t regret it for one moment.
“No. But I wonder what it means.”
“I don’t know for sure, except you make me forget everything I should remember.”
Her eyes crinkled in gentle laughter. “I’m hoping you mean that as a good thing.”
“It feels right and good at the moment.”
She nodded. “For me, too.”
His grin widened until he thought his face might crack.
They shifted, sat with their backs to the rough wood of the pen, their shoulders touching, as Dawg snored and snorted on his bed, and Brand finished the temporarily forgotten meal.
“Gonna miss all this good cooking.”
“You could enjoy Cookie’s meals all winter if you wanted.”
He put the empty plate aside and smiled at Sybil. “You make me wish I could. But it’s not possible.”
“So you keep saying. Why isn’t it?” She grabbed his arm. “Why?”
“It’s not, and that’s all I can say.” His heart lay heavy in his chest. If only things could be different.
“I don’t understand.”
“Sybil—” But before he could voice what he meant to say, the barn door creaked open and sunlight flared into the interior.
“Glad you could stop by.” It was Eddie, bringing Mr. Stone to get his horse. Brand had been introduced to the owner of the neighboring ranch earlier, when Mr. Stone dropped by and was invited to join them for supper.
“Thanks for the meal.” Sam threw the saddle blanket on his horse, then paused. “Have you heard about the recent robberies? The bank at Fort Macleod was robbed and a farmer north of there reported cash and goods had been taken while he was away from the place. Constable Allen says it’s the work of the Duggan gang. He says they could be headed this direction.”
Brand jolted forward, listening intently.
“I’ll be watchful,” Eddie said. “Thanks for the warning.”
Sam led his horse out, called a goodbye and rode away.
Eddie came to the pen to check on them. “How’s he doing?” He tipped his head toward Dawg.
“Almost good as new,” Brand replied. Good enough to travel.
He waited for Eddie to leave, and then, his jaw hard, his voice firm, he said, “I’ll be on my way in the morning.” He’d collect his wages tonight.
“I hoped you would stop running.” Her voice quavered.
“I can’t.”
“Why? Don’t we all have the power to make our own choices?”
“Sounds good and noble. Doesn’t always work.”
“Why not? Brand, what it is you are running from?”
His gaze jerked to hers. He must deny any reason for running. Even more than that, he must deny any reason for wanting to stay. He’d been foolhardy to linger as long as he had.
“Dawg is a very fine animal, but a man needs more than a dog.” Sybil swallowed hard. “Brand, would you stay if I asked you?”
He scrubbed his lips together. Pulled his gaze toward the wall. He dipped into the reservoir of strength and shook his head. “Don’t ask. I can’t stay.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Same thing either way. I’ll be heading off in the morning.”
She sank to the floor beside his dog and petted him. “What will happen to Dawg?”
“He’ll come with me. As you pointed out, he’s my only companion.”
“You could have more. So much more.”
Brand couldn’t face the pain and disapproval in her eyes. He ached for what she offered. But the Duggan gang was too close.
If only he could stop running.
But as long as he was a Duggan, he might as well dream of finding gold in his pockets.
Sybil reached for the empty plate. He didn’t want her to leave, but what was the point in asking her to stay? Every minute in her company made it that much harder to walk away without a backward look.
Brand saddled his horse at first light. Dawg limped after him, whimpering. “It’s okay, old boy. I won’t make you walk.”
Other cowboys went in and out of the barn, ready to start their day’s work. Dawg growled halfheartedly and Brand simply ignored them.
Cal grabbed a saddle, shot him a challenging look. Brand let it slide off him. Always some young buck wanting to prove something. Let him go ahead and prove whatever he thought he must. Brand wouldn’t be around to dispute Cal’s accomplishments.
He led his horse from the barn, lifted Dawg in front of the saddle and swung up behind him. He pulled the dog close, holding him gently.
He cast one last glance up the hill to the big house. A shadow flickered past a window. Was it Sybil? Just in case, he touched the brim of his hat. Goodbye, sweet girl. Thanks for trying to get me to stay.
“I’ll show you who’s boss.” Cal’s harsh words drew Brand’s attention.
Cal rode a little black gelding Brand had green broke the first day. Only he jerked on the reins, sawed the bit in the horse’
s mouth. Brand would have called out a warning, but it was too late.
With a wild snort that signaled both pain and protest, the horse lowered his head and gave a back-cracking buck that sent Cal over his head into a mud puddle. His mount snorted and raced to the far corner.
Cal scrambled to his feet. Several cowboys watched him, but Cal zeroed in on Brand. “You.” He jabbed his finger in his direction. “You got paid good money to have these horses ready to ride. And this is what we get?” He stomped off.
Brand called to him. “You’re not handling the horse right. You’re too hard on his mouth.”
Cal shook a fist at him and stalked away.
Brand felt the study of the half dozen cowboys. Yes, the horses were ready to ride. But only if handled with a little common sense. However, the black gelding would now think he could unseat any rider.
Band watched the horse trotting around the corral, and considered his options. If he left now, he would surely be out of Pa and Cyrus’s reach in a few days. However, he could not, in good conscience, leave Eddie with a horse that couldn’t be ridden. Another day. No more, he vowed.
Would Sybil realize he hadn’t left, and pay him a visit?
“I’ll take care of that horse,” he announced, and returned his horse and dog to the barn.
He spent the morning working with the horse, teaching it to obey him. He positioned himself so he could see the big house. But the sun was high overhead before he caught a glimpse of Sybil. She stepped outside, the sun pooling in her hair. She scanned the pens and corrals until her gaze stopped on him. Had she seen him?
She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun and continued to look in his direction. Then she picked up her skirts and hustled down the hill, not slowing her steps until she reached the rail fence. “Eddie said you were still here.” Her voice was breathless.
“Had to finish my job.”
“That’s what he said.” Her gaze went deep into Brand’s heart, demanding more than an excuse.
Oh, how he wished he could offer more. But nothing had changed. Except he was still here. Even though it must be temporary, he might as well make the most of it. “Want to help me walk Dawg this afternoon?” It was the weakest invite any woman ever had, but it was the best he could do.