The Road to Love (14 page)

All his practice at denying his emotions seemed wasted. He couldn't look at her without his heart bucking like an unbroken horse. He clutched at the safest topic that came to mind. “How's the baby?”

“Improving. I think she'll make it.”

“Good.”

“I can't imagine losing a baby. Or a child.”

He ignored her expectant look. Knew she wanted to hear about his parents, his family, how he'd been arrested for murder.

He gulped his food and escaped back to the field, where his thoughts would still haunt him but at least he'd be alone with his torture.

 

It was Saturday. Hatcher watched the activities around the house as he bounced along on the tractor while Kate and the children housecleaned. Dougie shook out the floor mats, banged them on the step, laughed as the dust rose in a cloud.

Hatcher's throat tightened for so many reasons. The family he'd left behind, lost. The times he'd done the same thing for his mother. The laughter he'd shared with Lowell.

And the knowledge he'd soon be saying goodbye to Kate and the children. The ache inside his chest yawned like a bottomless cave.

Mary carried water from the house and poured it on the rows of potatoes, some already poking through the soil. Hatcher guessed it was wash water. He imagined the floors gleaming. Floors he'd had glimpses of when he handed the milk to Kate each day. The first day he'd seen inside, the house had a slightly neglected air—jackets tossed helterskelter, dishes stacked on the sideboard as if she didn't have time to put them away. Over the days, the interior took on a distinctly different air—it smelled fresh, it looked renewed. Every surface was clean and tidy.

Kate stepped outside and shook a floor mop. She glanced toward him and waved.

Ah, sweet Kate. My world will be the sweeter for having known you, the sadder for having to say goodbye.
He acknowledged the truth of his mother's words—there was always something that made life worthwhile. Having known Kate for even such a short length of time would make the rest of his life worth the living simply for the pleasure of remembering her.

He lifted his hand in a quick salute. She continued to watch him until he grew wary. She was scheming something. Likely figuring out how to persuade him to tell about his past. She was wasting her time. A shame considering how busy she was.

She still watched as he turned a corner. He told himself he didn't care if she stared at his back. No matter to him. But didn't she have better things to do?

Come noon, he considered skipping lunch. Except his stomach rebelled. And he couldn't deny a little curiosity to see what all the running to and fro meant.

He didn't have to wait long as Dougie ran out and met him halfway across the yard.

“We're taking a little holiday.”

The yard suddenly seemed too full of space as though something had dropped out of his world. They were going away? Well, he'd been alone before and would soon have to get reacquainted with that state. “That a fact?”

“Momma says we deserve it for working so hard this morning. We cleaned the house from one end to the other. Momma says it hasn't been so clean in a long time.”

No reason for them not to enjoy themselves. In fact, he was happy for them. Less so for himself as he envisioned the emptiness when they left. “Uh-huh.”

Mary joined them, her usual restrained, sedate self, or so he thought until she stopped dead center in front of him and giggled. “Guess what we're going to do?”

“Maybe take a holiday?”

She wilted. “Dougie already told you.”

“Yup.”

“Bet he didn't say what we're going to do.”

“Nope.” He squeezed Dougie's shoulder before the boy could shout it out. “Let Mary tell.”

“We're going to the coulee to find violets.” The girl grinned so wide Hatcher knew this must be something special.

“Momma says she used to go there every spring,” Mary added.

“Before Poppa died,” Dougie said. “Before she got too busy,” he added in a sad tone.

Hatcher chuckled. The two of them sure could be dramatic.

“You're coming with us, aren't you?” Mary asked.

His heart leaped to his throat. He faltered on his next step. He'd once been part of a family, part of their outings. He and Lowell had favorite escapes. One, a grove of trees where they could play for hours. Lowell had spent much of his time building a tiny log shelter.

“If we didn't already have a farm, I'd say let's move west and build us a log cabin,” Hatcher had said, fascinated by the construction.

If only Lowell could see these flatlands where the trees were no bigger than a sapling, he'd be disappointed to say the least.

Hatcher shoved aside the thought, dismissed the memory, ignored the way pain tore through his gut.

“I have to work.” They reached the steps where Kate waited with his lunch in hand.

“No, you don't. I've declared the afternoon a holiday for the whole farm,” she said.

Dougie cheered. “Now you can come, too.”

Hatcher kept his gaze on the plate, though for the life of him he couldn't have said what the food was. Surely she didn't mean to invite him.

“We're going as soon as we finish dinner,” Mary said. She looked happier than Hatcher had seen her.

“That includes you,” Kate said softly.

To his credit, he didn't flinch. He didn't have to look to know her eyes would be stubborn and gentle at the same time.

Common sense returned. The children would no doubt tell of their adventure. People would soon realize he'd accompanied them. Doyle would have a royal snit. “Ma'am, I don't think that would be a good idea.”

“I refuse to take no for an answer. Besides, do you want to disappoint the children?”

“Please say you'll come.” Dougie practically bounced off the ground in his excitement.

Hatcher had to wonder when Kate had last taken the children on a fun outing.

He knew he shouldn't do this. It was way over the line. Someone would end up paying for it. Probably all of them. Yet he allowed Dougie's words and Mary's eager look to override his internal protests.

He met Kate's eyes then. The triumph in her expression let him know she realized his predicament.

He nodded slightly. Just enough to let her know he realized he'd been set up. He couldn't spoil the children's fun, though if he gave himself a chance to think it through, he would admit there was no point in them getting used to having him around. It would end soon.

“Very well,” he murmured.

“Let's eat.” Kate shepherded the children inside leaving Hatcher with his uneaten lunch and undigested thoughts.

He didn't know how they managed to eat and clean up so quickly but they returned before he'd choked down his own lunch or figured out a way to escape the afternoon.

“Come on.” Dougie stood in front of him, rocking from one foot to the other as he waited for Hatcher to join them.

Kate smiled as he slowly got to his feet and followed the children.

He'd pleased her with his decision to join them. He briefly allowed himself a taste of pleasure at her nod of approval, all the time aware of warning tension in the back of his head.

He should not be doing this.

T
he coulee with its constantly changing array of flowers was Kate's favorite place away from the farm site. Yet she hadn't been there since Jeremiah died. She hadn't had time. The farm took every minute of her life and all her attention, demanding even more than her children received. But today she intended to make up for all the times she'd been too harsh, too hurried, too distracted. Today they were going to enjoy themselves. Hatcher included.

She shuddered as she recalled the way Doyle's announcement speared through her like a well-aimed pitchfork. Her quick defense of Hatcher had been automatic, the accusations against him as unbelievable as someone naming Dougie a gunfighter. Not that Hatcher denied it. Something had happened, and Kate, curious, wished Hatcher would tell her. But whether or not he chose to wouldn't change her conviction, her unquestioning knowledge of his innocence.

Once her initial shock died away, her throat practically pinched shut. She couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like to be accused of such a crime. How had he been involved enough to receive such a terrible charge? But whatever happened had to have been an accident or a mistake.

How she ached for the pain and shame he'd faced, continued to face. She'd seen his resigned look when Doyle delivered his information. The wary guardedness in his eyes. Knew he'd experienced rejection because of the murder charge. It explained his hobo lifestyle.

She wanted nothing more than to ease that pain, erase the guardedness, comfort his sorrow. She longed to hold him close but the best she could do was include him in this outing, prove to him she didn't believe he'd done wrong. Remind him of all the good things life offered.

She laughed from the pure joy of an afternoon free of the demands of work. She wanted to run and jump and holler like Dougie did. And laugh and dance like Mary. Instead she held her excitement at bay. But it swelled until her heart and lungs and stomach couldn't take any more. For a moment she thought it might erupt uncontrolled, unfettered, unmanaged. But she metered it out in little laughs and wild waves of her hand as she pointed out the nearby farms to Hatcher.

“Listen,” she said, and they all ground to a halt and turned toward the sound of the train whistle as it passed through town five miles away. She and the children laughed and Hatcher looked amused, whether at hearing the train in the distance or their exuberance, she couldn't say. Nor did it matter. For the first time in months she felt young and full of life. Today was for enjoying with her children and Hatcher.

She stole a quick glance his direction, confused at all the things his presence made her feel. She knew if he'd stayed at his work this afternoon he'd be close to finished. She'd purposely taken him away to delay the inevitable—he'd be gone once the crop was seeded.

She stopped the direction of her thoughts. She wouldn't mar this day dreading the time he'd walk down the road without a backward look. She wouldn't admit the hollowness in her middle at how lonely she'd be. Instead, she turned her attention back to the beauties of nature—the satin-blue sky, the rolling sweep of the buff-colored prairie.

“There it is,” she called, pointing to the dark line indicating the coulee. Dougie raced ahead. “Be careful,” she called. Then promised herself not to ruin the day with worries.

“There. Look.” She pointed toward the perfectly round hollow three or four feet in the ground solidly paved with purple flowers crowded in so thick they hid their own leaves. “Your father—” she told Mary “—said this was a buffalo rub. I guess that's why the violets do so well here.” The air was sweet with the smell of spring. “Impressive, don't you think?” she asked Hatcher.

Hatcher shifted his gaze from studying her to the flowers. “Lots of them.”

She'd caught a look in his eyes making her throat suddenly refuse to work. Tenderness? Longing? Or was it only a reflection of her own emotions? No. She knew what she'd seen. But what did it mean? That he wanted something more than his past provided? Did he need her to convince him he didn't need to keep running?

“Hatcher—”

“Look,” Dougie called. “A hawk's nest.”

“Can I pick some?” Mary asked, standing at the edge of the mass of flowers.

She jerked her attention to her children, her cheeks stinging. Did she think all he needed or required was her permission to stay? If it needed only that, he would have stopped running before the first year on the road ended. Something stronger than the wrongful murder charge drove him.

Grateful her children had saved her from making a fool of herself, she turned to her daughter. “Let's get some on the way home.”

Mary nodded and raced toward Dougie and the hawk's nest.

Kate took a step to follow them, stopped, turned her gaze first to the sea of purple then gathering her courage, faced Hatcher. “I hope you can let yourself enjoy the afternoon. I want everyone to have a great time.” She wanted them to have an afternoon full of sweet memories for the future. For a few short hours, she'd let nothing interfere with the joy of sharing this special time with Hatcher.

His eyes, dark as a moonless night, revealed nothing, his flat expression gave no insights into his thoughts but then his lips curved slightly at the corners.

It was enough. A quiet whisper of hope brushed her thoughts and she laughed. “Shame to miss what life has to offer.” She held his gaze for a moment.

He shifted, looked past her, putting a wide chasm between them as effectively as if he had jumped to the far side of the coulee.

Her pleasure and hope were snuffed out like a candle extinguished.

“‘The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established—'”

She cut him off before he could quote the whole book from wherever the verse came. “Stop trying to hide behind your recitation.”

She knew a wave of gratification when he looked shocked.

He hesitated only briefly. “Psalm twenty-four.”

She pursed her lips. “I'll be sure and check it out.”

He flashed a glance at her, managing to look both surprised and a tiny bit offended.

She smiled, her lips taut across her teeth. How she'd like to shake him from his incredible composure.

“Momma, look.”

Dougie's call turned her attention away from Hatcher.

Her son hovered close to the edge of the bank, peering over the edge at a nest in the tree below. Suddenly he dropped from sight. Mary screamed. Kate gasped and Hatcher raced forward, Kate at his heels.

She skidded to a halt at the edge of the cliff, as breathless as if she'd run a mile rather than a few steps.

Dougie clung to bushes four feet down. Solid ground lay twenty feet below.

Her heart trembled. “Hang on, son,” she called. “I'll get you.” She stepped closer, swayed at the nothingness below her. She flung her head around looking for something, anything to aid her. A bush, even a good clump of grass to cling to. Saw nothing but dried blades of grass. She could slide down to his side. But how would she get him up. She teetered forward, gasped and leaned back. What if she caused him to fall the rest of the way? She closed her eyes as fear burst through her veins, erupting in hot spots at her nerve endings.

Hatcher grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. “I'll get him.”

The pulsing need to rescue her son wouldn't let her relinquish the job to another. “He's my son.”

“Yes, ma'am. You stand back and let me help him.”

She turned, saw the dark assurance in his gaze. She trusted him completely. She was safe with him. Her son likewise safe. She nodded.

Hatcher flopped on his stomach and reached for Dougie. Eight inches separated his hand from Dougie's. Hatcher edged forward, still couldn't reach him.

Kate gasped as Hatcher started to slide. He was going over the edge, too.

He edged backward to safety.

“Momma,” Dougie cried, his voice thin with fear.

Instinctively, Kate knelt at the edge reaching toward him.

“Stand back,” Hatcher ordered.

Automatically she obeyed his authoritative voice.

“I don't want to have to pull you up, as well,” he said in a softer tone.

Her limbs felt as if they'd been run through the cream separator as she watched her son struggling to hang on.

Hatcher sprang to his feet, found two rocks, wedged them solidly into the embankment then dropped to his stomach again.

When she realized his intentions, her legs gave out and she sank to the parched ground.

He wormed forward until his shoulders rested on the rocks. As he reached toward Dougie, one rock shifted.

Mary screamed.

The sound shredded Kate's nerves. “Quiet.”

She didn't let her breath out until the rock dug into the sod and held.

Hatcher's hand reached Dougie. He wrapped his fingers around the boy's wrist.

“Grab hold as hard as you can,” he grunted, the sound struggling from compressed lungs.

Dougie grabbed on and Hatcher began to edge backward.

The air closed in around Kate, suffocatingly hot, impossible to breathe. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she watched Hatcher pull her son up, inch by inch.

“Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.” She murmured the words aloud, unable to pray silently.

Hatcher reached level ground and jerked Dougie over the edge of the embankment to safety.

Laughing and crying, she grabbed her son, wrapping herself around him. When she could speak, she said, “What were you thinking? You can't just throw yourself over a cliff and expect to survive.”

“Momma, I fell.”

Kate hugged him close. “I know you did but you scared me so badly.” She sank to the grass and pulled Dougie to her lap. Sobs racked her body.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Mary threw herself on top of them. They tipped over in a tangle of arms and legs. Tears gave way to laughter.

Kate hugged both children and looked up at Hatcher. “How can I ever thank you?”

He smiled. “You just did.”

At first she thought he meant her words, then noticed his dark eyes sparkled with laughter and realized he meant the amusement of watching the three of them tumbled in a heap.

He sobered but didn't blank his expression as he usually did. His dark gaze held hers with unwavering intensity as something eternal occurred between them.

He shifted, broke the connection. When his gaze returned he had again exerted his fierce mental control.

Her stomach ground fiercely. She'd wanted to shake him from his composure. It had taken Dougie's accident to succeed in that. She didn't know if she should rejoice in his momentary lapse or mourn the fact it was so brief.

One thing she knew, she didn't want her son to repeat the episode for any reason, not even to bring about a break in Hatcher's reticence. She scrubbed Dougie's hair with her knuckles and kissed Mary's head.

“I don't think I'm going to let you out of my sight for the rest of the day,” she warned her son.

“I'll be careful,” he promised, leaping to his feet. “Did you see the nest?” He ran over for another look.

Her heart leapfrogging to her throat, Kate pushed Mary aside and gained her feet in a rush. But Hatcher had already corralled the boy and gently guided him to a safe distance.

“A man always keeps his eye on what's ahead, making sure he won't step into something dangerous.”

He twitched as if the words had hit a target in his mind.

He was teaching her son to think before acting but did he think to apply his words to his own life, his past and the crime he'd been accused of, the present and her little family or the future and the open road?

She glanced around. Her children were safe. Thank God and Hatcher. The sun was warm. The sky blue. The prairie dotted with flowers of purple and yellow. Hatcher chuckled at something Dougie said. If only she could stop time, keep life locked on a day like today, only without Dougie trying to scare her out of ten years.

If only she could persuade Hatcher to stay.

Her eyes locked hungrily on him as he played with the children. His hair sorely needed cutting, yet it didn't detract from his rangy good looks. A man with unquestionable strength. The sort of man she'd gladly share the rest of her life with.

She gasped and turned away from the sight of him as the awful, wonderful truth hit her.

She loved him.

She breathed hard, stilling the rush of emotions reverberating through her veins. She knew with certainty she had never before been in love. She'd cared deeply for Jeremiah. She had a certain fondness for Doyle. But never before had she felt the power of a merciless, consuming love.

And foolishly, she'd made the mistake of learning the depths of her heart by falling in love with a man who would never stay.