The beautiful killer whickered at Abby as if he was being slighted and moved in his pen to the closest point to her.
The mare came to her. Abby slipped on the bridle she’d rigged to have no bit. Leading the pinto out of the corral, she mounted up bareback with one supple leap while Wade was still leading his horse to the barn for a saddle.
Abby’s skirts flew about, her ankles clearly visible. She batted at the fabric impatiently. “Stupid gingham dress.”
Tom’s stallion was busy trying to commit murder, though his heart wasn’t really in it or Tom never would have gotten leather on the brute. The stallion reared toward the sky then landed stiff-legged and crow-hopped sideways. Tom hung on expertly. “Abby, you need to put a saddle on that horse.”
When Wade and Abby had ridden to town to check the cattle Red had brought in, Wade had taken this same position.
Wade had lost.
Now it gave him pleasure to stand back and watch Tom lose.
Abby made an incredibly rude noise for such a pretty woman and started for town without a backward glance.
Wade, thinking of the dry-gulchers gunning for her, raced through his preparations and was on the trail while Tom was still letting the black work its kinks out by jumping and rearing.
Wade caught up to Abby quickly, and soon Tom came along. Wade had hoped to visit with Abby on their rides to and from church. Maybe risk asking her if she might one day have feelings for him, but with Tom along that was impossible. They set a swift pace and made it to town in record time.
The church in Divide was so new it still smelled of wood shavings, but it was painted bright white, as clean as a new penny. Wade had noticed it in passing when they’d come in for the cattle, but now he could really appreciate the tight little building the town had erected.
They tied their horses to the hitching post alongside a dozen other horses and scattered buggies and buckboards. Inside were tidy rows of oak pews. The church was packed, and Wade, Tom, and Abby stood, leaning against the back wall with several other worshippers.
Church was its usual informal affair. The service was different when the circuit rider was in town. Parson Bergstrom ran a very proper, orderly service, and Wade enjoyed that well enough. But he much preferred it when Red was in charge. Red was far more casual. He had told Wade that he was working on getting himself named a real legal minister so he could perform weddings. Wade doubted Red’s style would change much, though, if he got papers calling him a real live parson.
Today he talked on one of Wade’s favorite verses. It was from the first chapter of John.
“‘In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.’ ”
It reminded Wade so much of the dark world he’d lived in before he found his faith. Wade found light once he understood about Jesus dying for him. But Pa still lived in that dark place. And just as the verse said, he couldn’t comprehend the Light. It grieved Wade to think how lost Pa was, but Wade also battled an angry, sinful part of himself. He bitterly resented the abuse he’d taken from his father’s hands. It was a battle to pray for his father. A cruel voice inside of Wade said Pa deserved a terrible afterlife for the way he’d lived this one. Most of Wade’s petitions for God to open his father’s heart ended with Wade begging God’s forgiveness for himself, not his pa.
When the service was over, Wade, Abby, and Tom stayed to visit. Abby took a turn holding Michael, but all the women wanted to hold the baby. A fair number of the men wanted turns, too.
Wade loved Cassie and Red’s children, although he’d been gone for most of little Michael’s life. He knew Susannah well from all his time spent at the Dawson place, so she giggled and demanded a hug as if he was a beloved uncle.
Wade hoped Tom had really listened to what Red had to say. The ruffian had seemed to be listening attentively to Red’s talk and asked some good questions. Even feeling like Tom was a leech who was determined never to let Wade and Abby be alone, Wade prayed silently for Tom to hear this truth.
Standing outside the church, Wade saw a rider galloping into town on a horse wearing Tom’s brand. The rider pulled his racing mount to a halt when he spotted Tom. “I thought I’d have to ride all the way to the Sawyer place. We’ve got trouble out at the Double L. Big Black ran afoul of a grizzly.”
Wade recognized the name of the prizewinning Angus bull Tom had brought out from Kansas City at great expense. It was the first pure black breed anyone in these parts had ever seen.
Angus cattle had only just been imported into America. They were reputed to be as hardy as a longhorn but faster growing with tender meat where a longhorn tended toward gristle. Wade was skeptical. He figured some snake oil salesman had gotten the best of Tom. But Tom had a good head for ranching, and he loved to talk cattle more than any man Wade had ever known, so he might have heard of the breed somewhere, even before he came West. Wade had seen the bull a year ago, and there was no denying he was a beauty.
“Is he dead?” Tom slapped his Stetson on his head and started for the hitching post in front of the closed general store, where his black stallion stood tied. Tom had left the temperamental horse well away from the other horses.
“The grizz had him down and tore him up, but he’s got a chance. You’re the best hand with hurt animals, Tom. You’ve gotta come and come fast.”
Tom jerked his chin in agreement and started to mount up. Then he halted and looked back at Abby. “Sorry, Ab. I’ll be coming around again as soon as I can.” Tom gave Wade one hard glare that promised swift, brutal retribution if any harm came to his sister.
Abby watched as Tom galloped out of town behind his cowhand, but she didn’t look particularly sad to see him go.
Wade was outright thrilled.
The fellowship outside the church broke up with a lot of conversation about that magnificent blue-black Angus bull. Red even led them in a prayer for the big animal.
Wade and Abby rode out of town with Wade on top of the world. “Let’s not go directly home, Abby. I want to spend some time away from Pa and his bad temper.”
Abby gave a harsh half-laugh. “I feel no excitement to return to your father’s side.”
“There’s a house I want you to see out here. You think my pa’s place is foolish—this is even worse. But it is beautiful.”
“More beautiful than the trees they cut down to build it?”
Wade laughed. “Maybe not. And definitely not now that it’s abandoned. We use it as a line shack. I think it will be safe. No one can waylay us because they can’t know we’d ride that direction.”
When they came to the fork in the road that led toward the old Griffin place, Wade guided his horse down the faint trail. “So are you happy to have found a brother, Abby?”
Abby looked sideways at Wade, barely touching her reins, so comfortable was she on her barebacked horse. “I remember Tom just a bit. I have felt so separated from memories of my white family here in Montana, remembering back to living in the East is even more confusing. I have this image of rushing wagons and people and noise. I need to ask Tom more about our home back there, but I can tell…he’s…angry that I can’t remember.”
“Hurt, I think, not angry. But Tom is a Western man now. He’s going to cover his hurt with gruff words.”
“My Flathead father was like that. Once, my little brother fell into the water and had to be pulled out. He wasn’t breathing, and for a few minutes we thought he was dead. Once it was over, my father was furious. But he was scared, I know. He just saw those feelings as weak, so he covered them with stronger emotions.”
“I spent a lot of my life doing that.” Wade felt the warm breeze and knew that summer had come to Montana. It came late up this high and left early, but for now it was here and he enjoyed it. The season of growth gave Wade the nerve to say more about his life before he’d become a man of faith. “My father punished me every time I showed fear or cried. Pa saw that as weakness. So I became rude and
insulting and arrogant to cover my fear. I managed to pick a few fights with your brother along the way, too.”
Abby sat up straight. “Really? You punched Tom?”
“Well, not so much punched him. Insulted him, threatened him, but I always had M Bar S riders with me. I thought I was being brave, but I always knew they’d step in if I got into trouble I couldn’t handle.”
They rounded a curve that followed a rockslide at the base of a mountain. Wade could see the clump of pines that surrounded Cassie’s old house. Wade had come visiting many times before Cassie’s first husband had died. There was a twisting trail up into the rocks they’d just skirted. He would lie in wait. When Griff would leave, as he did nearly every Saturday to ride to Divide to waste more of Cassie’s money, Wade would go see Cassie. “This curve in the trail marks the end of your brother’s property and the beginning of the Sawyer holding.”
“My brother lives near here?” Abby looked around as if she expected to see a house.
“No, this is the far north edge of his ranch. His cabin is a couple of hours away, but he holds a lot of rangeland. The house is right behind those trees. It’s only a few yards from a spring that never dries up, which makes it as valuable as gold. Cassie Dawson lived here with her first husband. When he died, Pa and your brother had a dustup deciding who would own it, and Pa paid a big price to win.”
“Tom is so much younger than your father. I’m surprised he’d enter into a fight like that.”
“He’s one tough hombre, your brother. He’s a respected man in these parts. Age doesn’t have that much to do with earning respect.”
“And you, Wade, are you a tough hombre?”
“No.” Wade laughed to even think of such a thing. “Far from it.”
Wade’s eyes narrowed as the chimney came into view above the trees. Smoke curled up into the sky.
CHAPTER 24
Hold up, Abby.” Wade pulled his horse to a stop. “Why would we staff a line shack this time of year? The cattle are all moved close to home for the roundup.”
Abby stopped beside him. Wade saw her suspicion and her unwillingness to approach the house. He decided then and there she was about the smartest, trail-savviest little thing he’d ever seen. One tough hombre for sure. Tougher than him by a long shot.
“I know an overlook where we can study the place before we ride in.” Wade turned his horse and went easily to the barely existent trail. There’d been a time when he’d worn quite a path.
That old obsession and his weakness of character haunted him to this day. He knew he was forgiven. And that forgiveness helped him keep his heart open to his father. The man’s cruelty had driven Wade to believe Cassie needed saving from her first husband and Red. Wade could understand and explain away the shame. But there remained a ghost of wonder that a man could be so confused and steeped in sin and still find God. That wonder urged him on after his father’s soul. Pa had done nothing worse in his life than Wade. If Wade could find God and change, then so could he.
With Wade leading, they moved to a high, well-concealed spot with a clear view of the house. Abby rode up beside him, gasped, and pulled her horse to a stop.
Wade smiled as they looked at the ridiculous, crumbling monstrosity.
White clapboard, three full stories high, stained glass windows shining from gables in each side of the roof. A second-floor balcony above a whitewashed porch, both wrapping around the whole building.
Abby turned to Wade. “Who would built such a…a …”
“Castle?” Wade suggested. “Mansion?”
She looked back at the house. Wade saw a missing board on the porch and broken windows that made him think of a gap-toothed old crone. The paint was peeling and weathered.
“A real fool of a man built this house about…five years ago.” Wade swung down from his horse, ground-hitched it, and leaned on the massive stone that had a lower spot just perfect for spying.
“It’s only five years old? Why is it …” Again words seemed to fail her. She dismounted and came to his side. “Who would build such a thing then just let it die?”
“A man who had no sense. Simple as that.” Wade didn’t want to talk about Cassie’s first husband and how he’d wasted her money and left her destitute and pregnant at the mercy of the Rockies…a mountain range that had no mercy.
“It’s a shame, though.” Wade hated to see the waste, but he wasn’t going to pay the money to keep up this monument to a man’s foolish pride. “It’s a beautiful thing. The owner hired some guy to come all the way here from Denver to build it. Shipped the building material in, too.”
“Where is this foolish man?” Abby asked.
“Where most foolish men end up…especially in the West.” Wade settled his hat lower. “Dead.”
The smoke had thinned then vanished from the chimney. No movement in or outside the house was visible. Wade studied the place then asked Abby, “What do you think?”
“No horses around. No movement or noise from the house. And if the fire has burned out already, it was most likely left from the morning meal. I’d say whoever was in there is gone.”
“Can you smell them?” Wade turned and grinned at Abby.
She lowered her brows to a straight line and reminded him so much of Tom Linscott that he smiled bigger. “The only white man I smell is you.”
He smelled her, too, but she made it sound like a bad thing, whereas Wade had no objection at all. “Abby, I want to ask you something important.” He barely whispered the words, afraid he’d scare her away like a half-wild mountain creature. “We haven’t known each other long enough, but I want this thought to be in your head.”
“What is this thought?”
“Me. The thought is me. I want to be in your head and in your heart, Abby. Because you are in mine. Could you consider letting me court you? Might the day come when you could see yourself agreeing to spend your life with me?”
“Marry a white? Never!” Her words were cutting, but she didn’t back away. No, in fact, his wildflower stepped a bit closer, studying him as if there was a speck of dirt in his eye and she was considering doctoring him.
And maybe she noticed a smudge on his lips, too, because her eyes went there as well.
Wade leaned down and touched his lips to hers.
Abby jumped back, reminding Wade of a startled horse. A beautiful, golden-maned…He shook his head. The woman was nothing like a horse.
She kept her eyes locked on his, and the little jump was only her straightening away from him. In the silence, Wade saw her fascination and fear. He decided to ignore the fear and take ruthless advantage of the fascination. He captured her lips again, and this time she wrapped her arms around his neck with the strength of a warrior.
The kiss deepened as Wade’s future unfolded before him with perfect clarity. Abby, the ranch, six sons and three daughters. Maybe they’d live here. He could restore the old Griffin place. He kind of liked the idea of all the children’s names starting with the same letter. Having a name that came at the end of the alphabet, Wade was partial to A. Like Abby. Maybe Adam, Andrew, Alan—
Abby slammed the heel of her hand into Wade’s stomach.
Staggering back, Wade gasped for breath that wouldn’t come.
“What’d you do that for?”
“Keep your hands off me, white man.” She flashed that wicked blade right under his nose.
Okay, so maybe a little early to be actively naming their children. Finally, he dragged in some air on a high whistle, and his lungs decided they’d let him live. “My hands?”
By way of an answer, she waved her knife close enough to draw blood if Wade made one wrong move.
Backing off would have been the sensible thing to do. Wade never had much sense. How many times had his father told him that? “You had your arms wrapped around me like a thousand feet of vine, Ab. Don’t pretend like you didn’t like that kiss. You may hate that you liked it. You may be surprised that you liked it. You may even want to stab m
e because you liked it. But you liked it just fine.”
He actually heard the air whoosh past the blade as she swung the knife. For no reason on earth, her fierce resistance to something neither of them could deny made him smile. Raising his hands like a man surrendering, Wade backed away—not too far on the narrow, rocky slope, but enough to get her to lower the weapon. He still wasn’t perfectly safe. The sharp, angry, downward slash of her white-blond brows could have cut him.
“Okay, no kissing. You’re right anyway. You’re right for the wrong reason, but I shouldn’t have taken such liberties, especially without your permission. I apologize.” He noticed he still had his hands up like he was surrendering and lowered them, since he wasn’t giving up at all.
She sheathed her knife. When had she found time to add a hidden sheath to this dress? Did she stay up late at night planning to stab people? “Your words mean nothing when your actions presume so much. I do not want your hands on me.”
Wade suspected she did, but he didn’t mention that. “Abby?” He stood silently until she quit attending to her knife and faced him.
“What?” She nearly shouted her impatience.
It was with a bit of pain he gave up his dream of a perfect, gentle, Cassie Dawson–like wife. But his feelings were stronger than the dream. “I want your permission to court you.”
“No.” She crossed her arms that had been warm and fluid around his neck only moments ago. Now they were a flesh-and-blood fortress wall between them.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I will never tie myself to you.” Her head shook with absolute denial. “To no man.”
“What are you planning to do, then?” The woman had to use her brain if she intended to get on with her life. “Stop being angry and think for a minute. You’ve got no home with your Flathead people now. You’re the one who told me that.”
Abby lifted her chin defiantly. She’d left her hair down for church, and the sunlight of it curled and danced and swayed around her shoulders and all the way to her waist, alive and beautiful in the gentle mountain breeze. “I will strike out on my own. I will hunt for deer, skin them, and build a tepee.”
Mary Connealy Page 76