Bandit whined.
“Julia?”
A few moments passed before she appeared at the top of the ladder. “Come up and see. We have a new litter of kittens.”
“I didn’t know you had a cat.”
“Neither did I.” She disappeared from view, her soft laughter trailing behind her.
He couldn’t resist climbing the ladder if only to follow that delightful sound. In the corner of the loft, a motley calico cat — her long hair matted — had made a nest for herself in the hay, and a half dozen newborn kittens were attached to the teats on her belly. Julia, kneeling on the floor of the loft, watched them from several feet away.
“I don’t know where she came from. She isn’t feral, and she doesn’t seem to have missed too many meals. She let me pet her, and I even held one of the kittens. They must have been born today.”
He knelt beside her. “They look like vermin.”
“What a horrid thing to say. They’re beautiful.”
Beautiful? That was not the term he would use to describe the newborn kittens. Not when they were tiny and hairless and their eyes stuck closed.
“All new life is beautiful,” Julia said softly.
He looked at her, saw the sweetness in her expression, seemed to catch a glimpse of her hopes and dreams. You’re the one who’s beautiful.
As if she’d heard his thought, she looked up, their gazes meeting. Her smile slowly faded. He wanted to bring it back but didn’t know how.
She looked away. “Don’t you like cats, Hugh?” Her voice sounded strained.
“They’re all right.” He’d have liked a cat in his prison cell, if only to keep down the population of rats and mice, but he couldn’t tell her that. “Can’t say as I was ever around them much.”
“I had a cat when I was young. A stray that I found rummaging in the garbage behind the house where my mother and I lived.”
You like to take in strays, don’t you, Julia? Alley cats. Thirsty strangers on horseback.
Once again, she seemed to know what he was thinking. Her gaze returned to rest upon him, and in her eyes he saw the compassion she felt for any of God’s creatures in need. She’d befriended him as she’d befriended this cat and her kittens.
Except Hugh didn’t have friends. Hadn’t had a friend since he was a boy. Then he’d had friends. Lots of them. Boys his own age who’d gotten into mischief with him, who’d teased their sisters just like he’d teased his own, who’d grown too tall for their pants the same way he had that last year before his mum died.
At the memory, regret slammed into him. Regret for the innocence lost that could never be recovered. Regret for the life that might have been but could no longer be. If there was one thing he could undo about his past, he would change the day his father came to that farm in Nebraska. If he had it to do over, he would look Sweeney Brennan straight in the eye and refuse to go back to Chicago with him. Because from the moment he’d left that farm with his dad, he’d traveled a road leading straight to perdition. But how could a boy of fourteen know his own father would betray him in so many ways? Even now, in hindsight, it was hard to believe.
No, a man like Hugh didn’t have friends. Especially not a woman as lovely and gentle as Julia Grace.
He got to his feet. “I need to wash up.”
“Hugh? Is something —”
“Been a long, hot day.” He moved down the ladder and out of her sight.
Julia sat back on her heels, her gaze returning to the cat and kittens. She’d offended Hugh in some way. She was sure of it. There’d been a moment when he looked at her that she’d thought … that she’d felt …
She shook her head, not wanting to explore what she’d thought or what she’d felt.
“What made you change your mind about me?”
She didn’t know the answer to Hugh’s question anymore now than she had when he’d asked it. Not really. Maybe her change of mind had been the nudging of the Holy Spirit, an act of compassion. Maybe it had been out of desperation; she’d needed a ranch hand and he’d needed work. Or maybe there was something about Hugh —
Julia stood quickly, more determined than ever to end such thoughts. “You need a bed, kitty. I’ll have to find you something.”
The cat meowed, as if in agreement, before pulling one of the kittens up to her face and beginning to wash it with her tongue.
Julia climbed down the ladder. Bandit immediately hopped to his feet and came to her side. She stroked his head. “We have seven new members of the family, boy, and you’re not to chase any of them. Agreed?”
The dog’s gaze was disapproving.
“Come on.” Her good mood restored, she laughed and patted his head a second time. “We’d better get supper started.”
Bandit understood what that meant — food! — and led the way out of the barn, making straight for the house. But Julia paused as she stepped into the sunlight. Her gaze went to the pump where Hugh was bent over, his head under the stream of cold water gushing from the faucet. Then he straightened and, with both hands, swept his dark hair back from his face. He exuded strength and masculinity as he stood there, water dripping from his face and hair.
A strange sensation gripped her as she watched him. A feeling she couldn’t name. A feeling that frightened her by its intensity. He noticed her then. Saw her staring at him. Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks. She averted her eyes and hurried across the barnyard into the house.
What’s wrong with me?
She had learned, early in her marriage, not to make eye contact with other men. Not even to look in their direction if she could help it. It had become habit to keep her gaze locked on the ground a few feet in front of her. Angus had been a jealous man, and it had taken only a little to ignite his anger. A friendly smile from the banker. A nod from the butcher. A word from one of the ranch hands.
But I don’t need to be afraid any longer.
She stopped in the middle of the parlor and willed her heart to cease its wild pounding.
Angus can no longer touch me. He can’t hurt me. I don’t have to live the way I used to live.
She turned toward the open front door, and even though she couldn’t see Hugh Brennan, that same odd feeling fluttered inside of her again. Her world seemed to tilt and spin in a new direction. For years, she’d tamped down her emotions, kept them boxed up, private, secret, even from herself. She’d learned to control her thoughts, her will, her expressions, even her hopes for the future. That hadn’t changed much after Angus died. But now?
Something was altering, had already altered, and she feared what that might mean.
Hugh found an empty crate in the far corner of the barn. There were no exposed nails, and it was a good size. Big enough to hold a mother cat and her new brood. With a bit of hay and some old rags, it would make a good bed.
It didn’t take long to find the things he needed. Once the crate was ready, he placed it in an empty stall before going up to the loft and bringing the feline family down to ground level, a couple of kittens at a time. “You’ll like it down here,” he told the cat as she followed him to the ladder on his final trip, the last two kittens in his hands.
She meowed her concern for her offspring before finding her own way down from the loft. By the time Hugh reached the stall, the mother cat was on his heels again.
“You’re welcome.” He set the kittens in the center of the box with their siblings.
The cat jumped in and did a quick inventory, sniffing each kitten, making certain all were present. Then she lay down and let her kittens begin to nurse once again.
A sound drew Hugh around. There was Julia, a blanket in her arms, about to climb the ladder to the loft.
“They aren’t up there,” he said, stepping out of the stall.
She stopped, a look of surprise crossing her face. She obviously hadn’t seen or heard him.
“I brought them down here.” He motioned behind him with his head. “Didn’t want to chance them falling out of th
e loft once they begin to walk.”
Julia came to stand beside him, her gaze finding the crate. “You made them a bed.”
“Thought it would be more comfortable.”
“You brought them down from the loft.” She looked at him. “And I was afraid you didn’t like cats.” A small smile bowed the corners of her mouth. “You’re very thoughtful, Mr. Brennan.”
Warmed by the compliment more than he wanted to admit to himself, he shrugged.
“I brought a blanket.” She held it away from her waist. “Looks like it isn’t needed.”
“Not yet. But they won’t stay confined to that crate for long. Why not leave it nearby?”
“I’ll do that.” She opened the gate and stepped into the stall.
Hugh watched as she moved straw and hay around, forming a large nest. Then she spread the blanket on top of it before reaching into the box and stroking the cat’s head. “I’ll bring you some milk and scraps later,” she whispered.
She captivated him. With her words. With her smile. With her gentle ways. And whether or not a man like Hugh deserved it, he was glad she felt friendly toward him. Maybe her friendship was offered only because he appeared to be a stray, like that cat, but it didn’t matter. He would accept it and return it, for whatever time they were allowed.
ELEVEN
Julia had worn dark-colored clothes — deep umbers and stony grays — for years before and for many months following her husband’s death. She’d chosen them because they so accurately reflected the dark nature of her marriage and her life. But little by little, in the months since Angus died, God had broken through the darkness and begun to heal her by the touch of His Holy Spirit. With that change, she’d started to wear light-colored clothes in different hues, yellows and blues being her favorites.
On this Sunday in May, she pulled a fawn-colored split riding skirt from the wardrobe, along with a robin’s-egg-blue blouse. Both had been gifts from Rose, but they’d never been worn. Her friend’s dinner seemed the right occasion to change that.
When she stepped outside at the appointed hour, she found Teddy and Hugh’s horse saddled and bridled. Hugh stood nearby, handsome in dark wool trousers and a white shirt — neither of them new and both badly wrinkled, no doubt from being stuffed in a saddlebag for more than thirteen hundred miles. His boots had been shined and his hat brushed clean.
He showed one of his brief smiles when he saw her. Then he led the horses toward her, and as he passed Teddy’s reins into her outstretched hand, he said, “You look mighty pretty, Julia.”
“Thanks,” she answered softly. But she hadn’t worn the new outfit to catch his notice. Had she? In all honesty, she couldn’t say for sure. What she did know was that she was drawn to this man, despite her past and despite knowing so little about him.
Hugh swung into the saddle, and she did the same. They turned their horses and rode away from the house. It wasn’t until they’d reached the main road that Hugh broke the lengthy silence.
“Julia.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be meeting the Collins children. Maybe I should know their names so I don’t insult anybody.”
His comment caused her to smile. “Peter and Rose wouldn’t think ill of you if you couldn’t remember or if you mixed them up. It’s easy to do. Even I do it on occasion.”
“All the same …” He looked over at her, waiting.
“They seem to be working their way through the alphabet. That’s the easiest way to remember them. And every name is taken from the Bible. Starting with the oldest, there’s Abigail, Bathshua, Charity, Dinah, Eden, Faith, Gomer, Hope, India, and Jemima, the baby, who I call Jem.”
Hugh released a soft whistle. “I’m doomed.”
Laughter burbled up in Julia’s chest. “When I can’t remember who is who, I simply call them ‘girls.’ They answer to that well enough.”
“Mum sometimes did the same with my sisters, and there were only two of them.”
She was pleased that he’d chosen to share something about himself without her asking. “I always wished I’d had a sister.”
“It was okay … most of the time.”
Julia caught a glimpse of the boy he must have been — happy, eager, without a care in the world. “And where are they now? Your sisters.”
He gave his head a slow shake, his smile disappearing. “Not sure. Felicia, she’s the older of the two, she’s supposed to be in a town near Boise City. Diana is the youngest. I don’t know for sure where she is. Montana was the last known location but that was a lot of years ago.” He squinted up at the sun. “Our mum died when we were kids, and we got separated soon after, placed out with families in the West. Now I’m set on finding them.”
It was an abundance of information from a man who had said little about himself over the past two-and-a-half weeks. Julia found herself wanting to know even more. Why had it taken him so long to begin searching for his sisters? Where had he grown up? Had he had a good childhood despite losing his mother at a young age?
She swallowed the questions. She would let him keep his secrets so she could keep hers.
In Rose’s opinion, her brother, Roland March, looked every bit the successful attorney that he was in his suit and starched collar. He hadn’t changed out of his Sunday best when they returned from church, and she was glad of it. She wanted him to look good for company. Well, to be honest, she wanted him to look good for Julia.
Except for Peter, Rose didn’t know as good a man as her big brother. He was kind and generous and honest. He had a successful law practice in Portland, Oregon. While some might not go so far as calling him handsome, he had a pleasant face. If he had a fault, it was that he was too … mundane … for his own good. At least that was true when it came to matters of the heart. He could argue fine points of the law with the best of them, but his rare attempts at making small talk with young women failed miserably.
Now that their parents had both passed on, Rose wanted to see her brother married. She hated the thought of him living out his days alone in that fine, big house that fairly begged for a large family to fill its many rooms. And she couldn’t think of a better wife for him than her dear friend Julia.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Peter watching her. Don’t meddle, his gaze warned. She gave her head a subtle shake before turning and walking into the kitchen.
She checked the ham in the oven. Honey-baked to perfection, if she did say so herself. Along with the ham, she’d be serving potatoes, carrots with onions, rolls with butter and jam, and for dessert, two kinds of pie. People said she made the best pies in the county. And who was she to argue with popular opinion?
Oh, mercy. Pride went before a fall. She’d best remember that.
It was obvious to Hugh — judging by the Collins house — that its owners hadn’t planned on a family of ten children. Additional rooms had been added onto the original structure as they’d become necessary, giving the house a sprawling, hodgepodge appearance. The outbuildings, on the other hand, were laid out in an orderly fashion, and from the look of them, all had recently received a fresh coat of paint.
As Hugh and Julia approached, a woman stepped onto the front porch, a baby in arms and a toddler clinging to her skirt. She smiled and waved with her free hand. This, he knew, must be Rose Collins.
Julia stopped her horse and slipped to the ground. Dropping the reins, she climbed the porch steps and hugged her friend’s neck. But the moment Julia released Rose, she took the baby into her arms.
“You must be Mr. Brennan,” Rose said, looking his way.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tugged the brim of his hat before dismounting. “Thanks for having me.”
“Glad to have you. You can turn your horses loose in there.” She pointed toward a corral. “Come on inside when you’re done.”
As he reached for Teddy’s reins, Hugh glanced once again at Julia, and the expression on her face as she beheld the baby in her arms stole his breath. The longing he saw there force
d him to turn away, overcome by the ache it caused in his heart. Julia was almost as careful about not revealing her inner thoughts as he was his own, and he knew she wouldn’t like that he’d seen how much she yearned for a baby.
It didn’t take long to remove the saddles and bridles from the horses and turn them loose in the small enclosure. By the time he walked toward the house, the women and little ones had gone inside. Hugh climbed the steps and stopped in the open doorway.
Peter Collins might not have planned enough bedrooms when he first built this house, but he’d given his wife a spacious kitchen. A good thing since much of it was taken up by a long table. Benches lined the long sides. A chair sat at each end.
At this moment, the room buzzed with activity. Several of the elder daughters were setting the table with plates and utensils and drinking glasses. The tallest — and presumably oldest — stirred something in a pot on the stove. The toddler he’d seen earlier on the porch now sat in a corner with some blocks of wood, overseen by a sister of nine or ten years.
“Mr. Brennan,” Peter called to him from the parlor to his right. “Come and join us.”
Hugh turned in that direction. Julia was seated in a rocking chair, the infant still in her arms. Peter and Rose Collins stood nearby. And the man on the sofa had to be the visiting brother.
Peter shook Hugh’s hand, then drew him across the parlor. “Mr. Brennan, this is my wife’s brother, Roland March. He’s an attorney in Portland, Oregon. Roland, Hugh Brennan. He works on Julia’s ranch.”
After shaking Roland’s hand, Hugh moved to stand near the window, but his gaze was drawn once more to Julia and the baby. It was a sight that made him want to rejoice and weep at the same time. The depth of feelings made him uneasy. They would make Julia uneasy too.
Clearing his throat, he turned toward the window. “You’ve got a nice spread, Collins. What sort of crops do you grow?”
“Mostly corn, barley, and hay. You interested in farming? I’ll be glad to show you around the place.”
“Thanks. I’d like to see it.” Anything to take him away from Julia long enough for sanity to return.
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