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Wyatt studied the unruly growth, and compared it to the rest of the neat garden. He understood the need for order, allowing the plants to be better tended, but something about the untamed patch pulled at his thoughts. Wild and free. He shifted back to study of the tidy garden. Order and control. He’d had enough of the latter while in prison, but the former didn’t satisfy him, either. Was it possible to have something in the middle?
Cora cleared her throat to get his attention. He must have been staring at the plants long enough to make her wonder why they interested him so much.
“Maybe it could do with just a little taming,” he said, as if that had been his only thought.
“That’s what I said to Ma.”
They proceeded down a pathway between the two gardens. Grub, seeing the direction they headed, loped ahead of them.
“Ma and Pa have planted berry bushes of all sorts—raspberries, gooseberries, currants, chokecherries—and fruit trees. We get lots of berries, but not much fruit. Seems we always get frost too soon and the winters are too severe. Pa’s been grafting fruit trees to wild trees to see if that will work.”
The idea intrigued Wyatt. Was this a way of combining wild and free with tame? Would it work for a tree? How about a man? “Has it?”
“There is a lot of winterkill, but a couple of trees have given us sour little apples. Pa is determined to produce a decent apple. Says he’ll call it a Montana.”
They passed the bushes and reached a fence. Three cows grazed in a little pasture.
“I’m currently milking two of them.”
A flock of sheep nibbled in another fenced area of grass, and a field of green oats lay beyond.
“The sheep are Lilly’s project.”
A trail led toward the river and they followed it. When they reached the water’s edge, she stood in the shadow of the trees. They were downstream and out of sight from where Lonnie waited at the camp Wyatt had set up. He stood at her side with the sound of the water rumbling through his thoughts.
“This is one of my favorite spots.” She sighed. “I can see so far. Look.” She pointed. “The prairies roll away like giant waves.”
He followed her direction. Indeed, the prairies were like a golden ocean. They went on and on. No walls. No bars. A man could fill his lungs to capacity here.
She shifted, brushing his arm as she pointed to his right, sending a jolt through his nerves. Even an accidental touch startled him. He wondered if she noticed, and if so, what did she think? Would she put it down to unexpectedness? Of course she would. She had no way of knowing that any contact in jail had signaled violence, and before that, Pa’s touch had taught him to jerk away.
No wonder Lonnie was so anxious about even gentle touches. But Wyatt would teach him...teach them both to welcome such.
Cora spoke softly. “In that direction you see the hills with their hollows full of trees.” She turned still farther. “And the mountains in the west. ’Tis truly a beautiful land, and like Pa says, we are to be good stewards of it.”
“I never thought of being a steward of the land.”
“I take it you’re planning to have a ranch and raise horses.”
It was an obvious conclusion. “Kind of hope to.”
“Are you opposed to farmers?
He shrugged. “Not opposed to much of anything.”
She shifted and pinned him with a look. “Don’t you believe in seeking good and avoiding evil?”
Her look reached into his chest to squeeze his heart. He stiffened as pain and regret oozed out. “I hate evil.” She’d never know how much of it he’d seen.
She nodded silent approval and his heart beat smoothly again.
He heard the sound of horses’ hooves and turned to see two riders approach. Beside him, Cora stiffened, alert and cautious.
Wyatt gave his full attention to the pair. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could tell. Medium build, lean as cowboys usually were. Dusty, work-soiled cowboy hats pulled low to shade their eyes. They rode slowly, as if studying the surroundings, or perhaps looking for a wayward horse. But he’d seen no sign of a wandering animal.
They rode closer, seemed to be aiming at the river. One spoke to the other. He couldn’t hear their words, but mocking laughter carried across the distance. They were fifty yards away when they reined up and stared at Cora and Wyatt. He realized they were in the shadows and the pair hadn’t noticed them until then.
The bigger of the men pushed his hat back, allowing Wyatt to see a swarthy man with a deep scowl. There was something about him that sent sharp prickles up Wyatt’s spine. He’d seen the same expression many times in prison, usually on the face of a bully. Someone who used intimidation to make people obey him.
He guessed Cora felt the same because she tensed even more. Her fists curled so tight her knuckles were white.
The man turned his horse and the pair rode away. Not until they were out of sight did Cora’s shoulders sag.
“You know those two?” he asked.
She sucked in air with such force he figured she hadn’t breathed for several minutes. She coughed as her lungs filled.
Wyatt patted her back gently, as if calming a frightened animal. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. The big cowboy is Ebner. He works for the Caldwell Ranch.” Her lip curled. “I believe he is responsible for almost all of the harm we’ve suffered.”
He nodded. Just as he thought. He’d dealt with men of that sort before and ended up with an enemy or two. Not that it bothered him. He refused to back down from any bully.
“What kind of things?” he asked her.
“He’s cut our fences, chased the milk cows until he might have killed them. He’s turned Caldwell cows into our garden and let the pigs loose.” She waved her hands as she described the events. Her voice rang with the injustice of it.
He caught her hands and stilled them. Realizing the liberty he’d taken, he dropped his arms to his sides. But not before a longing as wide as the prairie swept into his heart, making him aware of how empty and barren his life was. He wanted so much more than the right to hold her and comfort her. He longed for a home and love. He hoped to gain the first for Lonnie’s sake as well as his own. Winning Lonnie’s trust would have to satisfy his desire for love. He’d never ask or expect a woman to share the shame of being associated with a jailbird.
“Why do these men bother you? Doesn’t their boss know?”
“Mr. Caldwell likely orders them to do it. From the time we settled here, he’s been trying to drive us off.”
“Why would he care about your farm?”
She shrugged, her eyes full of anger. “I’ve asked that question many times. He told Pa it breaks up the perimeter of his ranch and blocks access to the river.” She snorted. “As if a few acres of farm are any hindrance to his animals watering at the river. But sodbusters are not welcome.”
“Isn’t there a marshal in the area? Surely he can protect your rights.”
“The Caldwells manage to stay within the law. They claim they can’t help it if the cows don’t understand fences. Only once has the sheriff been convinced the wires were purposely cut, and of course no one confessed to it, so there wasn’t anything the sheriff could do.”
“Well, you’d think the man would realize how unimportant a few acres are.” Even as he said it, he guessed it wasn’t about the acres but about the man’s pride. A rich man, likely used to getting what he wanted, and for whatever reason, he wanted the Bell farm. Or to be rid of the settlers in his midst.
“It’s mostly that he’s a Caldwell and wants to own everything on this side of the river,” Cora commented.
She turned her gaze from the trail of dust kicked up by the cowboys’ retreating horses and looked at him. Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “Maybe they saw you and thought we’d hired a guard.”
His plans did not include being a bodyguard to anyone. Except wasn’t that what he’d been for Lonnie? And continued to be?
But neither would he stand by and watch a bunch of cowboys bully the Bells. Not just because they had been kind to him, though that was reason enough, but because he would never stand by while people were pushed around for no reason. People could be pushed too far. He’d seen that with Lonnie and vowed to never again stand by and not take action. It had been the reason he’d stood up to Jimmy Stone. While he was here waiting for Fanny to foal, he’d keep his eyes open to any sort of trouble.
Cora turned and stepped away from the river. “I need to get at my chores.”
He followed her. They reached the edge of the garden and she stopped.
“Is there anything you need?” she asked.
“No, thanks. I enjoyed the tour of your farm.”
She met his eyes and smiled, and he was struck by the friendliness of her look. Her brown eyes were bottomless, as if she had nothing to hide.
Of course she didn’t. She’d been open with him.
He jerked his gaze past her lest she see the vast ocean of secrets he hid, and must always hide, if he and Lonnie hoped to have any chance of starting over.
“I need to get back to Lonnie,” he mumbled, and trotted away. His mind whirled with so many things—the beauty of the well-developed little farm and the endless land and the look on the face of that Caldwell cowboy, but mostly Cora’s pride in who she was and her fear at the approach of those riders.
It wasn’t right that this idyllic home should be marred by bullying cowboys. Cora had been kind to him from the start and he wanted to do something to show his gratitude.
He passed the partially constructed barn. Did they have neighbors or friends who were going to help finish it?
Seeing the building gave him an idea. A way he could repay the Bell’s kindness and watch the Caldwell cowboys. He’d offer to work on the barn.
He’d talk to Mr. Bell about it as soon as he’d checked on Lonnie.
* * *
“Cora, our prayers have been answered,” Pa said to her later that morning.
She straightened from hilling the potato plants and tried to think which prayer he meant.
The one for good weather? Well, seemed they had that to be grateful for.
Enough rain and sunshine to promise a bountiful crop? Again, it seemed that prayer had been generously answered. Thank You, God.
Or did he mean the one about protecting them from the mischief of the Caldwell cowboys?
Or perhaps the one he and Ma made no attempt to hide—to provide good, Christian husbands for the three girls and to give them many grandchildren while they were young enough to enjoy them. She grinned as she thought of that prayer. Then her amusement fled. They’d actually thanked God when Evan had ridden off.
“He wasn’t the man for you,” Pa had said.
Ma had hugged Cora. “You’ll see it’s true, once you get over being hurt.”
Cora knew they were right. It was her pride that was hurt more than her heart.
“Which prayer is that, Pa?”
“The one asking for someone to help finish the barn.”
She jerked to full attention and glanced around. “Someone came in answer to my advertisement? Guess Mr. Frank was wrong.” She wondered who was prepared to ignore the Caldwells’ displeasure, but saw no one and returned her attention to Pa.
“In answer to our prayers, not your notice.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t see the notice.”
Cora shook her head as if doing so would make her understand what Pa was talking about. “Who?”
“Wyatt, of course.”
“Wyatt?” She’d been thinking about it all morning—weighing the pros and cons, mentally listing what she knew about him against what she didn’t know—and she still wasn’t ready to take a chance on him, lest he be hiding something that would bring danger into their lives. “But, Pa, what do we know about him?”
“What do we need to know except he’s big and strong and willing to help?”
“Indeed.” Except maybe where he was from and where he was going and what was in between the past and the future. Wyatt Williams made her want to know all his secrets.
“When’s he planning to start?”
“I said you’d tell him what to do.”
She was glad Pa didn’t want to climb up the ladder and show Wyatt what to do, but she glanced at the potatoes yet to hill, then over to the barn. She couldn’t be in two places at the same time. Rose and Lilly were helping Ma can peas and make rhubarb preserves. She sighed and took the hoe to the shed.
Grub stirred himself from the cool garden soil and ambled after her. Despite her frustration, she smiled as she looked at his grin. Something she’d not really noticed until Wyatt pointed it out.
Maybe working with the newcomer wouldn’t be so bad.
She patted Grub’s head. “Are you coming with me to find him?”
Grub wriggled so hard his hind legs got ahead of him and he almost tumbled into a tangle.
Cora laughed and patted his head again, then turned toward the river and the place where Wyatt and Lonnie camped.
“You looking for me?”
She cranked her head around, feeling about as awkward as Grub.
Wyatt leaned against the corner of the bare barn walls, so relaxed and at ease it made her want to suggest they forget work and go for a walk. But he wasn’t here to waste time and neither was she.
“Pa said you offered to help build the barn.”
“Yes, in exchange for feed for my horses and some supplies for Lonnie and me, and he agreed.”
“I’m glad to have some help.” She stopped a few feet from the building and studied it. “We got this far—” The external walls were up, holes in place for windows and doors. “But Pa fell and hurt his leg.” She shook her head. “He’s getting too old to be running up and down the ladder.” She had to admit, though, his movements were more of a crawl than a run.
She closed her eyes against the fear that claimed her every time she thought of Pa falling.
“Is he hurt bad?” Wyatt’s quiet voice made it possible to talk again.
“He says it’s nothing, but I see the pain in his face when he moves too fast or turns too suddenly. It could have been so much worse.” Her voice broke and she paused to take in two calming breaths. “I saw him fall and thought—” Her throat clogged with tears and she couldn’t go on.
Wyatt unwound from his casual position and closed the distance between them. “God protected him.”
She nodded, grateful for his kind words. “And gifted us with more time with him.” She shook the depressing thoughts from her mind. “Do you have experience with construction?”
“I’ve helped put up a few buildings. Guess I know enough to put the right board in the right place and nail it solid.” His face wreathed in a grin. “If not, I hope you’ll correct me.”
She chuckled. “All I know is what I’ve learned from Pa. But I was only twelve when he built these other buildings, and mostly I handed him nails.” Her amusement grew as she thought of those days. “He let me hammer in a few nails and praised my efforts, but I believe he pulled out the bent nails and hammered them in straight when I wasn’t looking.”
“Sounds like he’s a good father.”
“The best.” A movement caught her eye and she saw Lonnie hiding in the shadows. “Are you going to help, too?” she asked him.
Lonnie ducked his head, as if he didn’t plan to answer, then lifted it and faced her squarely. “I mean to do my share.”
“That’s all anyone can expect, isn’t it?”
Even though he remained in the shadows, she saw a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. The boy seemed hungry for approval. Too bad Pa wasn’t going to be supervising. He was the expert on giving encouragement and approval but she’d be second best if she could.
“The tools are in the shed.”
“I already got them,” Wyatt said, pointing toward the saws and hammers next to the stack of lumber.
“Then let’s get at it.” She headed for the lumber pile. “Stu Maples, who owns the lumber yard, said we’d never be able to build the barn on our own—a bunch of women and a man getting up in years.” She chuckled. “But he didn’t mind selling us the lumber.”
Wyatt grabbed a board, laid it across the sawhorses, measured and cut it. “Lonnie, help me put it in place.”
Lonnie raced forward and grabbed an end.
Cora followed them. As soon as the board was in place, she started nailing.
Wyatt left her and Lonnie to do that while he cut another piece. They soon worked in a smooth rhythm.
“How long have you been here?” Wyatt asked.
“Eight years. Before that we lived in town. But Pa wanted us to be able to grow and produce more so we’d be self-sufficient.”
“Seems you got a little bit of everything.”
“Chickens, sheep, pigs, milk cows, the garden. I guess we have most everything. We make cheese, spin the wool and can the produce.” She knew her voice rang with pride.
Wyatt chuckled. “And you’re very proud of all your family has achieved.”
She straightened and grinned at him. “Guess I make it pretty obvious.”
Wyatt handed her the next board. “I’d say you have good reason to feel that way.”
“It’s my family I’m most proud of. We’re strong and...survivors, I guess you’d say.”
“Huh?” He paused from sawing a board to look at her. “Survivors? Oh, I suppose you mean the Caldwells.”
“That and other things.” Their gazes connected across the distance as he seemed to contemplate asking her for further explanation.
She didn’t mind providing the answer, whether or not he asked the question. “Not all fathers are like my pa.”
Lonnie dropped a board and jerked back, a look of such abject fear on his face that she automatically reached for him. She meant to comfort him, but he threw up his arms as if he expected her to—
Hit him?
She looked to Wyatt for explanation.
He focused on Lonnie. “It’s okay, Lon. No harm done. Just pick up your end again.”
Lonnie shuddered. His wide dark eyes slowly returned to normal and he bent to retrieve the board.
Cora continued to stare at him, then shifted her study to Wyatt. There was something seriously wrong with Lonnie, and if Wyatt planned to stay on the place, she needed an explanation.
Wyatt met her look and shook his head.
She nodded. Now was not the time or the place, but she would be sure to find an opportunity very soon. If whatever caused Lonnie’s fear threatened the safety and security of her family in any way, she would insist they move on.
But would he tell her the truth?
Her experience with men didn’t give her much confidence that he would.
Chapter Four
Cora returned to the task of building the barn for another half hour, then straightened. “I’m thirsty. Let’s get a drink.”
Wyatt dropped everything and followed her toward the pump. Even Lonnie didn’t hesitate.
She pumped and Wyatt filled the dipper.
“Thanks. I’m about parched.” He drank three full dippers, then took off his hat and poured some over his head. He shook the water from his face and planted his hat back on his wet head. “That’s better. Thanks.”
Her eyes followed the trails streaking from his wavy, dark brown hair down his sun-bronzed face and dripping off his chiseled chin. Chiseled chin! She snorted. What kind of observation was that? Right up there with her mental description of his chocolate-colored eyes with flashes of evening shadows in them and a certain sadness that she’d noticed before and put down to something in his past that he hid.
She drank from the dipper and considered pouring the rest of the water over her head. It might cool her face, but it would do nothing to cool her thoughts.
She splashed cold water on her face and handed the dipper to Lonnie, who drank his fill. Then, with a grin teasing his lips, he lifted his hat and poured water over his head.
Wyatt stared at him.
Cora laughed, which brought two pairs of eyes toward her. She couldn’t tell which of the two was more surprised, but Wyatt recovered first and tipped his head back and laughed. Then, his eyes sparkling, he squeezed Lonnie’s shoulder.
Cora could see the boy start to shrug away and then stop himself, and the pleasure in Wyatt’s eyes went so deep that it made her eyes sting.
She could hardly wait to hear Wyatt’s explanation for his brother’s odd behavior.
Rose trotted toward the garden, likely to get potatoes for supper.
Lilly sang as she went to feed the pigs.
“I need to do chores,” Cora said.
Wyatt nodded. “We’ll work a bit longer.” He and Lonnie returned to the barn while Cora made her way to the pasture to get the cows. First, she did her usual check on the pasture fence. It had a habit of mysteriously breaking down and letting the cows wander away. Not that there was any mystery about the cause of the frequent breaks. The cowboys from the Caldwell ranch broke the wires and generally made life as miserable as possible for the Bells.
She found no breaks in the fence. The cowboys must be too busy to harass them at the moment. The sun headed toward the mountaintops, signaling the end of the afternoon as she finished inspecting the fence and took Bossy and Maude home, lowing for feed and milking.
She gave them each a few oats, grabbed the milk buckets and milked the cows. As she rose to turn the cows into the pen, she almost ran into Wyatt as he rounded the corner at the same time.
He clamped his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Whoa there, girl.”
His warm and firm hands held her like an anchor. His fingers pressed into her shoulders, easing an ache she’d developed while hoeing in the garden and then hammering nails. A scent of warm soil, hard work and strength filled her nostrils and tugged at something deep inside. She fought to right herself—not physically but mentally. When had she ever reacted so strongly to a simple touch? Or the nearness of a man? She certainly hadn’t had these unexpected feelings around Evan.
Evan! Remembering him made her pull back.
Wyatt’s hands dropped to his sides.
She sucked in air to keep from swaying. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Wasn’t paying attention. Truth is, I don’t usually see anyone around when I’m milking.” It was one of the times she could count on solitude.
“Let me guess. No one else wants to share the task.”
She couldn’t decide if he teased or not and wouldn’t look directly at him to gauge. She was finding it much too difficult to think clearly already. “Did you want something?” Of course he did. What other reason would he come to the shed?
“I think you and I need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Would you like to go for a walk after supper?”
Her thoughts hammered against the inside of her head. It sounded like a courting request, but of course it was only a way for them to talk.
No reason for her to be on edge.
“That will be fine.” She took the buckets of milk and headed for the house. She could walk with a man without her heart racing ahead with possibilities.
* * *
Wyatt knew Cora would demand to know about Lonnie’s reaction. He thought of what he’d say while he and Lonnie tended the horses and built a small fire to fry up the potatoes and the last of the eggs. He hated to always be asking, but he needed more eggs and meat if the Bells could spare some. Lonnie needed to eat better. The boy was as scrawny as a poplar sapling.
“Did you like working on the barn?” Lonnie asked.
Wyatt wasn’t sure what the boy wanted with his unexpected question. “I like building things. Always have.”
“Huh. What have you built?”
“Have you forgotten I built that rocker Ma had?”
“Pa broke it after you went to jail.”
Wyatt glanced both ways out of habit.
Lonnie jerked around and studied the surroundings. “Sooner or later they’re gonna find out.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t intend to tell them.” He turned the conversation back to building.
Lonnie looked interested for about thirty seconds, then his expression soured. “Suppose that’s why Pa broke it? ’Cause you built it?”