Linda Ford (12 page)

They laughed about something. He imagined the two of them working side by side and smiled. They liked doing things together.

That gave him an idea.

He would work on the doll only when they were with him as they had been this morning. And he’d invent other things to do together.

He studied the toy. The head was taking shape nicely. Soon Belle would have her doll to play with and then he’d start another project. He considered the options.

“Ward,” Belle called from the doorway. “I made biscuits. Red says come and taste them.”

He closed his knife and stuck it in his pocket. Blew the bits of shavings from the doll and strode toward the house.

Belle waited at the door. “Can I see her?”

He gave her the doll. “You can play with it until I come back tomorrow to work on it some more.”

“I can?” Her eyes glistened. She hurried to the corner where her rocks and pieces of wood were arranged, laid her doll down and started whispering to it.

Ward shifted his gaze to Red, saw her struggle with joy for her little sister’s pleasure and her ever-constant caution.

He edged closer. “It’s a long way from done but she sees the possibilities.”

Red’s eyes flared like green flames. “A person can be waylaid by the thought of possibilities.”

He considered her words. “I get the idea we aren’t talking about dolls.”

“You sure are astute.”

He chuckled.

She scowled.

“I know you’re hoping to drive me away with your sarcasm but be warned, it’s failing miserably. Red, I like you when you’re feisty.”

She looked about ready to spontaneously ignite. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

That brought a chuckle to his lips. “Or it could be I do.”

She jerked her attention from him. Her gaze darted about the room as if not quite knowing how to ignore him. It settled on the plate of biscuits in the middle of the table. “Belle, do you still want to serve tea?”

Ward leaned close to whisper, “Do I hear a broad hint in your voice? Like maybe you’d be relieved if she’d changed her mind so you could suggest I be on my way?”

Her look might have scorched him if he wasn’t too busy grinning.

“I haven’t changed my mind.” Speaking louder, he turned to Belle. “Those are delicious-looking biscuits.”

Belle tucked her doll under her arm and trotted to the table. “You like them with syrup?”

“It’s all we’ve got,” Red informed them both in her most severe tone.

“I like syrup best of all.” He grinned without a trace of repentance, knowing his continued enjoyment of this exchange about drove Red to distraction. He tried to imagine what it would be like if she stopped being all defensive. He got a sudden image of Red smiling and joyful as she served tea to him and Belle. The idea jolted clear through him. It was something he’d like to see in real life. But like Red said,
In your dreams, cowboy.

He sat on the upright log stool as Belle and Red sat across from each other on the chairs.

It was Belle’s tea party and she took charge. “Ward, will you pray over the food?”

Ward didn’t dare look at Red, but wondered if she thought the same thing as he.... Did Belle think they might need divine intervention to eat her baking? Most likely she was only playing house. He bowed his head and folded his hands. “Lord, bless this food we are about to receive and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen.”

Belle studied him with wide-eyed innocence. “That’s me, right?”

He realized she meant his prayer to bless the one who’d prepared the food. “That’s right. And Red, too, for helping you.” He shifted his gaze to his left. Red stared at the biscuits, her throat working. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes looked watery. “Red, is something wrong?”

She dashed away any hint of tears. “Something in my eye.” Her look dared him to argue otherwise. But they both knew it wasn’t true.

He couldn’t help wonder what had touched her deeply enough to bring any sign of emotion to the surface. Could he get her to tell him? Smiling at his foolishness—she’d probably tell him anything but the real reason—he split open a biscuit, spooned on syrup and took a bite. “Good. Really good.”

Belle beamed with pride. “I like cooking.”

He finished the biscuit quickly and scooped up another. “I like eating.”

He ate only two biscuits, though he could have downed a half dozen but he didn’t want to deprive them of the fruit of their labors and certainly did not want to give Red a chance to accuse him of gluttony. He glanced around the room. He’d been inside a few times when Eddie lived here but having Red and Belle occupy the place gave it a whole new feel. His gaze lighted on the bookshelf. According to Belle, their father had enjoyed reading poetry. Just like his father. It gave him an idea.

“Do you like to read?” He meant the question for both of them but kept his gaze on Red. Saw a sudden, unguarded jolt of pleasure. Knew her answer before she spoke.

Her expression grew disinterested.

How did she do that? Knowing she’d learned to mask her feelings because of her situation with Thorton, he did his best to imitate her skill and hide his anger and regret. “Reading is okay for those with nothing else to do,” Red answered.

He chuckled, not surprised that she refused to admit her true feelings. “How busy does this little cabin keep you? Never mind. I only had in mind to suggest a source of books.” He let the words sit, waiting for Red to swallow her defensiveness and ask for more details.

Belle, likely knowing her sister would not easily give in, spoke. “I can read a little. Red taught me how.”

“You ever had a real reader?”

“No. Red told me she had them when she learned to read. She used newspapers for me to learn.” Her eyes sparkled. “One paper had a story in it. You know, a chapter at a time. Red made me skip parts of it.” The look of accusation in her eyes brought a chuckle from Ward.

“I can imagine why.”

“She said it was too grown-up for me.”

“I think there might be a reader or two in the place I mean.” He waited, watching Red fight an internal fight.

Finally she gave him a look rife with annoyance. “So where is this secret stash of books?”

“I’ll tell you on one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed, her lips tightened.

He curled his hands into fists that she still thought he might exact unwanted favors from him.

“Red, just answer one question honestly.” He didn’t give her a chance to get any more defensive. “Do you enjoy reading?”

Surprise flared through her eyes. She sucked in a gasp as if his question had physically landed a blow to her lungs. For a moment she didn’t answer, then she blinked and nodded. “I like reading.”

“Wait here.” He hurried out the door and jogged across to the bunkhouse, where he snagged up a green canvas knapsack. He hadn’t looked at the contents in years but it went everywhere he went. Usually it was tucked under the bed as it had been here.

He loped back to the cabin.

Red and Belle still sat at the table. Belle appeared excited. He’d say Red’s expression held more doubt than anything.

Well, he was about to prove to her that her doubts were unnecessary.

“Come and see what I have.” He rested the knapsack on the floor and untied the cords holding the top closed. On the top was a worn quilt. His fingers lingered on it. “Ma made me this. Said to always think of her when I saw it. Not that I needed anything to make me remember her.” He pushed aside a choking homesickness and set aside the quilt before his feelings grew stronger.

Next were some family pictures. He blinked back the sting in his eyes and instead let pleasant memories crowd his mind. He showed them to Red and Belle. “My parents on their wedding day. And this is me and Travers when we were schoolboys.” His voice refused to work and he simply handed Red the picture of Hank at about two.

“Is this your little brother Hank?” Red asked, her voice curiously gentle.

He nodded but kept his attention on the stash of books. “These were my pa’s. I took them when I left.” Mostly to ensure his stepfather wouldn’t destroy them out of spite. He lifted out the first volume. “Pa’s favorite book of poetry.” The pages were thumbed from much use. “Pa read from that book almost every night, especially during the winter.”

To his regret, Ward had often wished Pa wouldn’t insist on reading the poems aloud. “Travers and I often got the giggles as we made faces to each other. Pa said nothing but sometimes lowered the book to look at us with a pained expression. If he were alive now I would want to listen to him read each of these poems.” He set the book aside and dug through the other until he found the collection of readers. “There you go, Belle.”

She took them reverently. “Thank you,” she whispered, and shuffled around to sit her back to the wall next to her collection of playthings. No doubt she was as fascinated with the illustrations in the books as Ward and Travers had been at that age.

He turned to Red. “Feel free to enjoy any of these books.”

She lifted her face to him. If he wasn’t mistaken, tears glistened in her eyes. He tried to think what they meant. Was it something he said? Or sharing memories of his pa? He wished he could retract every word that made her sad. But all he could do was brush a silvery tear from each cheek.

She jolted at his touch.

Had he overstepped the boundaries of what she would allow? But he did not immediately withdraw his hand as their looks caught and held. Hers full of so many things he couldn’t name. How could he make her see he accepted her? No judgment. No expectation of favors.

He waited for her to jerk away. Nail him with a sharp comment, but she only stared at him as if overwhelmed by her feelings.

She looked so sad and lost. If only he could read her thoughts and know where he fit in them. If only he could ease her distress. Without giving himself time to think about his actions, he leaned forward and kissed her.

It could barely be described as a kiss. His lips only touched hers, and then he drew back as startled as she as a hundred surprising thoughts exploded inside his head. He liked kissing her. He would do it again if she allowed.

He knew from the look on her face that she most certainly would not.

Chapter Eight

R
ed sprang to her feet. How dare he? After all his promises that he expected nothing in return for his help. He wasn’t any different than the rest of the men she’d seen while in Thorton’s care.

How foolish that she’d allowed herself to think he might be.

All his talk about family had knocked down more than one barrier around her heart and wave after wave of longing had swept over her. She’d once known the kind of life he talked about. Once, even, had dreamed of a time when she would enjoy the same sort of life with a husband and later, with children. Now her past made that impossible. Who would marry her once they learned? Not the sort of man she cared to share the rest of her life with. Most people would assume the worst once they heard she’d worked in a saloon. The cruelty Thorton had subjected her to had never defiled her in the worst way, but it had been malicious. He’d taught her to obey his wishes to avoid his beatings. If that failed, he only had to threaten to give Belle a taste of his meanness.

Ward had stolen a kiss. She scrubbed her hand across her mouth. It wasn’t the same as the kisses she’d endured at the saloon, yet it angered her to the depth of her soul...because she’d unlocked gates and allowed him to see far too deeply. And he’d misunderstood it as invitation.

She hurried to the table and gathered up the remains of their little tea party. Even that mocked her. She’d been as guilty as Belle at pretending.

Well, no more. She would accept his help only until she found something else, and she would. She had no idea how, but she would find a way to be on her own. No expectations. No dreams.

He slowly got to his feet. “Feel free to enjoy the books.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, keeping her back to him.

“I best be leaving.” She heard his hesitation, his confusion. His footsteps went toward the door. Stopped.

She held herself so still her muscles vibrated. She would not turn. Did not want to see the look on his face. Didn’t matter if it was disgust or something else.

His footsteps resumed. They did not continue to the door but came toward the table.

She forgot how to breathe. Her heart pounded a protest against her chest wall. She stiffened as he stopped so close behind her that she could feel the heat from his body. Now he would no doubt claim what she owed him. The best she could hope for was she’d be able to send Belle outside to play.

“Red?” His voice lacked the harshness she expected. “Red, I apologize. I didn’t mean to kiss you. Don’t know what came over me. But when I saw you crying, I wanted nothing more than to make you feel better. Somehow I thought to kiss away your troubles. I had no right. I’m sorry. You can be sure it won’t happen again.”

And then he hurried to the door. She didn’t move until his footsteps fade away. Then she crumpled to the log stool, buried her face in her hands and gritted her teeth to keep from crying. Of course he regretted kissing her. He was a decent man. Slowly she brought emotion after emotion back into submission, then pushed to her feet and finished cleaning the kitchen as Belle showed her doll the pictures in the books Ward had lent her. Thankfully her little sister was so engrossed in the books she remained unaware of Red’s state of mind.

Red allowed herself a glance at the treasure of books. She loved reading.

Her movements fueled by anger, she grabbed the pictures, intending to stuff them and the books back into the sack.

But her fingers lingered on the wedding picture of his parents. She saw Ward’s likeness to his father. Saw a happy couple with dreams of a blissful future. Agony gouged at her innards. Their happy future had been shattered by death.

Seemed even normal people couldn’t hope for a pleasant life.

What chance did she have?

None. None at all.

She jammed the pictures into the sack and crammed the books on top, yanked the ties closed and shoved the whole thing into the corner by the door.

Startled, Belle stared at her. “Don’t you want to read?”

Her desire to read almost overwhelmed her, but she couldn’t pretend she was normal and could pursue normal activities. “Not right now. Do you want to read the story to me?”

“I might not remember.”

“You will with practice.”

As Belle haltingly read the book, Red pushed her wayward thoughts back into order. She knew who she was...what she was. Her dreams were dead. But she had Belle and would devote her life to raising her sister.

Her emotions settled, she spent a pleasant hour helping Belle read. But despite her best efforts, her mind wandered to events of the day. And Ward’s kiss. Meant to comfort, he said. Was it possible he could kiss her and not think of her as Thorton’s prize? She shuddered.

Belle looked up at her. “You cold?”

“Let’s go out in the sun.” They slipped out back, grateful there seemed to be no one about to observe them.

Only she couldn’t escape her memories outdoors, either. Seeing the log benches reminded her of sitting beside Ward. She hoped he’d return for Belle’s sake to work on the doll. Only it wasn’t the doll she thought of. It was the sight of his hands as he worked, the touch of his elbow on hers...

“Belle, let’s go for a walk.” She didn’t give Belle a chance to answer before she headed up the hill. She’d go until the trees hid her.

She didn’t follow the river as Ward had shown them, but veered into the woods. The trees thickened about them. Dark shadows covered the forest floor. Birds protested at their intrusion. A raven scolded loudly. But her thoughts did not have the decency to stay behind. No amount of running would outdistance them. In fact, they grew stronger in the shadows. More fearsome until she shivered with tension.

“Let’s go home and make supper.” Poor Belle had not protested Red’s headlong flight. Perhaps she knew something had upset Red. When they started back she took Red’s hand.

“We’re going to be okay.” Her little sister’s voice was firm.

“Yes, we are.” She would not pay any heed to the frisson of fear shuddering up her spine.

The feeling would not leave her even as she and Belle prepared a simple meal and ate. Thankfully Belle was content playing with her doll and reading the books. Red tried to distract herself from her fearful thoughts by working on doll clothes. But the tingle of worry would not leave her.

She would not give it recognition by trying to decide what caused it.

Later she lay in darkness with Belle asleep beside her and the wooden doll, wrapped in a square of wool, held close.

The sensation of dread, or whatever she chose to call it, hovered on every breath.

It rose with her the next morning. Even the sight of the sun flashing on the mountains did not ease it. She paused in making breakfast to study the sampler on the wall.
Whither shall I flee from Your presence?
Seemed there were two things a person couldn’t run from—God and their thoughts. About all she could do was keep so busy neither could bother her. But a little cabin didn’t require a lot of work and making doll clothes gave her far too much time to think.

She studied the knapsack. Would reading bring forgetfulness?

But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to take out a book. They were Ward’s.

“Belle, let’s go outside.”

They stepped outside. A couple of men rode from the barn and headed west. Red caught her breath and stepped back to the protection of the cabin, but the men didn’t even glance her way.

Red swallowed hard. She hadn’t bothered to check for the presence of others before they left the cabin. Her confused emotions made her careless. She glanced up the hill to the big house, but the windows were in the shadow of the morning sun and she couldn’t tell if anyone watched. The windows of the cookhouse were mirrored by the sunshine and again, she couldn’t see if anyone saw her.

Belle had skipped ahead and now returned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Belle caught her worry and shrank to her side. “Did you see Thorton?” She squeaked the words.

Red forced calm into her heart. “Honey, Thorton is in jail. He’ll never bother us again. Now, what would you like to do?” She took Belle’s hand and marched around the cabin as if she didn’t have a fear or worry in the world.

“Can I play here?” She held her doll. “I think Sally likes this place.”

“Certainly.”

Red settled on a log bench and watched her sister play. If she had a book to read, she would enjoy the warm sunshine as much as Belle. There were books in the cabin. Ward’s books. He’d offered them to her but would he expect anything in return if she selected one to read?

“Sally and I are going for a walk.” Belle marched the wooden doll around the clearing. She paused at the corner of the cabin. “Do you think Ward will come back today?”

Red made a noncommittal sound. She wondered the same thing. After her reaction to his kiss yesterday, would he take offense? Decide to let them manage on their own? After all, from the beginning she’d insisted they could. And she meant to prove it.

Belle circled back to the log. “Maybe he’ll give Sally arms and legs today.”

Red said he might but not to count on it. She would not admit the weight and fear she’d carried since yesterday came from wondering if he would. Insisting that’s what she wanted had become hard, heavy work.

* * *

It had been a long night for Ward, worrying as he did that Red might not forgive him for stealing a kiss. He’d apologized because he understood it went beyond what Red would accept, but he didn’t regret it one bit. He’d fallen asleep with a smile on his lips as he thought of her leaning forward, unconsciously needing, wanting to be kissed.

The early morning hours had dragged. It seemed his chores took longer than usual. One horse needed something for colic. The horses required a ration of oats. One of the cowboys was feverish and Ward had to fetch Linette to check on him.

Linette questioned him as they walked down the hill to the bunkhouse. “Is Red ready for visitors yet?”

“I don’t know.”

“Warn her I won’t be delaying much longer. Besides, Grady is anxious for a playmate.”

“I’ll mention it.” A foolish thought tugged at his brain. He liked having Red and Belle to himself. How selfish of him. And yet it warmed a cold spot behind his heart that had been there since he’d said goodbye to his family.

“If she needs anything, just let me know.”

They reached the bunkhouse and Linette examined the cowboy. “He’ll be okay. Lots of rest and fluids. I’ll get Bertie to tend him.”

Finally Ward finished his work and strode toward the cabin. He’d seen Red and Belle sneak around to the privacy at the back.

Not wanting to frighten them, he made enough noise heading after them to give plenty of warning.

Belle ran forward and held the doll toward him. “We’ve been playing.”

He guessed she meant her and the doll. “I hope she’s been good company.”

Belle giggled. “She’s my best friend.”

He followed Red’s movements as she left the log bench and pressed into the shadows of the cabin. He couldn’t see her expression to measure her feelings.

He stepped toward her.

She crossed her arms across her middle as he approached.

His feet were suddenly heavy and awkward. He almost stumbled, though nothing caught his boot. She looked scared and defensive. Had he done that to her? Lord, forgive him if he had. “Hi, Red.”

“Good morning.”

“Thought I’d do some more work on Belle’s doll.”

Belle followed behind him. “Here she is. Her name is Sally and she’s wondering when she can have arms.”

Red’s mouth opened and closed. She swallowed loudly enough for him to hear, then stared at the mountains.

Ward took the doll. “She’ll have her arms as soon as I’m done giving her a proper head and body.”

“Good. She needs her arms to do her school lessons.” Belle skipped away and settled on a log bench where she picked up a reader and gave it her full attention.

Red still stared into the distance, her shoulders drawn almost to her ears. Tension seemed to hold her in a vise. “Red, what’s wrong? Is it about yesterday?”

She slowly brought her wide-eyed gaze to him. “Sally was my mother’s name. I don’t know if Belle is aware of that. She was only five when Mama died. How much does she remember?” Her voice was a thin, sharp whisper. She breathed hard and pressed her hands to her stomach as if enduring pain.

He could no more deny her the comfort he ached to give than he could erase her past. He drew her to his chest and eased her around the corner out of Belle’s sight, lest the little girl see her sister’s distress and be upset.

Red stiffened, refusing comfort in his arms, yet she didn’t slip from his grasp as if needing what she would not allow herself. It gave Ward encouragement.

“What happened to your parents?”

She gasped in air.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. But he couldn’t pull the words back, so he simply held her gently, giving her time to decide if she wanted to answer or not.

“There was an accident.”

“They both died at the same time?” He knew what it meant to lose one parent. But two at once? His chest felt like a great weight had been dropped to it.

“Someone from a nearby mine was trucking dynamite through town. Someone explained what happened but I don’t remember. I didn’t care. Still don’t. I went from a happy daughter to a sixteen-year-old orphan with a little sister to care for.”

The air shimmered with pain and regret.

“Poor Belle. She was so young. Does she remember any of the good or just the bad?” The agony in her voice shredded Ward’s heart. He must reassure her.

“Belle is a happy child and her fears seem to be disappearing rapidly. It appears to me you’ve protected her from being completely aware of everything going on around her. You should be proud of yourself,” he said.

She sucked in air until he thought her lungs would explode. Then let it out in a windy gust, “Proud? How can I be proud? I am ashamed of who I am.” She flashed brittle green eyes at him and he knew from the rigid set of her shoulders that she had said more than she intended to.

“You can hardly blame yourself for the fact Thorton tricked you.”