"You still haven't."
She went on as if he hadn't spoken. "But I couldn't leave my trunk in town. Everything I own in the world is in there." She slowed down for a minute as if thinking seriously about that last statement. "Besides," she continued determinedly, "I wanted to have my things with me when I reached my home."
"My home," Samuel corrected.
"Hmmm… "
It didn't matter what she thought, Samuel told himself. The cabin belonged to him, and that was how it was going to be. He shoved the trunk up farther on his back and realized that at least he knew now what had made the unusual noises he'd been hearing just before her arrival.
Only an hour ago he'd been lying in bed, enjoying his hard-won seclusion and trying to identify the strange sounds that kept coming closer to the cabin.
After six months of solitude Samuel knew the fading-day sounds of the mountains surrounding his small cabin. He could recognize in an instant the scrabbling of a raccoon or the soft footfalls of a stalking wolf. The sighing of the wind through the pine trees was familiar, comfortable. Even the eerie creaking of the cabin walls was, in its own way, soothing.
But the occasional scraping, followed by a heavy thud, didn't belong. He'd been about ready to go investigate when the cabin door flew open and Abby Sutton arrived to destroy his peace.
Small consolation indeed to find out that the noise he'd been listening to had been Abby trying to drag the damn trunk up the mountain!
He walked into the cabin and dropped the trunk to the floor beside her carpetbag.
She sighed happily. "Thank you, Mr. Hart."
He nodded and moved for the stove and the now hot coffee. After grabbing down two tin cups from a nearby shelf, he filled them and set them down on a small, hastily built table that sat close to the fire. Straddling a chair that looked far too flimsy to support him, Samuel watched her.
She made no move toward the coffee he knew she wanted. She only stared at him. He stared back, allowing himself to look her over carefully for the first time.
Abby Sutton was the tiniest, most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She couldn't stand any higher than five feet. The top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. In seconds his gaze swept over her small, well-shaped form, noticing every detail, from the neatly mended tear in her dress to her unusual golden eyes. Most of her deep chestnut-brown hair was hidden by a particularly ugly bonnet, tied with a violently purple bow… but a few stray curls had escaped confinement to lay against the smooth ivory skin of her cheeks. Her full lips were parted, and finely arched honey-colored eyebrows lifted slightly above the remarkable eyes that held him.
"Have you finished?" she asked quietly.
"What?"
"I asked have you finished your inspection?"
He shook his head and pushed his shaggy blond hair away from his eyes. Then he heard a faint tapping noise. Her little foot was moving quickly against the floorboards. Deliberately he looked back up at her and forced his lips into a halfhearted smile.
"Yeah, I'm finished."
"Good." She held her skirt aside and seated herself gingerly on the chair opposite him. After taking a sip of the strong black coffee, Abby set her cup down and said, "Now, Mr. Hart. We should talk about what we're going to do."
He crossed his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on them. "We ain't gonna do anything. You are gonna be leaving. First thing in the morning."
Abby smiled and toyed with the cup handle. "That is no way to begin our little discussion, Mr. Hart. Now. Perhaps you would tell me how you came to be living on my property?"
Samuel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he stayed calm. "Well, Miss Sutton, I bought this property from Silas Sutton six months ago."
"Well —" she smiled —"that explains it." Abby took another sip of the coffee, ignoring Samuel's sputtering.
"Why don't you tell me what it explains?"
"Certainly." She reached up for the bow at her chin, untied the ribbon, and pulled her bonnet off. Setting it on the table beside her, Abby said, "Uncle Silas must have changed his mind."
"Changed his mind?" Samuel's only recollection of Silas Sutton was that of an old man, beaten by life, trying to find a way to pay for the whiskey he craved so desperately.
"Of course." Abby picked up the coffee cup and leaned her elbows on the table. It rocked precariously. Leaning over, she inspected the lopsided legs. "We'll have to fix this, I see."
"I like my table just the way it is," Samuel said.
"Really?" She sat up straight again. "I can't imagine why."
"What about Silas?" His voice was much louder now, and he made a valiant effort to control himself.
"Oh, yes. As I was saying, Uncle Silas sold you the property six months ago."
"That's right."
"But," Abby added with a secretive smile, "he left it to me in his will just two months ago!"
Samuel's brow wrinkled, and he ran one of his big hands over his face. What she'd just said proved his case. The property belonged to him. He glanced at her. Why, then, did she look so pleased with herself? Quickly, silently, he recited the alphabet, feeling the old familiar calm flood through him once more. He'd simply have to try to get through to her again.
"Miss Sutton—" he began.
"Please call me Abby," she said with a smile.
"All right." He swallowed heavily. "Abby."
"And your name is Samuel, is that right?"
"Yeah."
"That's a lovely name. It's from the Bible, you know."
"Yeah, I know." His fingers curled over his arms, and he pressed down tightly. "Now, Abby, about that will…"
"Wasn't it lovely of Uncle Silas to remember me like that?"
"Hmmm?"
"Uncle Silas. Leaving me this cabin." She was watching him with that sympathetic look again. Speaking slowly, she went on. "It's been so long since I've had a home of my own, I mean a real home… "
He watched her eyes as she looked around the shabby little place. A gleam of pride and excitement shone in those golden depths, and Samuel had to force himself to look away. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't sent for her. He hadn't told her to come. He hadn't promised something he had no right to give.
Damn Silas Sutton for doing this to him!
It wasn't going to get any easier, he knew. So Samuel finally decided to just spit out exactly what Silas had done.
"Abby, this isn't your home. It's mine."
She shook her head gently and smiled. This was her home now, and she intended to stay no matter what it took.
"And will you stop lookin' at me like I'm some dumb dog beggin' a meal?"
Abby straightened and her smile vanished. He seemed so sure. She couldn't bear the thought he was right. But he wasn't overly bright, and perhaps, she told herself, she could muddy the waters a bit. At least until she could figure out what to do! "But, Samuel, I've just told you that Uncle Silas named me in his will only two months ago."
"Exactly!" The flat of his hand slammed down on the tabletop, and she grabbed for her coffee cup. "Since I bought this property six months ago… Silas couldn't have left it to you!"
"But that's what I meant when I said he'd obviously changed his mind."
"Huh?"
"He may have sold you the cabin first… but he changed his mind later and left it to me!”
“Don't you understand?" Samuel said, his frustration mounting with every breath. "The property wasn't his to leave you."
"Well, of course it was his." Abby smiled. "If it wasn't his, how could he have sold it to you?"
"It was his. Now it's mine!" Samuel felt as though his mind were covered in cobwebs. He knew he was right! So why was it even he was beginning to doubt it?
"No, it was his, then you thought it was yours, but now it's mine!" She looked around her again and sighed. "And I can't tell you how exciting it all is. Only a few weeks ago I was in Maryland, and now I'm in my own home!"
Samuel groaned.
"Of course, I had no idea the trip would be so expensive." She leaned toward him slightly and confided, "I had to sell Mother's ring and locket… and of course, the horses."
"Horses?"
"Oh, yes." She leaned over and reached for her carpetbag. Pulling it onto her lap, she went on. "Papa's matched set of grays. My, they were lovely." She shrugged. "But I'm sure Papa would have wanted them to provide the means to reach my new home. And Mr. Pentwhistle was certainly eager to get them."
After digging into her bag, Abby finally pulled out a sheaf of papers. She gripped them tightly for a moment. Then, handing them to Samuel, she said, "Here is my copy of the will, Samuel. You can see for yourself."
Abby was thinking fast. She couldn't lose her home! Not now… not after she'd come so far. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. How did she know her uncle had sold this giant his property? Did he have a paper to prove what he said? She did.
As he read over the papers, Abby restlessly began moving around the cabin. From the corner of his eye he saw her run one finger over the long shelf that held his cooking supplies.
Grimly she shook her head at the layer of grime she'd picked up.
Samuel grunted and let his eyes go back to the papers he held. She was right. The old bastard really had left her his property. Why the hell would he do something like that when he knew he had no right?
Abby was down on her hands and knees, poking into a low cabinet. Lord alone knew what she'd find down there. Samuel shook his head again and told himself it was none of her business what his place looked like. After all, he had no reason to keep the place clean… no one ever saw it but him. At least, not until now.
Fingers tightening around the useless will, Samuel forced his gaze away from Abby and tried to think. Reluctantly he allowed himself to remember that Abby had said she'd spent every last cent of her money to reach the mountain cabin.
His full lips thinned into a grim line. What would she do if he made her leave? Where would she go? How would she live if he forced her out?
He sat up straight. If? Of course she had to leave. There were no ifs about it. And it wasn't any concern of his what happened to her, either.
Chapter Two
"Abby?"
She didn't answer.
"Abby?" Samuel looked down. All he could see was her back side. The upper half of her was completely hidden in the cabinet she was inspecting. He rubbed a hand across his bearded jaw and ground his teeth together. "Abby, about this will… "
She backed out slowly. When her head was clear, she sat back on her heels and looked up. Samuel sighed. With that streak of dirt across her forehead and the splotch of grime on the tip of her nose, she looked far too vul nerable. He forced his gaze back to the papers he held, then calmly he said what he must, knowing that it would no doubt bring tears to her golden eyes.
"Abby," he began, "this will don't prove anything. All it says is that Silas left you prop erty that didn't belong to him."
Samuel waited uneasily for the tears to start.
He didn't enjoy doing this. But dammit, this cabin belonged to him. And he had to make her understand that.
Abby reached up and patted at her cobweb-covered hair, then brushed at the front of her dress. For several minutes she didn't say a thing. Samuel finally realized that she didn't look the least bit upset, and somehow, that didn't really surprise him.
"The will says this place is mine," she said quietly. "Do you have a paper proving that Uncle Silas sold it to you?"
Samuel squirmed a little under her steady gaze. He should have known this wouldn't be easy. "No, I don't have a bill of sale… "
Her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. "But," he continued, "the sale is recorded at the county seat."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well, then," Abby said determinedly, "we'll simply have to let the court decide who the cabin belongs to."
"The court?"
"Of course." Abby pushed herself to her feet and dragged one of the rickety chairs over to the wall. She glanced over her shoulder at Samuel before stepping up onto the chair seat. "You say the land is yours, and I know it's mine. So, we'll tell our stories to a judge and let him decide."
Dammit, he thought indignantly. The court! Hell, there was no court in Rock Creek. The closest thing they had to law around there was a fat sheriff everyone called Sunshine, 'cause he never did any sheriffing after dark.
Mentally Samuel once again went through the alphabet. Now he would have to ask questions about how to find a judge. And that meant he would have to talk to those folks in town. He swallowed heavily. In six months he'd managed to avoid the damn town except for his few trips down the mountain for sup plies. Now he would be forced to talk with those people who stared at him with fear-filled eyes.
He looked over at Abby in disgust. This was all her fault. No. It was Silas Sutton's fault. Damn his sneaky hide.
Samuel shook his head. Now she was sticking her nose into his gun cabinet. Nosiest damn woman he'd ever seen! Samuel looked back down at the will in his hand and then tossed it onto the table. Why had this hap pened to him? Hadn't he already been given more than his share of troubles in life?
Abby's squeal of surprise came at the same instant as the crash. Samuel spun around and saw her stretched out on the cabin floor, the remains of the splintered chair beneath her.
Wills, courts, and judges forgotten, Samuel jumped up and reached her side in two long strides. Immediately he knelt beside her and ran his hands over her body, checking for breaks.
Abby lay perfectly still. Her eyes closed, she felt the giant's huge hands on her body. Feather-soft and gentle, his touch moved over her like a breath, and she knew she'd been right about the big man. For all his mumblings and his wild appearance, she had nothing to fear from Samuel Hart.
"Are you all right?"
She opened her eyes and stared at him. His shaggy blond hair hung down on either side of his face, and that beard of his completely hid his mouth. But Abby saw the concern in his gentle green eyes, and it was to that she answered.