JUST THE COWBOY SHE NEEDED?

The last thing Cora Bell wants is a distracting cowboy showing up on her family’s farm seeking temporary shelter. Especially one she is sure has something to hide. But she’ll accept Wyatt Williams’s help rebuilding her family’s barn—and try not to fall once again for a man whose plans don’t include staying around.

Since leaving his troubled past behind, Wyatt avoids personal entanglements. He just wants to make a new start with his younger brother. But there’s something about Cora that he’s instinctively drawn to. Dare this solitary cowboy risk revealing his secrets for a chance at redemption and a bright new future with Cora by his side?

MONTANA MARRIAGES: Three sisters discover a legacy of love beneath the Western sky

“Thank you for catching me.”

“You gave me quite a scare.” Would she notice the tremble in his voice that he couldn’t hide?

“Me, too.”

To keep from touching her, Wyatt pressed his hands to the new boards. If only he had the freedom to pull her close and comfort her. But he didn’t, and never would, because he would never be free from the sting of his past.

Cora sucked in air. “I owe you for saving my life.”

He tried to snort but it sounded more like a groan. “Let’s hope you wouldn’t have died.”

She faced him, but he kept his gaze riveted to the spot where she almost fell. “Wyatt, if you need or want anything, feel free to ask. If I can, I’ll give it to you.”

Slowly his gaze sought hers and he fell into the darkness of her eyes and the sweetness of her invitation. He had needs and wants. Acceptance despite his past, someone who trusted him, believed in him, loved him. His throat tightened. His heart ached with longing. If only she could give him what he needed.

LINDA FORD

lives on a ranch in Alberta, Canada. Growing up on the prairie and learning to notice the small details it hides gave her an appreciation for watching God at work in His creation. Her upbringing also included being taught to trust God in everything and through everything—a theme that resonates in her stories. Threads of another part of her life are found in her stories—her concern for children and their future. She and her husband raised fourteen children—four homemade, ten adopted. She currently shares her home and life with her husband, a grown son, a live-in paraplegic client and a continual (and welcome) stream of kids, kids-in-law, grandkids and assorted friends and relatives.

Big Sky Cowboy

Linda Ford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

—Jeremiah 29:11

To adoptive parents who, like the Bells, welcome into their family children not born to them. May love and joy shine forever on your family.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

A farm near Bar Crossing, Montana

Summer, 1889

Squee.

What was that awful noise?

Wyatt Williams eased back on his reins and glanced over his shoulder to his brother, Lonnie. The sixteen-year-old shrank back as if he wished to disappear into the saddle.

Squee. Squee.

The sound came again, rending the air and filling it with tension.

Wyatt stared at the farm ahead. From where he sat he had a good view of the place. A pretty little house with a bay window and a little veranda faced the road. A tumble of flowers in every hue of the rainbow surrounded the house. A garden as precise as a ruler ran from the river to the trees at the back of the lot. There were several tidy buildings, some pens and the naked skeleton of a barn.

Wyatt considered his brother and the mare he led. Fanny was heavy with foal. The weeks of moving had taxed her strength. He couldn’t push her farther.

His gaze went past Lonnie and the horse. He couldn’t see the other mares that he hoped to start a new ranch with, but he knew they were tied securely down by the water. He only wanted permission from the farmer to camp by the river until Fanny foaled, and she and the newborn grew strong enough to resume their journey. Plus their supplies were running low and he hoped to restock here. He could ride to the nearby town for what he needed, but it seemed unnecessary. Wyatt studied the sign nailed to the gatepost.

For Sale—Eggs, Milk, Cheese, Garden Stuff.

His mouth watered. Fresh food had never sounded so good.

“Wait here,” he told Lonnie, and rode forward.

From around one of the outbuildings came a squealing pig with a floppy-eared, big-footed dog barking at its tail.

A young woman skidded around the corner, blond braids flying. “You get back here, you little trouble-maker.” She dived for it, catching the animal for about ten seconds before it slipped away, squealing righteous indignation and leaving the gal in the dirt.

Wyatt drew to a halt and grinned.

The woman picked herself up and shook a finger at the dog. “Grub, enough. I’ll never catch the crazy pig with you barking and chasing after it.”

Wyatt took Grub to be the dog’s name, for it stopped and yapped and then turned back to pig chasing, which seemed to be the sport of the day. The young woman took off after them. The pig veered from side to side. She pounced on it again, but it wasn’t about to be captured. It wriggled free and headed in Wyatt’s direction.

His horse snorted.

“Rooster, you never mind. He’s just a wee oinker.” Wyatt reached for his lariat, swung a lazy loop and dropped it over the pig’s head.

The little pig yanked on the rope, trying to get free. The squeals that erupted about deafened Wyatt and, he guessed, anyone within a hundred yards.

The gal blinked at Wyatt. “I just about had him.” Her brown eyes challenged him. Seemed she didn’t care to have someone interfere in her work.

Her attitude tickled Wyatt clear to the pit of his stomach. He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

She planted her hands on her hips. The flash in her eyes told him how hard it was for her to maintain her annoyed look.

He tipped his head toward the pig, who continued to fight the rope and put up an awful fuss. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me suggesting it, why not let me lead the pig to his pen.” Though he guessed “lead” was only a wish.

She nodded decisively. “No doubt that would be wise. Come along, then.” She moved toward an enclosure while Wyatt dragged and tugged and generally fought his way after her, Rooster snorting his protest at the indignity.

She held the pen gate open. Wyatt dismounted and pushed the pig through the space she gave him, then slipped off the rope. Five other little pigs rushed forward, joining in the melee. An old, fat sow huffed over to them.

The young woman sighed and wiped her hand across her brow, leaving a streak of dirt to match the three on her dress.

The dog sat on his haunches watching the pig.

Wyatt gave the dog further study. “Does he always wear a grin?”

“A grinning dog and a crying pig. Who’d believe it?” The girl hooted with laughter.

Wyatt couldn’t remember when he’d last heard such a freeing sound. His grin widened, went deep into his heart.

She calmed her chuckles, though her quivering lips warned him it might resume at any moment.

From behind him came a strange sound. He jerked around to see the source. Lonnie had moved close enough to see and hear, and he laughed, too. A sound almost foreign to Wyatt’s ears.

Lonnie noticed Wyatt watching and immediately sobered.

Oh, how Wyatt wished his brother would stop being so tense around him. Lonnie was even more jumpy around strangers, and yet...

Wyatt looked at the woman before him. Had her laughter drawn Lonnie forward? He shifted his gaze toward the pigs. Was it the animals that attracted Lonnie?

Whatever it was, Wyatt was grateful.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.” The pretty young woman drew his attention back to her.

“Nope. Name’s Wyatt Williams. This is my brother, Lonnie.”

“Pleased to meet you both. I’m Cora Bell. What can I do for you?”

“My mare needs to rest.” He indicated Fanny. “The rest of my animals are down at the river. We want permission to stay there until she’s ready to travel again. We could use some supplies, as well. I saw your sign on the gate and thought...”

“I can certainly sell you anything we have. You’ll need to talk to Pa about your animals, though. Come along.”

He dismounted, handed Rooster’s reins to Lonnie and strode after her.

She led him to a small outbuilding and stepped inside. He followed into the dim interior.

“Pa, I brought you company.”

A man emerged from behind a stack of wood pieces, old barrel hoops and broken wagon wheels. He wiped his greasy hands on a stained rag.

Cora introduced the pair.

Mr. Bell held out a soiled hand. “Pleased to meet you. What brings you to our part of the country?”

Wyatt repeated his request. “I’ll only stay until my mare and her foal are ready to travel, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Got someplace to be, do you?”

Mr. Bell likely only meant to make conversation, but the question made Wyatt face the fact that he didn’t know where they were going. How far would they have to in order to get away from their past? How far before Lonnie could forget their abusive father? How far before people would forget Wyatt had gone to jail for beating up the old man?

Not that he’d done it. Lonnie, sensitive and quiet, had snapped one day and turned on their father. Knowing his brother would never survive in jail, Wyatt had confessed to the crime. Now, a year later, he was out. Of course, no one would let that be in the past. Pa had died while Wyatt was in prison. Perhaps the beating had done irreparable damage. Or maybe Pa’s hard life had caught up with him. Ma, God rest her soul, had lived long enough to see Wyatt free again. Then she’d wearily given up as if life was just too much effort.

Wyatt had sold their farm in Kansas and was headed as far away from there as possible. He planned to buy a bit of land someday and start over. He’d be a rancher. Raise horses. Find peace. He’d brought along a half-dozen mares to start a herd with. He and Lonnie—wanting to forget their past and hoping for a happy future. Somewhere. Sometime. He rubbed at the tightness in his neck. Maybe in Canada they could start over without him constantly looking over his shoulder.

He shuddered, then sucked in a lungful of air and forced his thoughts under control. He would not think of those who might recognize him from the trial. Or even those who might have their own reasons for tracking him down. For instance, a certain jailbird who hated Wyatt and vowed to make him pay for Wyatt’s interference when the man tried to bully his way into power in jail. Not that he figured Jimmy Stone had enough get-up-and-go to ride after them. But the man had gotten out of prison a few weeks after Wyatt, and Wyatt hadn’t been able to forget the man’s threats.

“Headed north,” he said, answering Mr. Bell’s question.

“You’ve about run out of north.” The old man scratched his whiskered chin. “Unless you’re headed for Canada.”

“Might be.” Even if he had particulars about his destination, he wouldn’t be sharing them.

Mr. Bell studied him a moment. “You sound like a man running from something.”

“Could be I’m running to something.”

Mr. Bell didn’t blink. “So long as your running poses no threat to me or my family.”

Wyatt didn’t answer. He couldn’t give that kind of assurance. “My mare’s about to foal.”

Mr. Bell limped toward the door. “Let’s have a look.”

They made their slow way toward Lonnie and the mare. Lonnie tossed the mare’s rope toward Wyatt and backed away at their approach. No one but Wyatt seemed to notice Lonnie’s odd behavior. The others were too busy eyeing Fanny. He introduced his brother to Mr. Bell, who greeted him, then returned his attention to the horse.

Mr. Bell ran his hand along Fanny’s sides and walked around the horse then tsked. “She needs to rest. Where did you say you come from?”

“Didn’t say.”

Mr. Bell straightened and fixed Wyatt with a look that caused him to hastily add, “Been on the road awhile.”

“That’s no excuse for exhausting a mare this heavy in foal.” The look Mr. Bell gave him would have made many a man stammer some kind of apology, but Wyatt had faced harsher looks and far bigger men without revealing a hint of weakness.

“Been looking for a decent place to stop for a few days now.”

“Huh.”

Apparently that wasn’t a good enough excuse. And Wyatt wasn’t about to tell anyone that every time he mentioned stopping Lonnie had begged him not to. Until now, he hadn’t been able to ignore his brother’s request.

Cora grinned at Wyatt. “Best you know Pa can’t abide any carelessness with God’s creatures or His creation.”

“I gathered.”

“Cora, run and get some of Ma’s tonic. Be sure to tell her it’s for a mare in foal.”

“Yes, Pa.” She trotted away.

Wyatt watched her go, then realized Mr. Bell was studying him, and shifted his gaze back to the mare. “Do I have your permission for me and my brother to camp down by the river with my stock?”

Mr. Bell rocked his eyes from Wyatt to Lonnie to the mare and out to the river a couple of times as if measuring...considering.

If he knew the facts he would no doubt be asking them to move on.

Mr. Bell nodded. “Can’t hardly ask you to take this mare any farther. You’re welcome to pen them here and throw your bedrolls in the shed.”

Wyatt didn’t have to look at Lonnie to know his face would be pinched. “Thanks, but we’ll be comfortable camping down by the water.”

“Fine. Before you take the mare there, I’ll give her some tonic to strengthen her. Do you have oats?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I’m out. Would you have some I could purchase?”

“I’ll see to it.” Mr. Bell faced Wyatt. The man looked almost old enough to be Cora’s grandfather. He had a strong face, lined from years of both good times and worry. His hair was thick and gray. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” The look he gave Wyatt said a whole lot more than his words.

Wyatt understood the man’s warning. Wyatt’s vague answers had given him reason to be suspicious. If Mr. Bell knew the truth—a history of family violence and time in prison—he’d chase Wyatt and Lonnie away in spite of Fanny’s condition.

Wyatt kept his gaze on Fanny.

Would he ever escape the shame and regret of his past?

* * *

With a smile on her lips, Cora made her way to the garden shed. How quickly and easily Wyatt had dropped a loop over that silly piglet’s head. But, oh, the fuss the pig had made. Better entertainment than a circus.

Wyatt had laughed easily, but she’d seen so many secrets behind his dark eyes. She’d also noticed how his brother had pulled away from them all. It wasn’t simply shyness. No, there was something unusual about his reaction.

Her amusement fled. She suspected he hid something. Secrets, in her opinion, made people forget things they’d promised to those they pretended to care about. She might be considered innocent, but despite being only twenty years old, she knew that much for certain. Like her supposed beau, Evan Price. Pretending to really care about her while all the time planning to leave for the goldfields. Goodbye came far too easy for him. She drew in a deep breath and forced her thoughts to things she needed to do yet today.

Between the wandering pig and the visiting cowboy she was way behind in her chores, and she picked up her pace. She had butter to churn and cheese to start. The sale of these products, plus whatever people offered in return for the healing powders that Ma made from medicinal plants, brought in the cash to pay for what they couldn’t raise themselves.

A quick glance at the garden informed her that Lilly had not pulled weeds as she’d agree to. Heaven alone knew where she’d wandered off to. Likely she was searching for the mama cat and her newborn kittens. Ma and Rose were in the garden shed, and she turned her steps in that direction.

Rose stepped from the garden shed, saw her and waved. “We’re making progress.” Rose wanted Ma to write down all medicinal remedies. That meant Rose was writing as Ma recited them.

“Good,” Cora said. She stepped into the shed. “Ma, can I have some tonic for a horse?”

“Horse tonic?” Rose asked.

Cora jabbed her finger over her shoulder. “Company.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” It wasn’t as if they never had company. Lots of people dropped by to purchase eggs or butter or cheese or garden produce or something for an ailment.

She explained to Ma and Rose about the mare.

Ma shook dust from her ample apron. She ran her hands over her gray hair and patted her skirts smooth. “Let’s have a look.”

The trio walked to where Pa and Wyatt stood talking next to the mare. Lonnie and the other two horses were gone. As she expected, Pa had allowed them to rest down by the river. “Ma, this is Wyatt Williams. Wyatt, my mother, Mrs. Gertie Bell. And this is my sister Rose.”

As the others studied Wyatt, Cora also took a good look at him. Dark hair showed around his black cowboy hat. His brown eyes were fringed with long lashes. And despite the shadows in his eyes, he looked as though he smiled often.

Eighteen-year-old Rose’s red hair drew Wyatt’s gaze like a moth to flames, but he shifted his gaze past her and said hello to her mother.

Ma nodded to Wyatt, then turned her attention to the horse. “Poor thing looks exhausted. This tonic ought to make her feel better.”

Lilly drifted by, saw the crowd and shifted direction. “What’s everyone doing here?”

Rose and Lilly were twins, although as different as the flowers they’d been named for.

Lilly cradled one of last year’s kittens.

Cora moved to Lilly’s side as she introduced Wyatt yet again. “That’s our family.”

“Pleased to meet you all,” he said. “I don’t plan to be a nuisance. We’ll be down by the river until Fanny here and her new baby are ready to move.”

Another wanderer. Here today, maybe tomorrow or even the next day, then gone as fast as he could pull his boots on...or, in this case, as soon as he deemed his horse fit to move on.

Cora’d had her fill of wandering men. First her birth father had abandoned her and the twins when she was five and the twins just three. The day was burned into her memory.

Papa in a wagon, riding away with a promise to return. “Wait for me. I’ll be back,” he’d said. But he’d never returned and she’d never known why.

And then Evan. Cora wondered how she could have let herself care for him in the first place. Once bitten, twice shy. She’d not be so willing to trust a man again.

“You’re fortunate you ended up here,” Rose said. “Our ma is known for her healing powders and ointments.”

“I’m grateful, though it was the sign on your gate that caught my attention. Then I saw your sister chasing after a pig and had to ride closer.”

Cora groaned. Now Lilly would get all concerned.

“What pig?” Lilly looked about ready to cry. How many times had Cora told her sister that, at eighteen, tears shouldn’t be so close to the surface?

“One of the little pigs,” Cora said.

“But which one?”

“I couldn’t say. They all look the same to me.” Fat, pink or otherwise, and noisy. She darted a glance at Wyatt. He flashed a grin as if recalling the chase they’d had.

She almost laughed and choked the sound back so she wouldn’t be called upon to explain herself. She drew curious looks from both sisters. She patted her chest as if she had a tickle.

But Lilly had not lost sight of her concern over the pigs. “Was the pig all pink or did it have spots?”

Cora honestly could not say. She’d been entirely focused on getting the creature back into the pen before it had decided to root in the garden the way one had done last week. She’d managed to salvage some of the bean plants, but half a dozen were beyond help. After all her hard work planting and weeding.

“There was a black spot on its rump,” Wyatt said.

Cora stared at him. How had he noticed when she hadn’t?

“That was Mini,” Lilly said. “I hope you didn’t hurt him. He’s the littlest one, you know.”

“He looked fine to me,” Cora said.

“I’ll check on him.” Lilly dashed off with Rose after her.

Pa gave the horse the tonic, then he and Ma wandered away, leaving Cora alone with Wyatt.

She wasn’t sure what to say. Was she supposed to escort him down to the river? She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My sister worries so much about those pigs.” She realized she might not appear to be sympathetic and she truly was. “Don’t get me wrong. I adore my sister. Both of them. They mean the world to me.”

He studied her a moment, his eyes filled with those dark secrets she’d noticed before. “I guess your family is your life.”

She’d never thought of it that way, but it was true. “Yes, they are.” She wanted to ask about his family, but before she could, he spoke again.

“Your pa said I could buy some oats for my horses. Could you tell me where I can find them?”

She went to the shed and pointed to the bins in the corner. “I’d better get back to my work.” She returned to the workroom off the kitchen to churn butter. Even with all the windows open, the room was far too warm. She needed to get a springhouse built so there’d be a cool place to store the butter and cheese during the summer. But she never had enough time, and Pa, bless his heart, tried to help, but he was getting far too old and sore for heavy work.

As she pumped the handle of the churn, her thoughts returned to the cowboy.

When she’d first seen him, she’d hoped he’d come in answer to the notice she’d nailed up in the store several days ago, offering a job to someone who would help her build a new barn. It seemed Mr. Frank, the store owner, was right. No one was going to risk displeasure from the Caldwells by helping the Bells.

The Caldwells objected to the Bells farming in the midst of their ranch land. It was only a mistake, they insisted, that the Bells had been able to file on that particular piece of land. They’d made it clear the Bells should pack up and leave. Pa was equally convinced that the little bit of land they owned next to the river shouldn’t matter to the Caldwells. The cowboys and cows could access the river for miles on either side. So he refused every effort the Caldwells made to convince him to relocate.

But Wyatt had only stopped to take care of his horses, not to help with the barn.

A thought grew. Maybe he’d be interested in helping with the construction work in exchange for oats for the animals and supplies for himself and Lonnie. He certainly looked strong enough to handle the work.

The man hid secrets, but did it matter? He meant to move on. All she cared about was getting the barn finished this summer.

But first she’d make sure he posed no threat to her family.

How was she to find out?

Chapter Two

Wyatt led Fanny to the river. Lonnie scrambled to his feet and backed away at their approach. Wyatt hoped to see the fear and tension disappear when Lonnie saw who it was, but neither did.

He sighed. “Lonnie, why do you act like I’m going to hurt you? You know I won’t.”

Lonnie nodded and mumbled. “I guess.”

Guess? Was that the best the boy could do? Wyatt let it go. He could only hope that time would heal Lonnie’s wounds. “Mr. Bell said we could stay here. Help me make camp.” He tossed the end of a rope toward Lonnie. “Stretch it between those trees.” They’d make a rope corral to hold the mares.

Lonnie jumped to do as Wyatt said. Jumped too fast, Wyatt figured. As if he thought that if he dillydallied, Wyatt would boot him. How long would it be before Lonnie stopped expecting to be treated the way their pa had treated him?

Wyatt had set his mind to being patient and soft-spoken with the boy, even when his fearful attitude made him want to shake him.

“That ought to hold them for now. I bought oats from the Bells. How about you give the mares a ration?”

Lonnie eagerly did so. The only time he truly relaxed was around animals. Not that Wyatt could blame him. He, too, had plenty of reason not to trust people. Jail had been a harsh teacher in that regard.

“Now let’s get a camp set up for us.”

“How long are we going to stay?” Lonnie rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

It was his usual worry stance. Wyatt remembered him doing it from the time he started to walk. Wyatt secretly smiled as he recalled those good memories before their family had been affect by their pa’s moods. Pa hadn’t always been violent. Wyatt could say exactly when it happened. Seemed it was sometime after Lonnie was born.

“We’ll have to stay until Fanny foals and the baby is strong enough to travel.”

Lonnie held one corner of the tarpaulin they were securing between trees for shelter. “But didn’t she have some kind of tonic? Won’t that make her able to go farther?”

“No, it won’t.” As Mr. Bell said, they had pushed the poor animal too much already.

Lonnie let his corner of the canvas droop.

“We can’t run forever.” Wyatt kept his voice calm and soothing. “Can you hold your corner tight?”

Lonnie jerked the canvas taut. “Why not?”

“We’d run out of money, for one thing.” Besides, he ached to settle down. Had from his first day in jail. One thing he’d promised himself while behind bars—once he got out he’d find a place where he could belong and find peace. He still clung to that dream, though he didn’t know the when or where of it.

“We could go into the bush, and hunt and fish.”

“I suppose we could. We’d be hermits. You think you’d like that?”

“Maybe.”

He tied Lonnie’s corner of the tarpaulin and stepped back. “There. Looks like a nice home for us.” He reached out to drape an arm across Lonnie’s shoulders.

Lonnie shrank away.

Wyatt closed his eyes. It hurt like crazy to be treated this way by Lonnie. “We’ll move on after Fanny’s foal is born and it’s strong enough to travel.”

“How long will that be?” Lonnie asked.

“I expect a month or so.”

“A month!” Lonnie stalked away to the bank of the river, mumbling under his breath. “What if they find out?”

“We’ll make sure they don’t.”

He wanted so much for Lonnie to feel safe with him. To feel safe around other people.

During his days in prison, Wyatt’s only consolation had been reading his Bible and praying. Prayer was unhindered by bars. He’d promised himself to trust God every day and in every way. If he meant to keep his vow, he had to believe they’d been led to this place. Seemed the Bells were the kind of people to extend hospitality for the sake of his animals.

Could it be they would also accept a jailbird? But he wasn’t ready to cast aside his doubts and caution. Not until he’d had a chance to see what sort of folk they were. Even then, parts of his past must remain a secret. But he wanted Lonnie to feel at ease with them. Lonnie’s constant nervousness would surely make people suspicious that something wasn’t right.

“The Bells seem like nice people.” The thought of Cora laughing brought a smile to Wyatt’s face. “You didn’t meet the twins.”

Lonnie turned, an eager expression on his face. “Boys? Are they my age?”

“Girls. And they’re about as big as Cora.”

“Oh, well.” Lonnie moseyed over to Wyatt’s side and sank down beside him. “How old you figure Cora is?”

“I don’t know.”

“You could ask me.” At the sound of a lilting voice, Wyatt jerked about to see Cora standing nearby. “You said you were out of supplies so I brought you some things.” She held up a sack.

Lonnie jerked to his feet and hurried over to the horses.

Wyatt did his best to hide his disappointment at Lonnie’s retreat and turned back to Cora with a smile that didn’t chase the throb from behind his eyes.

At the way her gaze followed Lonnie, he knew she wondered at the boy’s sudden withdrawal.

“He’s shy,” he said by way of explanation.

“Lilly is much the same way.”

“So how old are you?” He hoped it was the kind of question that would divert her from following any suspicions she had about Lonnie’s behavior.

“Twenty,” she answered, her gaze still on the boy. “And you?”

“Twenty-one.” He felt a lot older. Old enough to be weary, though that was as much the result of a year in prison as from being on the road for weeks. “Lonnie’s sixteen.”

She took a good look around. “You’ve got a pretty good setup here.”

“It suits us.”

She nodded. Her gaze came to him and she gave him serious consideration.

What did she see? He banked every thought but survival. She must never guess his secret. “Care to sit a spell?”

She sat on a log to his right.

“I’d offer you cookies and coffee, but I have no cookies and haven’t built a fire yet, so I don’t have any coffee.”

She smiled, sending golden light through her eyes. “Maybe I can help.”

She opened the sack she carried and pulled out new potatoes and carrots so fresh he could smell them. She held up a jar of milk, then set it by him. She unwrapped a generous piece of cheese and set down a half-dozen eggs.

Despite his practice of hiding his feelings, he felt his eyes widen with pleasure at such delights. He swallowed a rush of saliva. He hadn’t seen food such as this in so long it was but a hungry memory.

Then she removed another packet from the sack and unfolded the paper. “Cookies. Ma said you looked hungry.” She grinned with such innocent happiness that his heart twisted into a knot.

Her smile would not be so warm and welcoming if she knew the truth about him.

She would never know.

His gaze clung to the cookies. They’d had nothing but hard biscuits and jerky for three days. “Lonnie, she brought milk and cookies,” he called. “Come have some.”

“What kind?”

Wyatt almost laughed. As if it made any difference. Lonnie was every bit as hungry as Wyatt. “Cow’s milk.”

Lonnie snorted. “I mean the cookies.”

“Oh.” He knew what Lonnie meant but he went out of his way to force his brother to talk to him.

“Oatmeal and raisin,” Cora said. “Ma made them, and she’s a very good cook.”

“Your favorite, if I remember correctly,” Wyatt added.

Lonnie still hesitated.

Wyatt pulled three tin cups from the supplies and held them out to Cora. She unscrewed the lid from the jar and poured milk into each cup. He handed her one cup and took a long drink from another.

“This is so good. I haven’t had fresh milk since—” He smiled as Lonnie moved closer and sat down as far away from Cora as possible and took the cup of milk Wyatt offered.

Cora passed around the cookies. “Have two.” They needed no urging.

For a moment they enjoyed the snack without need for words.

Cora, who only ate one cookie, finished before Wyatt and Lonnie. “Where do you plan on going?”

He’d answered the question when her pa had asked and she knew it. And her quiet tone didn’t make him believe she only made conversation. She wanted to know more about him. And he couldn’t blame her. Two strangers camped so close to their home posed a risk. But not the sort she probably imagined.

“We’ll know when we get there.”

“I suppose. When did you leave your home? Where did you say it was?”

“Didn’t say. We’ve been on the road a couple weeks.” Give or take. He didn’t intend to offer any more information. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Lonnie’s leg bouncing and shot him a look of assurance.

“You have any other family?”

Wyatt choked back the mouthful of cookie, suddenly as dry as dust. He took a sip of milk to wet his mouth.

Lonnie grew as still as the log on which he sat. Wyatt wondered if he even breathed.

“No other family,” Wyatt said softly.

“No ma and pa?” She sounded shocked.

“Ma died a couple months back.” Wyatt figured she’d hung around just long enough for Wyatt’s return. Long enough to make Wyatt promise to take care of Lonnie. Even without Ma’s admonition, he’d have made sure Lonnie was okay. He’d been Lonnie’s guardian and protector since Ma had put the tiny baby, only one day old, in Wyatt’s arms. She’d hugged them both. Wyatt had put his finger in Lonnie’s palm and the baby’s tiny fingers had curled around it.

It probably wasn’t manly to say it, but it had been love at first touch.

He loved his troubled little brother even more now.

“I’m so sorry.” Cora’s voice thickened as if she held back tears. “I can’t imagine not having a ma.”

The river rumbled by, on its way to the ocean, where it would become part of something so much bigger it would disappear. Was that how death was? Or maybe it was only how it felt to those left behind, because he knew Ma had gone to something better where her pain and fear disappeared and she became whole and happy again.

“What about your pa?” Cora asked.

Her words vibrated through the air. Wyatt kept a firm look on Lonnie, silently begging him not to overreact.

Lonnie met his eyes, correctly read Wyatt’s message, and didn’t speak or move.

Relieved, Wyatt smiled and nodded reassurance. He didn’t break eye contact with Lonnie as he answered Cora.

“Our pa’s been dead several months now.” He’d survived the beating but from what Ma and Lonnie said, it seemed something inside him had been broken. He never regained his strength but slowly faded away to a shadow before he died, which was a mercy for Lonnie. It had freed the boy from the fear of more abuse. But from what Wyatt had put together about the year he’d been missing, he figured the boy was made to feel ashamed because he had a brother in prison, and he remained afraid even after Pa was dead and gone.

Cora touched the back of his hand, bringing his attention to her. “I’m so sorry. You’re both far too young to be orphans.” She pulled her hand back to her lap.

His skin where she’d touched him burned as if he’d had too much sun in that one spot. He’d not been touched in a compassionate way in so long he didn’t know how to respond.

“At least we have each other.” He managed to squeeze out the words. He gripped Lonnie’s shoulder, felt the tension and held on until the boy began to relax. “We will always have each other.”

* * *

Cora stared at her empty cup. She tipped it as if she could dredge up another drop of milk and that would somehow give her the words to express her sorrow at their state. No wonder Lonnie acted as though the world was ready to beat him up. Likely that was how it felt.

It was enough to make her want to offer Wyatt and Lonnie a home with the Bells, where they’d find the welcome and warmth she and her sisters had found.

Mrs. Bell had found five-year-old Cora and the twins two days after their real father had ridden away.

Cora remembered how she’d been ready to defend them. “My papa’s coming back,” she’d told Ma Bell. She’d looked down the trail as if he might suddenly appear. “He’ll be here any second now.” They were the same words she’d spoken to the twins throughout the lonely, fear-filled days and night. But the twins had gone readily into Ma Bell’s open arms and been comforted.

Cora had needed a little more persuasion.

“Your sisters are tired and dirty and hungry,” Ma had said. “Why not come with us? I’ll help you take care of them.”

It was the only argument she would have listened to. Their mother had died a few weeks previously, but not before she’d made Cora promise to take care of the twins.

Their father had never returned, though Cora had watched for him for several years. She’d given up looking for him, but she would never forget the promise she’d made to her mother, which meant she must be very careful about every decision she made. On the other hand, Ma and Pa Bell made the promise easy to keep.

The Bells had loved the girls from the first. She wished everyone could have people like them—loving and true. They’d never once given her any reason to doubt them or their word.

“I’m sorry you don’t have parents,” she said as she handed Wyatt the empty cup.

Wyatt nodded as he took it from her. “How much do I owe you for the oats and the food? They’re very much appreciated. Thank you, in case I forgot to say that earlier.”

Normally she would name the price and take the money, but his question gave her a way to see more of him, assess how honest he was. “You can settle up with Pa later.”

“I’ll do that.”

She rolled up the sack she’d brought the supplies in and rose. “If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Wyatt rose, too, and smiled at her. “Much obliged.”

She studied him. He had a nice smile, but it didn’t erase the dark shadows that lingered in his eyes. It was those shadows, and his reluctance to say where he and Lonnie had come from and where they were going, that made her wary of him. “Bye for now.”

He nodded. “Goodbye.”

She glanced past him to Lonnie. “Bye, Lonnie.”

The boy’s head jerked up, his lips parted, his eyes wide. “Bye.” The word squeaked from him.

Was he afraid of her? But why?

His eyes went to Wyatt, who stood with his back to his brother.

Was Lonnie afraid of his brother? That gave her cause for concern. One thing was certain. There was something not quite right with this pair, and until she knew it wasn’t anything that threatened anyone in her family—including herself—she would not be encouraging any contact. She silently prayed as she returned to the farm. God, make the truth known, clear and plain. Protect my family. May we serve You in sincerity and truth.

Rose and Lilly watched for her return. “Did you find out anything?” they asked in unison.

“Their parents are dead.” Her voice trembled. “I can’t help feeling sorry for anyone whose parents are dead.”

The girls nodded.

Cora said, “Makes us all the more grateful for being adopted by the Bells.”

“We need to tell them again,” Rose said.

The girls agreed they would be more faithful at telling their parents how much they appreciated their love.

Cora knew the twins wondered about their birth parents, but she was the only one with any recollection of them. Not that it mattered. They were now the Bell sisters.

“Did you find out where they’re going?” Rose asked.

“How did the mares look?” Lilly added.

Cora chuckled. “I could tell which one asked each question without seeing either of you. Lilly’s first concern is the animals. Rose’s is to have all the questions answered.”

The girls faced her as a pair. “Well?”

She grinned and teased them. “Well, what?”

“The mares?” Lilly prodded.

“They looked all right to me, but I honestly didn’t look very closely at them. Wyatt and his brother built a rope corral that looked fine.”

Lilly sighed long. “The mare he had here was foot weary and about ready to foal. I’m wondering how the others are.”

Cora gave a little shrug. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”

“Did they say where they were going? Or where they were from?” Rose demanded.

“No more than they told Pa.”

“Hmm.” Rose’s brows furrowed. “Why do you suppose they don’t say?”

Lilly shrugged. “Could be any number of reasons. No need to imagine some deep, dark secret.”

Rose huffed. “I’m not imagining anything. I just don’t like unanswered questions. Or unfinished business. Seems to me if a person has nothing to hide they can answer civil questions.”

Lilly gave her twin a fierce look. “Or maybe they just want to be left to themselves.”

“Girls,” Cora soothed before the pair got really involved in their differing opinions. “I’ve decided we should give the two of them a wide berth until we’re certain they pose no risk.”

“Risk to who?” Rose demanded.

“Their poor animals.” Lilly shook her head.

“A risk to us,” Cora corrected. “To you two. To Ma and Pa. They seem harmless enough, but I don’t intend to believe first impressions. Now let’s get the chores done and help Ma with supper.”

She brought in the two milk cows and milked them while Lilly fed the pigs and chickens. Rose gathered the eggs and went to help Ma.

That evening they kept busy with shelling the peas they’d picked earlier. It gave them plenty of time to talk and even more time to think.

Even without the conversation circling back to the two newcomers and their horses, Cora’s thoughts went unbidden to Wyatt sitting down by the river in his crude little camp. Hungry, orphaned and caring for a younger brother who seemed troubled, to say the least.

Or was she being like Rose and, in her search for answers, making up things that had no basis in fact?

One thing was certain. She would not let down her guard until she had some assurance that it was safe to do so.

* * *

Wyatt didn’t come to pay Pa that evening. Perhaps he’d taken the feed and victuals and moved on. In the morning, Cora slipped close enough to see that they were still there. Lonnie was brushing Fanny until her coat shone. Where was Wyatt? She looked around. Then she spotted him, headed up the hill toward the house.

She bolted to her feet and scampered back before he got there. Slightly breathless, she hurried to meet him.

“Good morning. I came to pay your pa,” he said, snatching his hat from his head. His face was slightly reddened, as if he’d scrubbed it hard in cold water. He was freshly shaven. She hadn’t noticed his well-shaped chin yesterday. His damp hair looked black.

“He’s in his work shed. I’ll take you to him.” She led the way to the weather-stained building where Pa spent many happy hours.

“Pa,” she called. “Mr. Williams has come to pay for the oats and the food I took him last night.”

Pa’s head poked around a cupboard. “Can’t you take care of it?”

“Not this time, Pa.”

He considered her a moment, seemed to understand she had her reasons and emerged. “So what did you take him?”

She told him. “I’ll leave you to it.” She backed away and ducked around the corner of the building to listen. Perhaps she’d see his true character in how he treated Pa. To many, her pa appeared a crippled old man. But he had his wits about him and saw far more than most realized.

Pa named a sum and coins rattled as Wyatt paid the amount.

But Wyatt didn’t move away.

“What do you think of this?” Pa asked and Cora knew he wanted Wyatt to look at his latest invention.

“Interesting. What is it?” Wyatt sounded sincere.

“I’m trying to figure out how to hoe four rows at once.”

Cora smiled. Pa was always experimenting and inventing. Some things turned out well, others not so well, but like Pa said, you had to try and fail before you could succeed.

“I’m not sure I’ve got the angle of the hoes just right. Could you hold it so I can check?”

Wyatt’s boots clumped on the wooden floor as he moved to help Pa. “It’s a mite heavy,” Wyatt said.

“Do you think it’s too heavy for the girls? Bear in mind they’re good strong girls.”

Wyatt grunted a time or two. “Seems as if it would be a big load, especially if they’re supposed to pull it through the soil.”

“You could be right. Maybe if I shape the hoes to a point?”

“Might work.”

A thump, rattle and several grunts came from the shed.

Cora edged around the corner so she could see what they were doing.

They’d turned the hoe over on its back and Wyatt squatted next to Pa. “Maybe like this?” He indicated with his finger.

“That might do it.”

“You maybe should get some metal ones. They’d cut through the soil better.”

Pa gave Wyatt an approving smile. “Yup. Figured to do that once I get the working model figured out.” He rubbed his crippled leg. “Sure can’t move about the way I used to.”

Cora saw Pa’s considering look. She didn’t want him to get it in his head that he’d return to work on the barn. He was getting too old and had already had one fall. No, she’d do it by herself before she’d let that happen. She sprang forward.

“Pa—oh, hi, Wyatt. Did you two sort out the payment?”

“Sure did.”

Pa turned back to his hoe. “I’m going to try that.”

Wyatt patted Pa’s back. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need help with it. Or anything.”

“Maybe you’d like a tour of the place.” Now, why had she offered that? She didn’t have time for a social visit. Not with beans to pick and potatoes to hill and hay to cut and stack. She could be three people, and the twins could be doubled, and the work would never end. Which, she supposed, about described the lot of most farmers. But having offered, she had little choice but to show the stranger around and learn more about him.

One way or another.

Chapter Three

Wyatt would enjoy seeing more of this tidy little farm. He didn’t mind the company, either. The young woman’s chatter was a pleasant change from Lonnie’s dour complaints about having to stay in one place. No amount of explaining about the necessity of stopping for Fanny’s sake satisfied him. Wyatt had been grateful to leave the boy cleaning up the campsite after breakfast.

He and Cora fell in, side by side. The lop-eared dog trotted alongside them. He tripped over himself and skidded into the ground.

Wyatt chuckled. “What kind of dog do you call that?”

“He doesn’t mind what we call him, so long as we don’t call him late for supper.”

Wyatt laughed. She sure did have a way of easing his mind.

As they walked beside the garden, Cora explained that they grew enough to supply their own needs and sell to others. But she stopped when they reached an overgrown patch of wild plants.

“We don’t ever touch that,” Cora said. “It’s Ma’s healing plants. She is the only one who can tell which ones are good and which are weeds. To me, they all look like weeds. She lets them grow wild and untamed. I’ve suggested she should tidy them to rows so we can clean up the patch.” Cora sighed. “By her reaction, you’d think I’d told her I planned to plow it under. So it stays that way.”

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?”

“Likely. But I still had the fun of making it and seeing her rock in it.”

Lonnie stared at the fire.

Wyatt waited, hoping he would say something more. When he didn’t, Wyatt returned to Lonnie’s original question. “The Bells have been hospitable to us. Mr. Bell is finding it hard to get around, and the womenfolk shouldn’t be trying to build a barn on their own. So maybe God brought us here to help them.”

“God don’t care where we go or what we do.” Those few words carried a whole world of misery that Wyatt would erase if it was possible, but he knew it wasn’t. He could only pray Lonnie would find his way to trust. Not only trust God but trust people.

“I guess I have to believe otherwise or life looks mighty uninviting.”

Lonnie’s only reply was to sag over his knees.

“Supper’s ready. Hold out your plate.”

Lonnie did so and ate in a distracted way.

Wyatt waited, hoping his brother would open up and say what he was thinking.

Lonnie finally spoke. “Did you see the pigs?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They sure are cute, aren’t they?” Lonnie’s eyes lit with joy in a way Wyatt hadn’t seen in a long time.

“How about we have pigs on our new farm?”

Lonnie nodded, a genuine smile on his face. “I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” If it made his brother smile like that he’d raise a hundred pigs. “I asked Cora to go for a walk with me this evening.”

Lonnie bolted to his feet. “You’re going to court her? What’s gonna happen to me? Nobody will want a young brother tagging along. You ever think of that?”

“You don’t need to worry. In the first place, I don’t think anyone is going to want a jailbird. But even if that wasn’t the case, you and I are brothers. We stick together no matter what.” As an afterthought, he added, “This isn’t courting. Just need to straighten up a few things with her.”

“Like what?”

Wyatt wasn’t about to tell him the whole reason—that Cora had grown curious about Lonnie’s odd behavior. Instead, he said, “What all she needs done so we can earn our keep.”

“Oh.” Lonnie sat down again and nodded, but the fearful look did not leave.

Wyatt squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “If it ever comes to choosing between you and someone else, I promise I’ll choose you.”

Lonnie nodded, but kept his eyes on the dying flames of the fire. “Want me to wash the dishes?”

“We’ll do them together.” He filled the basin with hot water from the fire and Lonnie grabbed a towel. The few dishes were soon done.

“What are you going to do while I see Cora?” Wyatt asked. He must talk to her but didn’t care for leaving Lonnie alone.

“Guess I’ll watch Fanny. Maybe she’ll have her foal tonight.” Worry lined his forehead. “What if she foals while you’re gone? Something might go wrong.”

“I expect she’ll be fine, so don’t worry.”

“But what if—”

“You go up and find Mr. Bell. He’ll know what to do.”

Lonnie rocked his head back and forth.

Wyatt grabbed his chin to stop the movement. “Would you let your choices hurt Fanny and her baby?” He waited as Lonnie considered the question.

“Guess I wouldn’t.”

He released Lonnie’s chin. “I knew you wouldn’t, but kind of figured you needed to know it, too.”

Lonnie snorted but a smile tugged at his lips and Wyatt knew he’d gained a small victory. He almost wished Fanny would foal while he was out walking with Cora so Lonnie would go to Mr. Bell for help. Wouldn’t that be a giant step forward for his brother?

“I’ll see you later.”

Wyatt climbed the hill and leaned against the corner post of the garden fence to wait for Cora. The scent of flowers wafted through the air on a gentle breeze. Birds sang and scolded from the trees and fence lines. Grub wandered over and flopped down at Wyatt’s feet. He scratched behind the dog’s ears and earned a moist lick of Grub’s tongue.

The dog equivalent of thanks.

Wyatt filled his lungs to capacity with the warm, sweet air. If only life could be like this always.

The screen door squawked open and Cora stepped out. She glanced around until she found him. The air between them shimmered with tension. She would demand answers. He must say only enough to satisfy her questions. At all costs, he must protect their secret.

She smiled, and the tightness in his chest eased.

He continued to lounge back as she crossed the yard toward him. All day, as they’d worked on the barn, she had worn a floppy straw hat. Now her head was bare. The sun shone on her hair, making it shine like gold. Each stride she took said she knew who she was. Moreover, she liked who she was and was confident of her place in the world.

He wished he could share that feeling.

As she approached, her smile never faltered. Her eyes said she had purpose.

He knew all too well what that purpose was. And he meant to delay the moment as long as he could. He pushed away from the fence post that had been his support for the past fifteen minutes and smiled at her. He was glad of her company despite the reason for it.

“Let’s walk,” she said.

His smile deepened. Maybe she wasn’t any more anxious for the moment of truth than he.

He fell in at her side and they made their way to the river and turned to the left to walk along the bank.

“The wildflowers are so bountiful this time of year. I love the summer flowers.” She pointed out a patch of brown-eyed Susans and bluebonnets. “There’s some balsamroot. Ma uses the root to make a tonic and cough medicine.”

Content to let her talk and simply enjoy the evening, he turned toward some flowers. “Does your ma use these for anything?”

She squatted by the patch of flowers, touching the blossoms gently. As she lifted her face to him, a smile filled her eyes. “Yes, she does.” Cora straightened. “Every year, when the brown-eyed Susans—or, as she prefers to call them, black-eyed Susans—are at their best, she fills a jug with the blossoms and puts it in the middle of the table.” She looked into the distance, the soft smile still on her lips. “And she repeats a poem about the black-eyed Susan who was a woman. Her sweet William was sailing away and she feared he would forget her. He said she would be present wherever he went. Her eyes would be seen in the diamonds they found, her breath would be sweeter than any spices and her skin prettier than any ivory. Every beautiful object he saw would remind him of his pretty Susan.” She drew in a slow breath. “It’s a lovely poem.” She shrugged. “Now you’ll think me a romantic, and I’m not.”

“What would be wrong if you were?” She’d certainly sent his mind on a lovely romantic journey. Oh, that he could promise some sweet Susan such fidelity. His heart hurt at the knowledge that the best he could offer any Susan was to protect her from sharing the shame of his past. For, although he’d done nothing wrong, he’d learned people only saw the fact that he’d spent time in jail.

She laughed, a merry little sound. “I’m Cora, the practical sister.” She turned her steps back to the riverbank. “I take care of business.”

“Because you have to or because you want to?”

She stopped dead and turned to face him squarely. “Why, both, of course.”

“You mean your sisters or your ma or pa couldn’t look after business if you didn’t?” He didn’t know why it mattered one way or the other to him, but for some reason it did. Perhaps because he felt as if she was creating a prison for herself—one with no walls or bars or guards except of her own making. And jails, real or otherwise, were not pleasant places.

She shrugged. “I suppose they could, but they don’t have to. Come this way. Shh.” She pressed her finger to her lips as she tiptoed toward a swampy area. “I like watching the baby ducklings.” She plopped down as if prepared to stay awhile.

He sank to the ground beside her. He’d been dreading this walk and the talk that was to accompany it. But sitting by the slough and watching birds was fine with him.

The mother duck had flapped the ducklings into hiding in the reeds at their approach, but as they sat quietly, the little family soon emerged and resumed looking for food.

He realized Cora had shifted her attention from the birds to him and studied him intently. Slowly he brought his gaze to hers. The moment had come, and he drew in a deep, steadying breath.

“I want to know why Lonnie is so afraid,” she said, her voice soft, as if she thought he might react the way Lonnie had.

He’d considered how to answer, had even rehearsed what he’d say, but now it didn’t feel right, so he stared at the water before them and tried to shepherd his thoughts into order.

“The reason he acted like that was because you said not all fathers are like your pa. He knows too well the truth of those words.” Wyatt slowly returned his eyes to her, wanting to see her reaction, assess her response.

Her brown eyes softened and he drew in courage at the thought that she was sympathetic.

“My father beat us regularly.” He recalled so many times being kicked or hit with something—whatever his pa could lay his hands on. One time, the old man had come after him with an ax. It had been one of the few times Wyatt had defended himself.

She touched the back of his hand. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Poor Lonnie. No wonder he shrinks back when someone gets too close.”

Wyatt nodded. The pressure of her fingers on his skin unwound a tightness behind his heart. “The worst part was not knowing what Lonnie endured the last year of Pa’s life.”

The movement of her fingers stilled. Slowly she withdrew her hand.

He tried to think what he’d said to make her pull away and look at him as if he’d admitted to some terrible behavior.

“Where were you that you didn’t know?”

He resisted an urge to thump his forehead. He’d opened the door a crack and she meant to walk right through.

“I had to be away.”

“You left him?” Her shock echoed through his head. Every day he’d prayed that Lonnie would be safe. In fact, it was in prison that he’d learned to pray and been forced to trust God, simply because there was nothing else he could do.

“I had no choice,” he murmured.

She shook her head and turned to stare ahead. “I would never abandon my sisters.”

“Sometimes you don’t have any alternative.” Misery edged each word, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps she didn’t care.

“I can’t imagine any reason strong enough except death.” The look she gave him seemed to point out that he was very much alive, so he couldn’t claim that excuse.

His eyebrows went up. She had laid down a challenge—give me a good reason or face my censure.

He could not give her a good reason. That secret remained locked up for Lonnie’s protection as well as his own.

She jumped to her feet. “I’d better get back before Pa comes looking for me.”

He rose more slowly, aching with disappointment, though why it should be so he would have to reason out at a later date. He only knew he wished their time together could have ended differently. He touched the spot on the back of his hand where her fingers had rubbed.

Then he flung his hands apart. Bad enough to be condemned for supposedly abandoning his brother. Think how much worse it would be if she learned he’d been in jail.

No woman would ever touch him in a gentle, accepting way once the truth was discovered. It hadn’t taken many days of freedom to learn this truth. People crossed the street to avoid him. Fathers and mothers dragged their daughters away as if a mere glance at him would ruin them for life. And discovery was always a possibility no matter how far he and Lonnie went. Nor had he forgotten the threat of one Jimmy Stone. Jimmy knew where they lived. He’d made a point of reminding Wyatt of the fact when Wyatt had got out of prison. Wyatt didn’t doubt the man’s intention to get revenge. He wasn’t even that surprised when he heard a man fitting Jimmy’s description had been asking about him. If Jimmy meant to find him, he would, unless they could outrun him. They had to move on as soon as possible to escape their past.

Wyatt had even considered changing their names but drew a line there. He was Wyatt Williams and he’d live and die with that name.

* * *

Cora steamed away. How could Wyatt have left Lonnie, knowing full well the abuse he would suffer? Had he done it to escape his father’s wrath? He claimed he’d had no choice. She snorted. A person always had a choice. Some chose to fulfill their responsibilities. Some chose to abandon them.

All her life she’d lived with not knowing why their papa, as she always referred to the man who had been their father, had walked away from them. She couldn’t even remember their last name. Not that it mattered at all.

What mattered to Cora was that a man had shirked his role as a father. For whatever reason. No doubt he would also say he didn’t have a choice, but she couldn’t believe there was any good reason to abandon three little girls in the middle of the prairie. They would surely have perished if Ma hadn’t been out looking for her medicinal plants and found them.

The twins had quickly responded to her hugs and kisses and the food she’d shared with them from her satchel. Cora had been more guarded. Her papa’s promise to return had sustained her the two days and a night of fear.

Ma had asked a few questions—enough to know Cora’s papa wasn’t coming back.

Agitated by the memories, Cora spun to confront Wyatt, who had followed her. “There is no good reason for abandoning family. Ever.”

“You certainly have very strong opinions about it. But how can you possibly understand? You enjoy your parents’ love and have two sisters to share it with. You simply couldn’t begin to understand.”

“Oh, I understand far better than you think.” She stomped three more paces. She would not blurt out the words on the tip of her tongue, but she knew exactly how it felt to be left behind, and no excuse in this world or the next would be enough. She might just tell him that. She turned again. A hornet flew in her face and she brushed it away. It didn’t leave but stung her on the cheek.

“Ouch.”

Others buzzed around her, a swarm of angry hornets bent on attack. She swatted at them, shook her skirts to discourage them and stepped backward. Her heel caught on a clod of dirt and she fell down hard, smacking her head on the ground.

The hornets buzzed about her, stinging her hands and face.

Wyatt scooped her up and raced for the river. “What are you doing?” She hung on as he jostled her.

They reached the edge of the water and he set her down. “You were standing on their underground nest.” He pushed aside her hair to examine her stings, pulled up her hands to look at the exposed skin. “You were fortunate. Only six stings. Sit here.” He scooped up some river mud and returned to her side. “This is the best way to stop the pain. Close your eyes.”

She did so. There was no denying the stings hurt. He held her chin as he plastered mud on the three on her face.

Her face grew warm. Surely he would put it down to the aftereffects of the stings, not to the sharp awareness of how gently he spread the mud, how firm his cool fingers were on her chin. Yet she felt no fear. He would not hurt her. How could she possibly know that? Hadn’t she learned not to trust so easily? But none of her lessons applied to Wyatt. Or was she blindly ignoring what her head told her?

He released her chin and picked up her hand.

She quietly drew in a calming breath and watched him apply mud to the backs of her hands. “You must have had a good mother.” The words came out of their own accord.

She waited, wondering how he’d respond.

He shook the rest of the mud from his hands and wiped them on the grass, then he raised his gaze to hers.

“I did. But how do you know?” His eyes were almost black as she looked at him, silhouetted against the bright sky behind his head.

“Because you have a gentle touch.” Again, she spoke the truth from her heart without any thought to how he would react.

His gaze held hers, unblinking and as dark as a starless midnight.

She held her breath, waiting for him to speak or shrug or somehow indicate he’d heard and maybe even show what he thought about her words.

He laughed.

She stared. Of all the reactions he might have had, this was the most unexpected. “Why is that funny?”

He stood to his full height and grinned down at her. “Here I was thinking you would find me rough. After all, you have a mother and sisters who would normally tend your needs. I kept expecting you to tell me I was a big oaf.” He laughed again. “A gentle touch, you say. I will never forget that.”

He squatted in front of her. “How is your head? You took quite a fall.”

Her head buzzed from the swirling confusion of her thoughts. Not from hitting the ground.

“I’m fine.” She pushed to her feet. “What about you? Didn’t you get stung?”

He shifted his gaze to a spot over her shoulder. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Really? And yet you drag me over here and plaster mud on each bite?” She tried to sound teasing, but her voice caught with an overwhelming sense of tenderness. “Let me see.” She grabbed his chin just as he’d done with her and felt him stiffen. He wasn’t a lot different from his brother. Afraid of touches. Expecting them to be cruel. If he stayed here long he’d learn otherwise. Ma and Pa were the gentlest pair ever.

She saw no sign of stings on his face but detected three on his neck below his ear. “You have been stung. I’ll get some mud.” But when she tried to stand, he shook his head.

“There’s some here.” He pointed toward a clump that had fallen from his hands.

She loaded her finger with some and applied it to his bites. Beneath her fingertip his muscles knotted. She ignored his tension. Being this close gave her plenty of chance to study him more closely. Tiny white lines, from squinting in the sunshine, fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His black whiskers roughened suntanned skin.

When the stings were well bathed in mud, she wiped her fingers in the grass.

She turned her eyes toward him. His gaze jerked away as if uncomfortable with all the touching of the past few minutes, even though it had been impersonal for both them. Hadn’t it?

Swallowing hard, she put eight more inches between them.

“Are you feeling up to walking home?” he asked.

His tender look caused her throat to tighten. Then some little imp made her press the back of her arm to her forehead dramatically and wobble slightly.

His arm came around her shoulders and steadied her.

“Do you think you could carry me all the way?” She managed to make her voice quaver.

“I think I’ll go get my horse.”

She laughed. “I’ll walk. I’m fine.”

He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “I figured you were.”

They gave the area of the hornet’s nest a wide berth.

“I’ll be sure to tell the others its location.” She surely didn’t want anyone else to be attacked. Though, on second thought, if Ebner or some other troublemaking Caldwell cowboy got a sting or two, it sounded like justice to her.

As they neared home, she slowed her steps. “Wyatt, why would you leave Lonnie with your pa, knowing what he was like? I need to understand. I want to understand.”

He stopped, faced her squarely. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more. I had to, and that’s all I can say.”

She sighed. It wasn’t enough and yet she couldn’t believe his reasons had been selfish. Or was she letting his taking care of her for a few minutes erase her sense of caution?

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