His features unreadable, Abby continued to stare at him, trying to understand. Did he think so little of her then that her help wouldn't be appreciated? Didn't he see how important this was to her?
"I want to help," she said stubbornly.
"Help? By drivin' my horses up and down the mountain day after day? How the hell is that gonna help?"
"You didn't seem to mind before… "
His fists clenched, and she could see his lips moving in some silent muttering. "That was before. You weren't talkin' about goin' down to Rock Creek regular. And while we're talkin' about this… how do you figure to do all your sewin' for folks in the dead of winter?"
She stood silent.
"Didn't think on that, did you?" He nodded victoriously. "Come wintertime, Abby, the cabin is mostly snowed in. That's why I get my supplies in before winter. 'Cause you can't count on gettin' down that road." She gripped her fingers together. "All right, Samuel. Perhaps you're right."
"Perhaps?"
"But I could work until the judge comes, anyway." She lifted her chin slightly. "For all we know, I may not be here during the winter. The judge could very well give over the land to you, and then where would I be? I must have something to see me through the winter, one way or another."
His green eyes widened slightly at her statement. Then in a soft, hushed voice he said, "Whatever happens with the judge, Abby, you know you could stay here."
She could stay, he said. Abby swallowed heavily. He said nothing about love or marriage. Just that she could stay. Like Luke. She could earn her keep. Only she wouldn't be earning it by cleaning out the barn. Abby felt like crawling under the table and hiding. It was all her own fault. She'd given herself to him so eagerly, of course he would think poorly of her. But still, to make an offer like that. A stab of hurt and shame slashed through her. Somehow, she hadn't expected the ache to be so deep. If she'd had any doubts at all about becoming a seamstress, they were gone now.
Clearly, she'd been wrong. Samuel didn't love her. Yet.
"No, Samuel," she whispered, blinking back the tears in her eyes. "I couldn't stay where I don't belong rightfully."
His face paled, and Abby had to fight down the urge to go to him. But she stood in place, her hands tightly clasped, her chin lifted. Finally he lowered his gaze, shifted his feet, and turned to stand up.
When he did, his foot kicked the piece of leather from beneath the table leg, and his knee upset the delicate balance. The rickety table rocked, creaked, then tipped over. The skillet fell with a loud crash and stew spilled out onto the wooden floor. China plates brought all the way from Maryland shattered into delicately flowered ceramic shards, and hot coffee seeped through the cracks of the floorboards.
Harry whined softly and backed away from the mess. Maverick took a position next to Luke and seemed reassured by the boy's hand on his neck.
For a long moment no one said anything. Samuel's gaze locked on Abby's, and they stood grimly staring at each other. Finally he spoke.
"I told you once, Abby. I like things the way they are. If you hadn't tried to 'fix' that damned table… none of this would have happened." He spread his arms wide and shook his head. "Why'd you have to change everything?"
She knew he wasn't talking about the table. "I only tried to make things right, Samuel." Abby's voice was choked.
Luke watched as slowly Samuel's arms dropped. Then the big man turned and walked outside. The boy looked at Abby and saw the tears she was fighting so hard to hide. Quietly Luke motioned for the dogs to follow him and left the cabin so Abby could let go and have her cry.
Once outside, Luke ignored the sounds of Samuel's hammer and walked instead to the deserted barn. He went back to the corner stall and fell onto the stacked hay. Something was very wrong.
His small hand moved over Maverick's big head as he went over the scene in the cabin again. He didn't understand exactly what had happened, but Luke was pretty sure that Abby and Samuel hadn't been that angry over a few broken plates.
They'd been talkin' about something else altogether, he decided. And whatever it was, he was afraid that his peaceful time in the cabin was near over.
"Where'll I go now, Maverick?" His small voice was swallowed by the silence of the immense barn. The dog turned and licked Luke's face as though sensing the child's distress and hoping to ease it. "Why is it I can't find me a place? A place to stay?" Luke's fingers curled in Maverick's fur and tightened when he added softly, "I tried really hard this time, boy. I surely did. And I thought, maybe…"
Leaning down toward the big dog, Luke buried his face in Maverick's neck and cried. Softly at first, as though he didn't remember how, Luke let the tears come until they shook his small body with the full force of the blow that had smashed his newfound safety.
Samuel lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. The bundling board was back in place, and he could hear Abby breathing quietly. It irritated him that she could sleep so easily.
He turned his head when Luke started muttering in his sleep. The boy was tossing and turning in his blankets, wrapping himself up tightly in the tangled mess. Samuel sighed and threw his forearm over his eyes. It was the first time in days that Luke had spent a restless night. And Samuel knew that what had happened over supper was somehow responsible.
A log in the fireplace snapped and broke apart. The wind outside made a steady droning sound that was the perfect lonely accompaniment to Samuel's bleak thoughts.
What had made her do it? What had happened to convince Abby to suddenly find a way of making money? He'd thought she was happy. And after the night spent in each other's arms, Samuel'd allowed himself to believe that perhaps she would want to stay. Instead, she started talkin' about the judge and maybe havin' to leave.
Samuel shifted position and tugged at the quilt. The judge. How the hell had he for gotten about the judge and the damned hearing? When Abby first arrived at the cabin, all he'd been able to think about was getting this whole mess straightened out and having the cabin to himself again. Now, after only a few weeks, just the thought of Abby leavin' turned him to butter.
Luke moaned softly, and Samuel winced. Who would have thought that he'd come to care so much for a scrawny, independent little cuss like that? But he did. And Samuel knew without a doubt that if Abby left, so would Luke.
Dammit, he knew she loved the mountain. The cabin. And she even seemed to have some feeling for him. Maybe, he thought suddenly, he could ask her to marry him. Then they could both stay on the mountain. Luke would stay. They could all be a family. A real family.
His lips twisted sardonically, and he flopped over onto his side. Marry him? Abby? No. A pretty little thing like her wouldn't want to marry up with a big, ugly, ignorant fool who lives on mountaintops to avoid people. But, his brain taunted, she went to bed with you. She must care something about you.…
He punched his pillow and closed his eyes determinedly. Beddin' and weddin' are two almighty different things, he told himself sternly, and there ain't no use in pretendin' otherwise.
Why was she so hell-bent on ruining everything? Why couldn't she just be happy with the way things were? Like him.
"Samuel —" Abby caught his arm just as he was walking out the door.
He stopped but didn't look at her. "What is it, Abby?"
"Would you like to go to town with me today? You and Luke, I mean?"
His green eyes focused on her. She noticed the red streaks and knew he'd gotten as little sleep as she had. She'd lain awake for hours, thinking over every little thing he'd said at dinner. And though she was willing to admit that perhaps Samuel didn't love her… she was quite sure of her own feelings. She loved Samuel. That wouldn't change. And she re fused to feel shame for what they'd done together. Somewhere deep inside him, Abby knew that Samuel cared for her. If not love, then at least a fondness. And that was a start.
"Why?" he asked.
Abby took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give an inch. If they were to make up at all, she knew it would have to be her doing. And since she wasn't at all sure exactly why he was acting so strangely, it wouldn't be easy. The only thing she could try was being completely honest.
"Samuel," she began, her fingers smoothing over the back of his hand, "why are you so upset? Does it really matter so much if I want to help buy supplies?"
His free hand clamped down over hers, stilling her movements. He couldn't think when she touched him. Samuel's brain raced, looking for the right thing to say. How could he tell her that he was terrified of her earning her own money? She would never understand that to him it meant one thing. Having money of her own would make it too easy for her to leave him.
He couldn't. Instead, he lied. "That ain't it, Abby. It's just that I don't like the idea of you goin' up and down the mountain all alone regular like." She smiled, the shadows lifted from her eyes, and he went on. "There's wild animals — some folks just as wild — and anything could happen to the horses or wagon, leavin' you flat-out stuck. And alone."
"Oh, I'd be very careful, Samuel," she said, "and maybe you could go to town with me… "
"I got plenty to do right here, Abby. Gettin' ready for winter and such —" "Oh," she cut in quickly, "I didn't mean all the time. But sometimes?"
His thumb moved slowly across the back of her hand, and as he stared down into her eyes, Samuel knew he was lost. All through their quiet, uncomfortable breakfast together, Samuel had wanted to say something. But he'd had no idea what. He remembered the cautious uneasiness in Luke's eyes. The forced, polite remarks Abby'd made in hopes of easing the tension. And he remembered wishing that he could put an end to everyone's discomfort. Here was his chance.
"Sometimes," he agreed softly.
"Starting today?"
Samuel shook his head resignedly. He ought to have known by now that once you agreed to something, Abby didn't much care for waiting around. "All right, Abby. Starting today."
She stood on her toes to kiss him quickly, then grinned and started through the door.
"I'll get Luke. We'll be ready in just a shake!"
Standing in the doorway, Samuel stared after her. She moved with an easy grace that never failed to captivate him. He leaned against the doorjamb and studied the sway of her hips, the determination in her stride. Suddenly he chuckled and noted that today she was wearing some kind of pink dress with a bright blue ribbon wrapped around her waist and tied in a huge bow at the small of her back.
A dressmaker?
Poor Minerva.
By the time they reached Rock Creek, Samuel was glad he'd given in to Abby. Luke was smiling again, despite the fact that wariness still shone in his eyes. Abby, as quick to forget as she was to forgive, had chattered happily all the way to town. Clearly, she was willing to put their little disagreement behind them. Samuel only wished he could.
Not that he was angry, he told himself. It was just the thought of Abby havin' some ready cash that worried him.
Samuel left Luke and Abby at Mullins's Mercantile and went on down the street to the Lucky Lady Saloon with Alonzo Mullins. Samuel still found it hard to accept that the people of Rock Creek were not only unafraid of him, but actually seemed to like him.
"Sure am glad you showed up when you did, Sam," Alonzo was saying. "Minerva's a fine woman, don't get me wrong now, but she liked to run my legs clean off this morning. Do this, do that. It's a wonder the woman's lips don't drop off into the dirt, the way she's forever flappin' 'em!"
Samuel chuckled softly and climbed the three short steps to the saloon. Alonzo pushed ahead of him into the darkened building and heaved a sigh of satisfaction as he marched to the bar.
"Gimme a beer, Dave, will ya?" he said to the bartender, then turned to his companion. "Beer all right with you, Sam?"
Samuel nodded.
"Make it two."
Drinks in hand, Samuel followed Alonzo to a table in the far corner. As they sat down, Alonzo took a long gulp of his beer and sighed happily.
"One thing I'll say for Sarah Dumont. Her beer's always cold."
Samuel's fingers toyed with the long, thick stem of the heavy glass goblet and let his gaze drift lazily over the Lucky Lady. One of the fanciest saloons he'd ever seen, Samuel had never really felt comfortable stopping by for a drink before. He'd always expected someone to start a fight. Usually, it was some young sprout eager to prove himself against a much bigger man.
With a start, Samuel realized that he hadn't done much worrying about things like that since Abby's arrival. He'd been much too busy worrying over his reaction to her.
"Like I said before, Sam," Alonzo said, breaking into his thoughts, "I'm glad you came to town today."
Samuel leaned into the curved back of his chair and laid his forearms on the worn, maple armrests. He studied the other man thoughtfully for a long moment. For the first time Samuel noticed that Alonzo was decidedly nervous.
The thin man's lips were twitching, his pale fingers drummed on the scarred tabletop, and he was having trouble meeting Samuel's direct gaze.
"Somethin' wrong?" Samuel asked quietly.
"Hmmm?" Alonzo jumped. "Oh, no. No, nothin' wrong. Not really. It's just that —"
The batwing doors behind them swung open, sending a shaft of sunlight into the dim saloon. Buck Whitehall signaled to the bar tender, then walked to the table and sat down opposite Samuel.
"]'Did ya tell him yet?" he asked Alonzo.
Not yet," the man grumbled. "Been workin' up to it.
Samuel's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked from one man to the other. The bartender set a beer in front of Buck and walked away.
Buck lifted the drink to his lips, drank, and commented, "Hell, I'll say it if you won't."
"I was elected," Alonzo retorted. "I'll do it."
Samuel shifted uneasily. He didn't much like any of this.
"Sam," Alonzo started, "the folks of Rock Creek done elected me to talk to you."
"He knows that," Buck grumbled.