by Linda Ford
He forced himself not to look away, even though he sensed she saw something about him that puzzled her. He resisted a derisive snort. No doubt there was much that did that.
“I keep thinking of how you blame yourself for not doing anything to help your mother and brother.”
His insides soured. The pleasant feeling torn aside by her reminder.
She squeezed his hand. “Have you thought any more about what I said? That your mother would have been happy that you weren’t trapped as well?”
Her touch seared a path straight to his heart. It was all he could do not to turn his palm to hers and hang on like a drowning man. Her words touched him, too.
“My ma loved me. She loved both her boys. I never doubted it. But why should I live while she and Johnny died? He was only five.” Sixteen years since that dreadful fire and he’d never spoken of it to anyone. He’d tried to talk to his pa soon after the fire but Pa got so agitated that he stopped mentioning it. Once or twice, he’d approached the topic with people they stayed with. Had been told to forget the past. And he’d determined to do so.
Until now. He wished he’d never mentioned it to Carly. Seems she wasn’t going to let it go until she thought he had overcome his feelings.
He slowed his breathing, fearing his feelings would erupt like a boiling pot. Out of control. Hurting everything in the way.
But instead, he discovered the sharp, ragged edges of that memory had grown smooth. Perhaps time had done that and he had been unware. Or maybe Carly’s understanding and her words and touch had provided healing.
Somehow his hand had turned and he gripped her fingers. He forced his muscles to relax. As afraid of the feelings that blossomed inside him as he was of hurting her with his strength.
She withdrew her hand. A tender smile curved her mouth. “Shall we go see where the cows are?”
He nodded, his insides too tangled to allow him to speak.
She helped Jill mount again and they continued riding north. She seemed to know where the cows were and led them to a wide, green basin where they grazed placidly. Several spooked at the sight of three humans on horseback but for the most part, they ignored the intrusion.
Mr. Morrison had informed Sawyer that he would make Sawyer a partner in the business. Sawyer said it wasn’t necessary. His needs were few. A token wage would suffice. But the older man said he thought it was necessary. “You and Carly—equal partners.”
Sawyer wondered if Mr. Morrison had told Carly this news. Sawyer had no intention of being the one to inform her. But he studied the stock with a sense of pride. A mixed herd, mostly Texas longhorns, but according to Mr. Morrison, the man was trying to introduce some heavier English stock. Sawyer could see sign of his program in the new calves, the evidence of the bull Mr. Morrison had purchased.
“They’ll stay here for a few weeks,” Carly said. “Who’s hungry?” She swung to the ground and pulled a sack from her saddlebags.
Jill didn’t wait for help but climbed down on her own.
Sawyer hesitated. For a man who had learned not to feel anything, this rough ride of emotions left him anxious, afraid of where it would lead. But at the sight of Carly’s tender biscuits, he pushed all that aside and joined the other two.
They sat on the verge of the hill, side by side. He was close enough to Carly for her arm to brush his as she moved. He could have shifted away but didn’t. He kind of liked having her at his side, being able to feel her every breath and breathe in the scent of hay, baking and wildflowers.
They had three biscuits each. He passed around his canteen that he had filled with water before they left. When he thought he’d be riding alone. How had he gone from a loner to sharing the day with a girl and a woman?
“You’re smiling again,” Carly said.
“I didn’t realize.” He failed to make it end.
“Don’t mind if you keep doing it.” More pink in her cheeks and she lowered her eyes as if embarrassed.
Jill jumped up. “A baby rabbit.” She dashed after it. It darted from side to side so when she thought she had it, she missed it. She started to giggle.
Carly laughed.
Sawyer’s smile deepened, tickled something inside him and he chuckled.
Carly looked his direction. Laughter filled her eyes. Their gazes held, filled with amusement and something more. On his part, an awareness of something sweet and fragile hovering between them.
Is this what marriage did to him? He wasn’t sure if he liked it. Wasn’t certain he didn’t, either. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to see what the next few days held for him. For Jill. For all of them. A shiver crawled across his neck. The last time he had felt even remotely this content about his life had been before the fire.
Chapter Nine
As they rode toward home, Carly tried to sort out her feelings. Why had she been so embarrassed to see him smiling and laughing? So aware of the fact he was her husband? She’d almost blurted out how handsome he was. Today he’d donned a clean shirt, the dark green bringing out the color of his eyes. He’d shaved this morning, allowing her to see his strong jaw. But when he smiled, oh my, his eyes flashed the color of early morning sky with the remembrance of lingering stars.
“If I caught him, I would keep him as a pet,” Jill said, referring to the rabbit.
“Good thing you didn’t catch him,” Carly said. “Wild animals don’t make good pets.”
Jill shot her a cross look. “You just don’t want me to have it.”
“That’s not true.” Carly rode a little ahead so she wouldn’t have to see Jill’s expression.
Sawyer pulled up beside her. “She wasn’t always like that.”
Carly nodded. “She’s been told some cruel things.” She relayed what Jill had said the night before.
Sawyer’s jaw muscles bunched. He might think he had no feelings but when it came to his little sister, he felt plenty.
She wanted to encourage him so she told him of the Bible verse she’d read to Jill. “I’m convinced she will be okay. She’s had to face a lot for one so young but I’ve seen glimpses of a happier child. She’ll find her way back to that.” She paused to think how else to reassure him. “Everyone has to deal with loss in their own way.” She felt Sawyer watching her but didn’t look at him. For some reason, although she’d started it, she didn’t want to continue this discussion.
“Do you handle yours by trying to be the son your father never had?”
She pulled Sunny to a halt and came round to stare at the man. “How can you say such a thing? You’ve known me a day and you jump to this conclusion? Based on what? Your keen observation? Your awareness of how people feel?” She shook her head. “Are you insane?”
Jill gave them both a piercing look and rode on by them. Wise girl, wanting nothing to do with an argument between them.
She guessed Sawyer did his best to hide his reaction, pulling his face into the mask he normally wore. Disappointment at losing sight of his smile colored her thoughts but not enough to quench her anger.
“Forget I said it.” His voice was so flat a marble wouldn’t have moved off center.
“How can I forget when I know that’s what you think? What have I done to give you that impression?”
“Nothing. Leave it be.” He rode after Jill.
Carly went after him. “I deserve an explanation.”
He pulled to a halt. “I suppose you do. Very well. I heard you mention several times that you had lost brothers. And when your father insists on a man on the place and you marry a stranger, all the while telling him you are in charge…well, I guess I jumped to conclusions.”
“I guess you did, all right. Best you disabuse yourself of that notion here and now.” At least he hadn’t mentioned her little slip of tongue while they sat at Annie’s table.
“I’ll do that.”
They faced each other. Her insides curled with disappointment that the pleasant morning had turned bitter. Daisy snorted. Jill screamed. A tremor of fear ran down Car
ly’s spine. Daisy was the most placid of animals unless…
She reined about to see Daisy rear and then gallop away in panic.
Carly forgot everything else and kicked Sunny into his top speed. “Hang on,” she yelled to Jill, not knowing if her words carried that far. “Grab her mane. Grab the saddle horn.” Grab anything to keep from falling off.
Sunny’s hooves thundered. The wind tugged Carly’s hat off and it strained at its strings. She leaned over her horse’s neck as Sunny stretched out. It took only a few minutes to catch up to Jill…minutes that seemed an eternity. She guided Sunny close and reached out to grab Daisy’s reins. “Whoa. Whoa, Daisy. You’re okay.”
The horse slowed and came to a panting halt.
Sawyer rode up on Jill’s other side and snatched the girl from the saddle and held her against his chest. “I thought this was a gentle, old horse.”
“Only one thing will make her do this. A snake. Jill, did you see a snake?”
Jill nodded, her eyes wide.
“Are you okay?”
Jill stared at her without giving any indication one way or the other.
Carly dismounted and went to Daisy. She rubbed her neck and soothed her. “You’re okay, old girl. That mean old snake didn’t stand a chance against you, did it?” She spent a few minutes calming the horse, then led her close to Sawyer. “It’s okay now, Jill. She’ll be fine. You can ride her home.”
Sawyer’s jaw clenched. “She can ride home with me.”
When he would have ridden away, Carly blocked the horse. “That’s not a good idea. A person should always get back on after a scare. It’s the only way to overcome fear.” She met his stubborn look with one equally stubborn.
Jill shoved from Sawyer’s grasp. “I’m not afraid.” When Carly would have assisted her to mount, she pushed her away. “I don’t need help.” She managed to climb into the saddle and gave both Carly and Sawyer a look of pure defiance as if to say she took pride in proving them wrong.
For her part, Carly was pleased to see her reaction. “Good for you. You’re a little trooper.”
A flash of acknowledgment sparked in Jill’s eyes before she could think to hide it.
Smiling, Carly remounted and they resumed their journey with Sawyer staying close to Jill.
Carly spotted a patch of palest purple. “Crocuses. I’m going to pick some.” She rode that direction and hurried to gather up a handful. She’d put them on her mother’s grave when they got back. “Mother loved crocuses. She said they were so brave, pushing up through the snow, enduring the cold. She said we should strive to be like the flower, willing to overcome challenges and adversity.” Remembering her mother’s words renewed Carly’s inner strength. She had willingly, knowingly entered into this marriage. Disagreements or difficulties would not deter her from the path she had chosen. She would make the arrangement work.
Feeling as if life would be all she wanted, she remounted and they continued homeward.
They reached the barn and led the horses inside. Jill dropped the reins and headed for the house.
Carly stopped her. “Father says the animals must be cared for first. You need to take off the saddle, brush Daisy down and make sure she has feed and water.”
Jill crossed her arms and gave Carly a mutinous look. “I’m too tired.”
“As long as you’re able to walk, you aren’t too tired.” Father had drilled that into Carly. The animal has carried you without complaint. The least you can do is treat him kindly.
“I’ll do it this time,” Sawyer said.
Carly sensed the weariness in his voice as if arguing with this child took too much effort. Or perhaps he was tired of arguing with Carly. It didn’t matter. “We can both help her, but she’s old enough to be responsible for the animal she rides.”
Neither of them spoke. Jill scowled at Carly. Carly didn’t look at Sawyer. She didn’t want to see his disapproval of how she dealt with Jill but Carly knew she must establish her role as an adult in charge or things could get difficult in the ensuing weeks.
“Oh, whatever you say.” Jill flounced past Carly to take up Daisy’s reins.
Carly was glad to see she didn’t jerk the horse’s head around.
She followed, instructing Jill on loosening the cinch. Carly lifted the saddle. “Always put it on the saddle rack so it stays in shape.” Step by step, she talked Jill through the process. “You did a good job.” She left the girl brushing Daisy to tend to her own horse.
Sawyer watched her. Did he disapprove of how she’d handled the situation or did he see the wisdom of what she’d done? She couldn’t tell and wasn’t about to ask because she didn’t care to hear criticism of her actions.
But she decided one thing. Instead of taking the crocuses to the graveyard as she had intended, she’d put them in a bowl of water to place on the headstone later. She’d make supper right away. Poor Jill was probably hungry as well as tired.
Done taking care of their horses, the three of them went to the house. Grandfather Marshall was gone, Father sat in his big armchair, a stack of newspapers on the table beside him. He came to his feet, struggling with his crutch as they entered. “How did you find things?” He looked at Sawyer.
Carly pushed aside the bit of resentment that Father should seek the answer from Sawyer. And she didn’t give the man a chance to answer. “The cows are in the hollow to the north. About thirty calves on the ground. Grass is looking good. Cows are looking good.”
“Fine. Fine.”
“What’s new with the Marshalls?” Not that she expected there was anything. They’d seen them all just last night.
“No news. Just two lonely old men keeping each other company.”
Deciding to ignore his sorrowful tone, she went to the stove. “I’ll get supper on right away.” She’d left meat stewing on the back of the stove. There were cooked potatoes to warm up.
As she prepared the food, Sawyer, without being asked, filled the wood box, brought in more water and carried out the ashes.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Least I could do.”
Hearing the strain in his voice, she faced him. “I was only doing what I thought best.”
They studied each other. She wished she could erase the differences between them and have nothing but the pleasant hours they’d spent earlier in the day.
After a moment, he nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I have no experience in this.” He circled his hand.
She didn’t know if he meant raising a child, being married or sharing duties on a ranch. She grinned. Likely all three. “It’s all new to me, too, you know. We’ll have to learn together.”
His eyes changed first, growing less dark. And then the skin around them lifted. Then his mouth curved into a smile. And the weight of a thousand regrets slipped from her shoulders.
A few minutes later, she served the meal. At first, Jill ate slowly but as the food warmed her stomach, she perked up. “I almost got throwed,” she told Father. “Daisy ran away.”
“Daisy, you say. Nothing fazes her.” Understanding came. “Except a snake.”
“You should have seen her. She stood on her back legs like this.” Jill illustrated. “Then she ran so fast I didn’t think anyone could catch her.”
“And Jill hung on and didn’t panic.” Carly smiled her approval. Jill ignored Carly and beamed at Father.
“Aye, child. You did good.”
Jill practically glowed from the praise.
Carly looked at Sawyer. He met her look and raised his brows, nodding so slightly no one would notice if they hadn’t been watching carefully. Carly understood he, too, saw Jill’s reaction to Father. Carly felt that they shared something private and special in that moment, though the feeling fled as quickly as it had come.
There were no sweets in the house for dessert. Even the last of the fruit she’d canned last fall was gone. She promised herself she’d find time in the next day or two to make something special. After all, she had her reputa
tion as a good cook to uphold.
Sawyer insisted he and Jill would help do dishes. Father said he’d like to help, too, but it was difficult with his bum leg.
“I’ll bring you dishes to dry,” Jill offered, seeming to think she did Father a favor.
Carly kept her back to the table so her father wouldn’t see her amusement. He was firm about men’s and women’s roles. Women ran the house. Men did the real work. Her hands grew still and she stared out the window over the cupboard. Why did she fight him on this?
Sawyer seemed to think it was because she tried to be the son Father never had.
But that wasn’t it. She simply did what she enjoyed. And what needed to be done. Good thing she had taken over the ranch work or where would they be with Father now crippled up?
She ignored the answer that blared through her head. There was Sawyer, ready and able to do the work. If Sawyer hadn’t been in the diner, looking for someone to care for Jill, there was the threat of selling the ranch.
At least her marriage had stopped that plan.
She finished the dishes, picked up the bowl of crocuses and left the house without a backward look.
Up on the hill, she stepped through the gate and carefully closed it behind her. She stopped momentarily before each of the tiny graves. Father had carved the names on the simple wooden crosses. Callum was the name on the oldest cross. Errol on the next one. After that, they hadn’t named the babies. Simply put Baby Boy Morrison on two crosses.
She knelt at her mother’s grave. Father had ordered a real headstone with an angel carved into it. Carly set the bowl of crocuses in front of the headstone and sat back on her heels.
“Mother,” she whispered. “I need you.” Why had God left her without a mother? Her heart went out to young Jill. Carly had agreed to provide a home for the pair but a home needed family. Sawyer and Jill needed family. She and Father provided that but they needed even more. “There’s a little girl here who needs a mother.” There was no mother. There was only Carly.
She sat upright on her knees and stared at the angel on the headstone. There was only Carly. Could she be a mother to Jill even though the child made it clear she didn’t want it? “Mother, I wish you were here. You’re not. That means things have to be different.” She sat quietly, listening to her thoughts. Something Mother often said surfaced. “Things are not always what we want. Disappointments leave us staggering but in all things we can trust God to guide us through. Never forget what He says in His word. ‘Thou art my hiding place. Thou shalt preserve me from trouble. Thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go. I will guide thee with Mine eye.’”