Would the day ever come when she could speak of her dead husband and not feel that twinge of pain, not want to withdraw from the world? God willing, she hoped so.
Hugh was beginning to hate Angus Grace, the dead man who’d left behind a legacy of pain in his widow’s eyes. The man who’d kept his wife away from town. The man who hadn’t wanted her to read books. She might not have spent years behind bars, as Hugh had, but he suspected she’d been imprisoned all the same. And an innocent prisoner to boot. He knew something about that particular agony.
Abruptly, Julia stood, her hands brushing her riding skirt. “We’d best go. We need to cover a good piece before sunset.”
He was sorry the respite was over. There was more he would have liked to ask.
A short while later, the cattle were on the move again. Dust rose in a cloud above the trail. Even though Hugh and Julia rode at the sides of the herd, it was impossible not to be covered in a layer of dirt. He tasted grit on his tongue and felt it in his eyes. He found himself wishing the storm had caught up with them after all. Could a good drenching be any worse than choking on dust? And if it was this bad with a small herd, what must the large cattle drives of twenty and thirty years ago — with a hundred times more cattle and lasting for 2,500 miles — have been like? He shuddered to think.
“Ho, there. Ho!”
Through the dust cloud, he saw Julia turn her horse out and bring back a couple of strays. She was a strong, independent, determined woman. He suspected she’d had plenty of heartache, but she hadn’t let it defeat her. She didn’t need his help beyond this drive.
But if he could help her … if there was a chance that she might ever want —
No. He couldn’t and she wouldn’t. Better to let it end there.
They stopped at dusk at the mouth of a narrow draw. Dinner was beans warmed over a fire. After they were done, Julia slipped away to the creek that ran nearby and did her best to wash away the dirt of the trail from her face and hair. She would have liked to bathe all over, but the water was too cold for that. A bath would have to wait until they were home again. After toweling dry her hair, she wove it
into a damp braid before returning to the campfire. Hugh sat with his side toward the flames, reading his Bible in the flickering light.
“My mother always said I’d ruin my eyes, reading in such poor light.”
He closed the cover of the book and looked in her direction. “Mine used to say the same.”
“I miss her,” she whispered, not meaning to say it aloud, not meaning for him to hear.
“She’s still in Idaho.” He shrugged. “The envelope. Remember? The post mistress told me who the letter was for.”
“Of course she did.”
“Was it a secret?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s just … it’s just that my mother hasn’t written to me in a long while. We had a … a falling out.”
“I’m sorry, Julia. I know how that hurts.”
His soft response soothed something inside of her. She believed him. The tenderness in his gaze almost overwhelmed her. She wanted … something. Something she shouldn’t want.
Hugh cleared his throat. “Shall I take the first watch?”
Good heavens! She’d forgotten the cattle, forgotten there was a need to keep watch.
He got to his feet. “I’ll wake you in a few hours. Better get some sleep.”
Julia watched as he strode to his horse and swung into the saddle. It was a moonless night, and Hugh didn’t have to ride his gelding far to disappear from view. When she could no longer hear the rocks crunching beneath the horse’s hooves, she lay on her bedroll, pulled the blanket to her chin, and rolled onto her side, her back to the fire. Before she was settled, Bandit joined her, turning in a slow circle, as if making a nest, then laying down with a grunt.
“You worked hard today.” She reached out to stroke his head. “You’re a good boy.”
The dog responded by closing his eyes.
Julia did the same, and immediately she pictured Hugh as he’d been a short while before, reading his Bible in the firelight. A sense of security, of rightness, perhaps even of hope stole into her heart, and in no time at all, she was fast asleep.
The fire had burned low by the time Hugh returned to camp. A look at his watch by the failing light showed he’d been with the herd for close to five hours. He wished he could let Julia sleep until first light, but he needed a few hours of shut-eye himself.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily after he gently shook her shoulder.
“Almost three.” He straightened and moved a few steps away.
She groaned as she sat up. “You should have woke me before this.” In the pale light of the remaining fire, he saw her stretch her arms above her head.
“It’s a quiet night. Nothing’s stirring.”
“Good.” She stood and stretched again.
A longing hit Hugh, so strong it almost paralyzed him. He’d wanted to help her before. He’d wanted to protect her before. He’d even wanted to embrace her and kiss her before. But this feeling was different. Now he wanted … more. He wanted to promise her the sun and the moon and the stars. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to make her dance for joy. It took his breath away, the wanting, and he was thankful for the darkness so that she wouldn’t see it in his eyes.
She moved away from her bedroll. Although Hugh couldn’t see her clearly, he was aware of her movements as she saddled and
bridled Teddy, and he heard the creak of leather as she swung into the saddle.
“Better get some rest,” she said before riding off.
He lay down, but sleep evaded him. All he could think about was Julia and the yearning he felt for her. It wasn’t lust, wasn’t merely a man’s desire to possess a woman’s body. He knew that physical reaction, knew how to control it rather than being controlled by it. No, this was something different, something rare and fine.
His mind wanted to put a name to the emotion, but he wouldn’t allow it. He was a former convict. He’d spent years in prison, surrounded by men who’d done unimaginable things to innocent people. Hugh hadn’t been guilty of the charges that placed him in that penitentiary, but he’d been changed for the worst by the experience. Did he think he could walk away from his incarceration without being tainted by those years within its walls? Yes, Christ’s blood had washed away his sin, but it didn’t undo his past, didn’t make him a fit man for a woman like Julia Grace. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the thoughts, willing away the feelings that he had no right to feel.
She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know what I am
.
He’d had a chance to tell her the truth when they went to the river for Sunday worship, but something had kept him silent. Perhaps it was God Himself.
And it made no difference whether she knew or not. He had nothing to offer any woman, let alone what he would want to give to Julia.
The rain they’d escaped the previous day started falling before noon. With it came the wind and dropping temperatures.
Julia and Hugh donned slickers, but water still found its way down their necks, making them cold and miserable. Too miserable to stop to eat their noon meal, so they pressed on toward their destination, determined to reach the Double T Ranch before nightfall.
Years ago, Timothy Trent, owner of the Double T, had built a number of holding pens near the railroad tracks that cut through the length of Wyoming. It was there his cattle waited to be shipped to buyers in Cheyenne, and it was there the small herd from Sage-hen would spend this night. Angus and Timothy had worked out an arrangement that benefited them both — Timothy would pay cash for the cattle at fair value, keeping back a little profit for himself, and then ship them to market with his own herd. Julia was thankful the rancher had been willing to continue the practice after her husband’s death.
Several times during the afternoon, Hugh dropped back from the herd, as if looking for something. Or waiting for something. But what? It was gray and gloomy. Julia couldn’t see even a quarter mile in any direction. When Hugh caught up again with the herd after the third such time, she asked him what he was doing.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it sounds strange, but I’ve got a feeling someone’s been following us today.”
“Following us?” She twisted in the saddle and looked back into the murkiness. “If someone’s there, he’d be wise to make himself known. If you skulk about in these parts, you’re likely to get yourself shot.”
“Maybe skulking is the point. Whoever it is might not want to be seen or known.” Rainwater ran off the brim of Hugh’s hat as he tipped his head in her direction. “This isn’t the first time I’ve suspected something amiss. There was that day I thought something was bothering the cows. Maybe it was the same person who cut the fence.”
Maybe it was the same person who encouraged the land board to raise the taxes
, Julia thought, remembering that Rose believed Charlie had something to do with it. But that stretched the limits of credulity. Didn’t it?
“Your brother-in-law’s made it clear he wants you to sell to him,” Hugh added, as if reading her thoughts. “Remember, he said he’s coming to see you again after you’re back from the drive.”
“I remember.”
“Maybe he’s looking for a way to force you to sell. He seems to know you’re struggling to keep your head above water.”
She didn’t like Charlie Prescott. That was true. But that was because he was Angus’s half-brother. He was ambitious. He was determined. He was already the wealthiest man in the county. Yet none of that gave her reason to suspect him of trouble-making.
“Julia, I know something about men like Prescott. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
“You don’t know him. You’ve seen him, what? Twice? You’re starting to sound like Rose. She doesn’t trust him either.”
“Then maybe you should pay heed to what your friend is telling you even if you don’t want to listen to me.”
She looked at Hugh a moment longer, then kicked Teddy in the sides and moved forward.
They arrived at the Double T holding pens just as the rain finally let up. It didn’t take long to get the cattle into a couple of the enclosures. Once that was done, Julia and Hugh rode north toward the ranch house.
Victoria Trent, Timothy’s wife, was the one who answered Julia’s knock. “Gracious sakes alive!” she exclaimed. “Julia Grace, is that you? You look half drowned.”
“At least half.”
Victoria grinned. “Come in. Come in.” Her gaze flicked to Hugh. “The both of you. Was Timothy expecting you this week? He didn’t say a word to me.”
“I think so. Isn’t he here?”
“No. He’s gone to Denver and won’t be back until Saturday or Sunday. It must have slipped his mind that you’d be bringing the cattle this week.”
Saturday or Sunday? She couldn’t wait that long before she returned to Sage-hen. She was already asking too much of Peter. But she needed to return home with the money from the sale.
“Don’t you worry,” Victoria said. “I can buy your cattle as easy as Timothy does.”
“I’m sorry to take you by surprise.”
“Not a bother. Now we’d better get the two of you into some warm, dry clothes. I reckon everything in your rolls is as wet as you are.”
Embarrassed, Julia lowered her gaze and saw a puddle was forming around her feet. “I’m afraid we’re making a mess.”
“Don’t give it a thought. You think worse things haven’t been tracked across the floors of this house? Come on. You too, mister.”
She felt another stab of embarrassment. “This is Hugh Brennan. He helped me bring down the herd.”
“How do, Mr. Brennan.”
“Ma’am.”
“Just the two of you?” Victoria’s eyes returned to Julia.
“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the porch where Bandit sat, waiting for her next command. “And my dog.”
“I’ll see that he gets something to eat in a bit. For now, you both come with me.” Victoria turned and motioned with her hand for them to follow.
In only a few minutes, Julia found herself alone in a bedroom with towels and some borrowed clothes. She didn’t waste time getting into them. As the lady of the house was a larger woman, the undergarments were loose on Julia and the dress too long, but she didn’t care. She was thankful to be out of her wet things. She was even more thankful when she returned to the main room in the house to find a fire had been started in the fireplace. Hugh was already standing near it.
“There’s stew heating up on the stove,” Victoria said when she saw Julia. “It won’t be long. We’ll get you two warmed up, inside and out.”
“I didn’t expect to put you to all this trouble, Mrs. Trent. We should —”
Victoria laughed. “Gracious sakes alive. You don’t know how much I get to hankering for female company. I’m glad to have you here. Glad we can get better acquainted. We barely got introduced last year before you were headed back to that place of yours.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’d best stop apologizing right now.” She pointed to a chair near the fireplace. “Sit yourself down.”
Julia nodded and sank obediently onto the indicated chair.
“You too, Mr. Brennan.”
“I’d better take care of the horses first and make sure Bandit’s okay,” he said.
“No need.” Victoria sat on the sofa. “While you were changing, I had one of the boys take your horses and the dog to the barn. They’ve got plenty of food and water.”
“That was good of you, ma’am.”
“Not at all. Like I said, I’m delighted to have some female company.” Victoria looked at Julia again. “Now tell me, how are you managing on your own? I thought about you more than once over the winter, wondering how you were getting along. This isn’t an easy country for a woman who’s lost her husband.”
Julia gave a slight shrug. “I’ve managed well enough.” True words, if one didn’t count the higher taxes on her land.
“Last year when we met, I told Timothy that you were such a slight thing, I was afraid a good wind would just pick you up and blow you away. You looked so pale in your widow’s weeds.” The older woman’s tender look was almost as warming as the fire. “But look at you now. I can see you are much recovered from losing Mr. Grace.”