by Amy Sandas
Luke was back in his office as usual, and Johnny and George had started up a game of cards. They had offered her a seat if she’d wanted to join them, but she’d declined. Instead, she’d sat with another of Johnny’s dime novels for a bit, but the words couldn’t hold her attention.
Something in her wanted to move. There was a jittery energy in her limbs, a dissatisfaction in the confining walls of the room as she started to wander about the space.
Stopping at a window, she looked outside and noticed that the sun was making its descent toward the mountaintops. Another hour or so, and it would be dark.
Something about the shifting shades of day transforming into night called to her.
She passed by the table where Johnny and George were arguing over a detail in Johnny’s card play on her way to the front door. “I’m just going to go for a little walk before retiring for the night.”
“Okay, sure,” Johnny replied with a distracted wave before directing his next words back at George. “How the hell can you call that play a cheat? It’s well within the rules of the game.”
“Your rules,” George countered as Eve stepped out on the porch and took a deep breath of the fresh evening air.
The sky was just starting to reveal the muted shades of dusk. Bright blue slid into gold and pink as the sun’s rays stretched across the tops of the mountains, casting an almost magical glow on the highest peaks.
It was stunning.
Soon the blue would fade to lavender, and after that, the stars would start to appear.
Luke had advised that the valley was safe enough as long as she didn’t venture into the forest, so she directed her steps through the tall grass where wildflowers were blooming in various colors.
As she walked, she did a quick count of the days and realized it was well into June. It had been more than a month since she’d left Boston. Surely by now someone beyond her husband had noticed her prolonged absence from society!
What story had Matthew told about her whereabouts?
Was her mother worried?
She hoped not, but eventually Matthew would have to give a more permanent explanation for Eve’s disappearance. It broke her heart to think that her mother and her dear friends would never know the truth of what had happened to her.
The last few days that she’d spent in the valley had lulled her into an uncertain sense of security. Late at night, as she fell asleep in her narrow little bedroom, she often wondered what it might be like if she just stayed there indefinitely.
Would it be so bad?
On the day she’d decided to leave Boston, she’d declared that never again would anyone else have power over her life. It was important to her that she learn how to feel strong and capable of taking care of herself. She wanted to feel free to make her own decisions, direct her own fate.
When she was kidnapped from the train, she had despaired that once again she’d fallen under someone else’s control. But perhaps fate had simply been redirecting her path.
Coming to this valley had not exactly been her choice. But it had been her decision to stay.
Surrounded by the imposing mountainous terrain and men with guns, she felt safer than she had in a long while. But was she choosing to stay out of fear of what she’d encounter beyond the valley?
Had she truly taken her life back if she continued to hide?
Her train of thought troubled her, and she couldn’t help but wish she could discuss her concerns with Gabriel.
As his name filtered through her mind, she happened to glance up and suddenly realized she had been following the river upstream and was nearly to the bend that flowed past his meadow. Her steps faltered with a jolt of anticipation before she recalled that he wasn’t there.
Still…thinking of him gave rise to another track of emotional pondering.
She had missed him over the last few days. The loss of his steady presence had been like a constant hum of discontent originating in the deepest, quietest part of her.
Coming around the trees, she gazed out over the meadow beyond and drew a long breath. She soaked in the quiet beauty of his home nestled in the approaching shadows of dusk. It was so peaceful and simple and perfect.
So perfect that she almost failed to notice the front door was open and a thin thread of smoke drifted gently from the chimney.
Her heart stuttered as she felt compelled to continue along the riverbank. Several steps later, she caught sight of Gabriel’s large mustang grazing behind the cabin.
He had returned.
Eve came to a stop at the edge of the river where the stepping-stones could take her across to Gabriel’s meadow. She stood there in a sort of breathless reverie. The urge to go to him—to look into his eyes and hear his voice—ran deep in her blood, but she resisted.
Gabriel’s privacy and solitude were sacred to him. She would not intrude upon that.
If he had wanted to see her, he would have come to the bunkhouse.
As she stood there—surrounded by the call of night birds and the scent of wildflowers swirling on a breeze that lifted the long strands of her hair and sighed through the tall grass—Gabriel stepped through the doorway.
His hair was free down his back, his feet were bare, and he wore a buckskin tunic over his denims. His gaze found her immediately.
The connection she’d been pondering flared to full life.
Eve’s heart leapt to a furious pace. It was as though with his return, he brought life and warmth and hope back into her existence. That and something else, she realized, as heat and heaviness spiraled outward from her core in a delicious dance of physical yearning.
He walked slowly down the slight slope to the bank of the river, his movements graceful and strong. Then he lifted his hand toward her. “Come.”
He’d spoken the single word to her many times, in command or instruction. But something in the way he said it this time felt different. Richer, more intimate, and slightly uncertain.
As though he’d been waiting for her.
Twenty-Six
The earth seemed to hold its breath as Gabriel waited for Eve to cross the stepping-stones. The sight of her—so serene and fierce at the same time, with her long, pale hair flowing unconstrained down her back—made the flow of his blood feel thick and heavy.
He almost crossed the river himself to fetch her but did not. She needed to come to him freely.
And seeing her leap over the winding waterway with her skirts lifted in one hand was beautiful to behold. As was the sparkle in her eyes when she reached his grassy shore and slid her fingers into his.
As their palms met, she exhaled in a long sigh. The soft sound soaked through his skin to twist through his insides. He felt the rightness of linking hands with this woman. An aspect of his nature understood and accepted that they were already joined. But the part of him that knew something of the world she came from understood that life was not so simple.
Gabriel searched her face. At least now, in this moment, she showed no fear. Only the unique sort of quiet strength he had become familiar with in the set of her smooth jaw and the directness of her gaze. Something compelled him to close the distance that remained between them. He almost did it—his body swaying toward her—but he stopped himself, remembering the way she had reacted to his touch.
But she had seen his intention. For a second, her lips parted as though in anticipation and her gaze flickered to his lips. “I didn’t know you were back,” she murmured.
Gabriel lifted a brow, and her cheeks flushed a soft and pretty pink as she glanced toward his cabin. “I felt like a walk this evening, and…my feet just brought me here,” she answered as though she’d heard the question in his mind.
“I’m glad they did,” he replied. Lowering his chin, he asked, “Would you come inside?”
Light flickered in her gaze, and Gabriel’s chest tightened t
o a point of near pain. But the feeling was good. It felt right.
“I’d love to.”
They turned to walk up the slope to his home, their hands sliding apart as they kept pace beside each other, until Gabriel paused to allow Eve to walk ahead of him through the open doorway.
Just as the last time she’d been there, it felt as though the dim, quiet place breathed with new life in response to her presence. Where there were usually shadows, he now saw glimpses of sunlight.
She took only a few steps before turning to face him, a question in her eyes.
Gabriel gestured to the fur-covered dais he used as a bed with a lift of his chin. “Please. Sit.”
As she did so, he crouched before the fire. The flames had been reduced to a bed of hot, glowing coals below the grouse roasting on the spit. The coffee he’d set to heat was steaming, and he poured her a cup.
After getting some coffee for himself, he sat on his rug-covered floor with his legs crossed and rested his back against the stone hearth. He openly soaked in the sight of Eve as she sat straight and proper across from him.
Staying away from the valley the last several days had been pointless.
The feelings rushing through him remained as strong as ever. The thoughts in his head were no less focused.
He still wanted her.
Her eyes met his over the rim of her mug, and his belly clenched with the need inside him. It took a great deal of willpower to contain his hunger for her. If she caught even a glimpse of what he was feeling…
“Where did you go?” she asked into the lengthening silence.
A safe topic. “Hunting.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes. “I did not see any kills. Were you successful?”
Gabriel nodded. “There are people in these mountains who sometimes welcome the extra meat.”
“You gave it away?” she asked, her eyes wide.
He nodded again. The bunkhouse had plenty to feed the gang for the summer. Come fall, Gabriel would hunt again to restock their stores for the winter.
“You’ve been well?” he asked.
She lifted her shoulders in a subtle shrug. “I’ve settled in, I suppose.”
He could see what she didn’t say. “You are not happy here,” he murmured.
“I don’t know.” Even in the dim light of the cabin he could see the uncertainty and indecision in her eyes. “When I’d decided to”—she hesitated—“come west, I’d planned to establish a new life in the anonymity of a big city. To be honest, I feel rather adrift here in the valley.”
“You wish to put down roots.”
She met his gaze, and he thought he saw something there, something soft and quiet—vulnerable yet strong and determined. “Yes. I suppose I do.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I worry that in staying here, I am being guided by my fear.”
Gabriel understood. He had faced something similar, many years ago.
He had never told anyone the full story of his path to manhood. Those years had been a struggle to find his true direction, to fulfill a purpose he could not identify. Inner peace remained out of reach until he finally accepted a simple unavoidable truth.
Taking a long and steady breath, he set his mug aside and looked into the flickering glow of red coals. Most times, the past was like a distant dream, but as he focused on the memories, they became fresh and real again.
“My father was killed in one of the many battles between our people and the rush of settlers who came to stake claim on our land when I was still an infant,” he began. “My mother died only a few years later. But my sister and I were never orphans among our people. All are family.” Those earliest memories of his life on this earth filtered through his mind, carrying with them gratitude and a thin layer of grief.
Eve did not speak. As the silence lengthened, she eased from the short dais to sit on the floor as he did, folding her legs beneath her skirt and setting aside her mug to link her hands in her lap.
Gabriel looked at her hands, wishing he could hold them in his as he continued his story.
“One day,” he started again, “I followed a hunting party away from camp. I was too young to join them, but I was eager to learn.” He clenched his teeth and forced his next words to come swiftly. “The hunting party was attacked by a small band of General Custer’s men. By the time I reached the battle, the hunting party had all been killed. I was taken and later handed over to a missionary couple to raise. They tried to mold me into something I refused to be. I thought myself a man when I finally reclaimed my freedom and struck out on my own, but at thirteen, I was still just a boy. The tribe had been forced to move several times during my long absence. It took more than two years to find them again.”
* * *
Eve studied the hard angles of his face, feeling a squeezing pain through her center at the sorrow and anger he fought to keep from his voice.
“My sister is older by a few years,” he continued after a moment. “By the time I’d returned, she held the honored position of wife to the chief’s son. She welcomed my return, but her husband was wary. He worried that I had spent too much time among the enemy. Some people in the tribe agreed with his concerns. The elders decided I could stay and prove myself.” His breath lengthened and his voice lowered, originating from a place deep in his chest as he said, “I soon realized my spirit was as divided as my tribe. I thought my return would feel like coming home. I thought I would have a family again. But I was different. I could not stay.”
“I’m sorry,” Eve whispered past the ache in her heart, yet the words felt ridiculously inadequate. He had lived through so much loss.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers. In the silence that followed, she felt as though he reached out to her—not in any physical way, but with that intangible force that had seemed to exist between them from that first time their eyes had met. Even from across the fire, she felt his indelible strength and the balanced calm he seemed to so naturally possess.
It amazed her. And it inspired her.
“Do you still wish you could go back?” she asked to keep herself from thinking things she shouldn’t.
“No.” His ready answer was unexpected. “For a time, I wondered what life would be like if I’d never been separated from my people. But that is not what was intended for me. I’ve accepted that my path has led in another direction.”
And she could see that he did. Yes, there was loss in him, but no regret filtered through his words.
“It is painful to yearn for something that cannot be,” he added in a lowered voice.
Though his words followed their conversation, she suspected they referenced something else. The yearning he spoke of was evident in his eyes. “Yes,” she replied softly. “It is.”
There was a brief moment of silence, then Gabriel gave a slow nod. “You too find yourself on a path you hadn’t expected to travel.”
“How do I know where to go from here?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged, but it was not a dismissive gesture. “When it is time, you will know,” he said simply, and then he leaned forward to turn the spit. “Are you hungry?”
“I am,” Eve answered.
He made a sound of acknowledgment and rose to his feet to fetch some metal dishes from a small trunk set to one side.
They both sat on the floor in front of the fire as they ate. It reminded Eve of those first days after the train. Her feelings toward the man across from her were no less intense and intimidating, but it was in an entirely different way.
When they finished, Gabriel stood again and collected their dishes. “I’ll go wash these in the river,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
Eve nodded.
She sat in the silence of the cabin for a while after he left, breathing in the peace and comfort of the place. It was so like him. His home. His sanctuary.
When he returne
d, his expression was stern. “Night has fallen. I should take you back.”
His words caused an instant tightening in her chest and a rebellious twist in her belly, but she rose to her feet. As he placed the dishes back in the trunk, she didn’t move, and when he turned back to face her, she knew she wouldn’t.
The fire had burned down to coals, casting an uncertain light that flickered in a familiar pattern across his features. She didn’t want to leave him. Didn’t want to return to her narrow little room in the bunkhouse. Alone and lonely.
“Can I stay?” The question was uncertain, leaving her lips before she could consider what it implied.
His dark eyes searched hers. She waited with her breath held. Her insides trembling with anticipation and embarrassment that he might have heard the depth of longing hidden in her voice.
Then he made a quiet sound in his throat, a rich rumble of acceptance, and he crouched beside the fire. Using a stick, he stirred the coals back to life, then added more wood from a stack in the corner. Flames leapt, casting long shadows on the walls as heat billowed outward, bathing Eve in warmth and a sense of belonging.
It didn’t seem odd that she would feel so comfortable in this simple dwelling, but she wondered if it was the place or the man himself that triggered such rightness of being inside her.
“You can rest here,” he said, gesturing to the bed behind him.
Eve turned and settled amongst the soft pelts as Gabriel went about setting a few things in order around the cabin. Eve couldn’t tell if they were truly things that needed to be done, or if he was trying to distract himself.
When he finally seemed satisfied with his tasks, he made as if to settle on the floor before the fire.
“Gabriel?”
He straightened again but did not look at her. The tension in his body was evident in his wide shoulders.
Eve felt the moment like a promise tethered in the dark, crouched in anticipation.