Julia stood and brushed off the straw clinging to her skirt. “We should start bringing the cattle up closer to the house. Then I can separate the ones going to market from the others. We can get started as soon as we’re done with breakfast.”
“I’ll get the horses saddled.”
She nodded, then walked out of the stall.
Nine days wasn’t long enough. Not nearly long enough.
Julia had planned to send Hugh one direction while she went another. That way, they could cover more ground and round up more cattle in a shorter amount of time. But after they mounted their horses, Julia found herself reluctant to ride off on her own. No, that wasn’t quite true. It was more a wanting to be
with
Hugh.
They loped their horses east, then turned them north when the barbed-wire fence that followed her property line came into view. Another ten minutes, and Hugh drew in on the reins. Julia slowed her horse too but didn’t know why. She couldn’t see any cattle.
“Look,” Hugh said, pointing. “Up there. A section of fence is down.”
She followed the direction of his outstretched arm with her eyes, nudging Teddy forward even before she found the problem: barbed wire curled in upon itself between two fence posts. All three strands, broken in the same spot. Even before they got close, she knew this was no accident. The wire had been cut. When they reached the spot, her gaze dropped to the ground. She saw some evidence of the presence of horses but no sign that a large number of cattle had passed through the opening.
“Looks like somebody meant for you to lose some cattle,” Hugh said, echoing her thoughts.
“I don’t think they got any. The ground doesn’t seem to be disturbed.”
“Whose property is that?”
“The state owns it.” She looked at Hugh. “Let’s find where the cows are grazing and get them moved up to the ranch house.”
As she nudged Teddy with her heels, Rose’s voice whispered in her head, “You don’t suppose Charlie Prescott had anything to do with this, do you?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the cut wire. Charlie had no reason to steal her cattle or to want them to wander away. Did he?
“He is more like his half-brother than you realize.”
Could Rose be right about Charlie? But Julia had no reason to doubt him. He’d never done her any harm. Wasn’t judging others wrong? Especially if she painted him with Angus’s brush simply because of appearances.
She looked forward again and asked her gelding for more speed. She wouldn’t be able to relax again until she’d counted her cows and calves and made certain all were where they belonged.
Small as Sage-hen Ranch was — by Wyoming standards, at least — it still took the better part of the day before Hugh and Julia drove the last of the cattle toward the house. Once there, she sent him to repair the downed fence while she culled the herd. By the time Hugh returned, Julia had managed to separate the cows headed for market from those who would remain on the ranch.
“And the count?” Hugh asked as he began to unsaddle his horse.
“None lost.”
“Then my guess is, whoever cut that fence saw us coming and hightailed it into the trees. They didn’t have time to steal any of the herd today, but they might try again.”
“In all my years on Sage-hen, this is the first time anybody’s tampered with the fence or tried to steal the cows. Why now?”
Hugh turned to look at Julia. “You’re a woman. Maybe someone thinks that makes you easy pickings.”
“Well, I’m not.” She stiffened her back and jutted out her chin.
He couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “I like your courage, Julia Grace. Most men I know don’t have your fire and spunk.” He wasn’t sure how he’d expected her to respond, but it hadn’t been the blush that rose in her cheeks.
Something new blossomed inside of him. Not just a need to protect her, to help her. He wanted more. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to look up into his eyes and see him as a man, as a
good
man. He wanted her to open her heart to him. He wanted to —
Her eyes widened and her face paled. “I … I’d best get us something to eat. Afraid we’ll have to make do with cold meat and bread.”
“Whatever you fix is fine with me.”
She left the barn.
More truthfully, she fled the barn. She fled him. She’d seen the desire in his eyes and had run from him. Could he blame her? Even not knowing the whole truth about him, she had to discern the type of man he’d been, the way he’d lived his life. He wasn’t worthy of a woman like her. Jesus had washed him white as snow, but he would still never be good enough for Julia. The past would follow him wherever he went, dragged along like a ball and chain. That was just the way this world was.
He finished tending to the horses and the rest of the livestock, then went to the pump and washed up as best he could before walking to the house. Julia waited for him in the kitchen. She too had washed and changed. She reminded him of a delicate flower blooming in a stark landscape. He longed to draw close and breathe in her beauty, a beauty that was much more than physical. He couldn’t, of course, but he wished he could.
Julia motioned to the table, set with a platter holding cold roast beef and slices of cheese and another platter of day-old bread. “You must be starved. It’s a long time since we ate our sandwiches.”
Yes, he was hungry. But for much more than the food laid out before him. He was hungry for the kind of goodness Julia represented, a goodness he would never have and never deserve. Anger surged through Hugh, hot and unexpected. Anger toward his dad, who had made him a thief and then let him, the son, go to prison for a crime committed by the father. The rage nearly paralyzed him and made him feel even less worthy to sit down at this good woman’s supper table than he’d felt already.
“Hugh?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. More tired than I thought.” He pulled out a chair for her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He sat opposite her and waited for her to bless the food, thankful she didn’t ask him to do it as she had in the past. They ate in silence. Hugh supposed Julia was too weary to talk. For himself, his mind was too troubled to attempt chitchat.
Lord … how do I calm my thoughts? How do I forgive, once and for all?
He looked up from his supper plate. “Could I go with you in the morning?”
“With me?”
Where the idea had come from, he couldn’t say. Maybe it had come from God in answer to his prayer. “To your place of worship.”
He had asked too much. He could see, in her eyes and in the set of her mouth, that she wanted to refuse him. And yet, when she answered, it was with the grace he had come to expect from her. “Yes. You may come with me.”
On Sunday morning, with Bandit leading the way, Julia and Hugh rode out together. Her horse didn’t need her to guide him. Teddy had carried her to this place by the river many times over the years, and he always seemed to sense when that was their destination.
Neither of them spoke during the short ride. But when they arrived at the bend of the river and Julia drew back on the reins, Hugh broke the silence. “I see why you like to come here to worship.”
Pleasure warmed her heart. Yesterday she’d feared bringing him with her because of all that it meant to her. It was her private sanctuary, a place of intimacy with God, a sacred place. But an unexpected joy welled inside her, to share this special place with someone who could understand, even just a little, what she felt when she came here. Most assuredly Angus wouldn’t have understood. Her husband, who had profaned the name of God and mocked her faith, would never have belonged.
Hugh dismounted. Leaving the horse’s reins to trail the ground, he walked to the riverbank and stared north. Julia watched him for a short while, then slipped from the saddle, untied the blanket, and spread it on the rock. By the time Hugh turned around, she was settled on it with her Bible open on her lap.
He gave her a tentative smile as he returned to where she sat. “Are you sorry you brought me?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause I can go if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to go.” As the answer left her mouth, she feared it might mean something more than just this day and this place. She lowered her eyes quickly to the open book, not wanting Hugh to guess her thoughts.
In silence, he got his own Bible from the saddle bag and joined her on the blanket, keeping a respectable distance.
Not knowing what else to do, she closed her eyes and began to bless the Lord with words from the Psalms, as was her usual practice. “Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent greatness.”
Hugh’s voice joined hers. “Praise him with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp. Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs.”
Looking at the man opposite her, Julia stopped speaking in order to hear him more clearly.
“Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals. Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord.” Hugh opened his eyes.
Something softened in her heart as their gazes met and held.
“Psalm 150,” he said. “I like that one.”
“You’ve memorized a lot of Scripture in a short time.”
He shrugged. “It’s a gift, I guess. I remember the things I read. Always have. Been that way since I was a kid.” Another small smile curved the corners of his mouth. “I can still quote lines from the storybooks I used to read to my sisters when they were little.”
“Your sisters were lucky. I had no one to read to me when I
was a child.” Something about the way he looked at her — a gentle caring, a lack of judgment — caused her to continue. “I was an only child and my mother … worked a lot.” She felt embarrassment warming her cheeks. “She wasn’t home when I went to bed.” Could he see through her carefully chosen words to the sordid truth beyond? What would he think of her if he knew she had no earthly father? Would the way he looked at her change?
“Want to hear one of those children stories?” Hugh asked softly.
Her heart fluttered, and she found she couldn’t answer as tears sprang to her eyes.
If he noticed, he didn’t let on. “Let’s see. Which one did my sisters like best? Ah, yes. I remember.” He cleared his throat and schooled his face into a grave expression.
“Croak!” said the toad,
“I’m hungry, I think;
Today I’ve had nothing
To eat or to drink.
I’ll crawl to a garden
And jump through the pales,
And there I’ll dine nicely
On slugs and on snails.”
“Ho, ho!” quoth the frog,
“Is that what you mean?
Then I’ll hop away to
The next meadow stream;
There I will drink, and
Eat worms and slugs too,
And then I shall have a
Good dinner like you.”
As Hugh finished the rhyme, he waved his hand in the air with a flourish, then bowed at the waist.
It was all so unexpected, she couldn’t help but laugh.
He gave her one of his crooked grins.
Covering her mouth with her hand, she wondered how they had transitioned so quickly from praising God with a psalm to amusement over a children’s rhyme about toads and frogs. They had come to this place by the river for church. Was it sacrilege to laugh and be silly? Even as the question drifted into her thoughts, a gust of wind caused the trees to dance, and she would swear she heard God laughing too.
That’s how it was supposed to be. Wasn’t it? A father laughing over his children, enjoying them. God delighted in her as His daughter. She forgot that so easily. She felt unloved too often. Ashamed of how she’d come to be. Perhaps she forgot because she’d had too few examples in her life of men who were loving and caring. Too few father figures. Reverend Adair had been one of those few. Peter Collins was another.
And perhaps Hugh Brennan?
No, she didn’t think of him as a father figure. Her feelings for him were … much more complicated.
Her amusement faded away.
Hugh saw the laughter leave Julia’s eyes. He wanted to bring it back but didn’t know how. Not for the first time, the temptation to hold her and kiss her swept over him.
“What sort of man was your father?” she asked into the awkward silence.
Her question caught him unawares. How to answer without revealing more than he wanted? He’d told her bits and pieces of
his past. She didn’t know of his conviction and imprisonment. He would like to leave it that way. He’d like to move on without her knowing the worst about him. Was that wrong? Could it matter since he was leaving Sage-hen, never to see her again? And yet, the way she looked at him now, it made him want to answer her question.
“He liked his liquor,” he said at last.
Her mouth formed a silent
oh
, and something about her expression told him she understood more than he thought she might.
“His name was Sweeney. Sweeney Brennan. Like I said before, he wasn’t around much.” He released a mirthless chuckle. “Often enough to sire three children, but not much more than that. Our mum took in washing and mending. She did whatever she could to put food on the table for me and my sisters, and she got old long before her time. She took sick and died when I was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry, Hugh.”
He shrugged. “I never expected to see our dad again, but when he learned we’d been placed out by the orphanage run by Dr. Cray, he came looking for me and took me back to Chicago.”
Even at thirteen, Hugh should have known his dad hadn’t come for him out of fatherly devotion. Perhaps he had known, deep down in a secret place in his heart, but he’d pretended otherwise. He’d wanted to be with his father, even as Sweeney taught him how to pick pockets and slip into the homes of the wealthy through partially open windows, even as he’d taught him how to tell the difference between worthless trinkets and jewelry that was valuable. Things he knew his mum would disapprove of had she been alive. Hugh had done plenty of bad things, illegal things, during those five years with his father. He’d stolen from the rich and from the not so rich. But he’d never physically hurt anyone. He’d never pulled a knife and stuck it into a man’s back.