Where the Heart Leads (22 page)

“Aumaleigh, away from that sink right now!” Hazel bustled into the kitchen, looking healthier than she had in a while. “You’re a guest and I won’t have you touching one single dish.”

“Too late. I’ve touched more than one.” Aumaleigh plunged her hands into the steaming wash water and began scrubbing the glassware. “Go back in the dining room, Hazel. Spend time with your son and new daughter-in-law.”

“Forget the in-law part. She’s a daughter. My daughter.” Hazel teared up, her chin wobbling with the strength of her emotions. “I love that niece of yours. Just love her.”

“Which is why you’re going to turn back around and leave me to do the clean-up.” She used the no-nonsense tone she reserved for bossing the cowboys around. “You’re Iris’s mother now. Go celebrate with her.”

“When you put it like that, how can I say no?” Hazel wrung her hands. “You’re a wily one, Aumaleigh.”

“I try. Now I’m right, and you know it. Go on. Leave.”

“We’re family now.” Hazel waggled her finger, a woman not to be ignored. “I’ll get you back for this. The next family get-together, I’m doing the dishes.”

“If that makes you happy.” Family. That word mattered to her. Big time. “Save me a piece of cake, would you?”

“I’ll make sure it’s one with lots of frosting flowers!” Hazel disappeared through the archway and Aumaleigh returned to washing the glasses.

The click, click, click of dog paws padded across the kitchen. Fluffy cocked her head, lifting her fuzzy, floppy ears and studying Aumaleigh with melty-chocolate eyes.

“Begging for food? Really?” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Didn’t you get enough from the girls feeding you under the table? Don’t think I didn’t see that.”

“Are you still talking to animals?” Gabriel ambled in. “That brings back memories.”

“Yes, of you talking to your horses.” Aumaleigh braced herself. Maybe, if she were lucky, her heart would turn to stone and she wouldn’t feel anything for him. Not one thing. “Don’t act as if I’m the only one around here who does it.”

“Oh, I reckon it’s a family trait. I saw your Rose chattering away to her horse—”

“Wally,” Aumaleigh supplied, slipping the sparkling clean glass into the rinse water.

“And then there was Daisy whispering to her horse while her husband tethered him out front.” He sauntered over, closing the distance between them.

“That would be Marlowe.” Aumaleigh plunged the dishcloth into the depths of the glass she was scrubbing and swished it around. “The girls rented Marvin and his brother Marlowe when they first got here. The animals were so sad and downtrodden, they didn’t have the heart to turn them back.”

“And so they kept them and spoiled them.” He grabbed the dishtowel from the counter and sidled up next to her. “That sounds familiar too.”

“You’re thinking of Primrose.” She yanked the dishcloth out of the glass, aching at the loss of that sweet mare. “She died of old age, dear thing.”

“She had a good life, thanks to you.” He plucked the clean glass out of the rinse water and started drying it. “You saved her from a life of abuse from that neighbor of yours.”

“He charged me three times what she was worth. It was my entire savings, but she was worth every penny.” She steeled herself against the memories that rose up—of petting Primrose on the street that day, realizing the handsome new man in town was watching her across the street, of feeding the mare carrots with Gabriel at her side, of racing the horse barebacked through the field, with tears in her eyes, upset by her parents—

No more memories, Aumaleigh.
Maybe if she didn’t remember, then she wouldn’t start wanting him now.

“You’ve done a pretty good job drying that glass.” She plopped another clean one into the rinse water, changing the subject. “Can’t say I’ve seen a man do better.”

“It’s a gift.” He shrugged, feigning humility. “Folks tell me I’m great, but really it’s a skill that comes naturally.”

Don’t laugh, Aumaleigh.
She bit her bottom lip. “Good. Maybe I should leave you to do the dishes and go have a piece of cake.”

“Maybe. It’s good cake.” He took the glass she was washing and slipped it into the rinse water. “But stay here and talk with me.”

That was the last thing she wanted—and the thing she wanted most. “Tell me again why you’re here?”

“I’m family. But mostly because Rose insisted. She said it would be good for Leigh to come and spend more time with their friends. And she’s right, Leigh is a social butterfly. It’s not good for her to be isolated on my farm.”

“Surely you knew I would be here.” She worked the dishcloth around the tines of several forks, refusing to look at him.

“That’s why I spent so much time outside watching everyone else arrive.” He took the forks from her. They were clean enough.

She just didn’t want to let go. “You were trying to avoid me.”

“I heard you were already inside, helping with the set-up and the dress.”

The dress. Her chest seized up. It was impossible not to remember, not to stop the memories. The lace he’d bought for her, that adorned the bodice. The pearls she’d saved for, each stitch she’d made. The lace she’d tatted late at night when she should have been sleeping, imagining her life as Gabriel’s wife.

She cleared her throat, but her voice sounded scratchy, not at all like her own. “I had to make a few alterations. Iris is a little taller than me, so I had to sew on a ruffle on the skirt and lace on the sleeves.”

“You would have been beautiful in it. Just so you know.” He said nothing more, drying the forks with practiced ease as if he knew his words got to her, just pierced her deep inside.

What was there to say to that? She wanted to be angry at him for never forgiving her. She tried to tell herself she wanted the type of man she could trust.

But they were terribly young back then, still growing their characters, still becoming the people they were meant to be. Words from the letter she’d found in her mother’s things, words he’d written to her long ago.
Falling in love with you changed me, made me the man, husband, father and now soldier I am today. I regret ending things the way we did. Neither of us deserved that hurt. I wish you a happy life. I hope you can think of me fondly and not with regret.

Those words pulled at her now, overwhelming her. “This is hard, isn’t it?” He took the wet dishcloth from her and set it aside.

His fingers were big and hot against hers, and his hands engulfed hers, cradling them, and everything vanished. The room, the floor, the conversations coming in from the dining room—until there was just him, just the two of them, hearts beating as one.

“Yes, this is quite difficult.” She had to agree. With her heart this open, exposed against her will, she had no choice. “It’s painful to remember.”

“And impossible to forget.” He nodded as if he knew. “Have you at least stopped hating me?”

“I suppose the truce you asked for has been a success.” What flickered to life inside her, felt too fragile and frightening to let him see. She pulled her hands from his, and he let them go gently, but his gray gaze was shielded, hiding so much from her.

Once, she could read him like a book. Now there was too much unknown about him, that span of decades she knew little to nothing about. She cleared her throat, determined to be just as much of a mystery. “We’re on neutral ground.”

“I’d like something more than that.” He grabbed the glasses sitting dry and clean on the counter and opened cupboard doors until he found the spot to put them away. “Can we try to be friends?”

“Friends? Isn’t that a tall order?”

“Maybe.” He held his feelings still, refusing to let them fall. Romancing her when they’d been young had been easy and as natural as breathing. This time around, he could see he would really have to work for it.

But he’d gotten this far.

Footsteps and voices came closer, breaking the moment. He would have liked to talked more about this to her, but he was glad he’d had this chance. Little wisps of curls had worked free from her artfully done up hair, falling in airy, dark curls that brushed against her soft skin. Tenderness dug deep, tenderness he had to hide as he yanked out drawers looking for where the forks went.

“Got to get back,” Zane Reed was saying. The strapping, former bounty hunter was a likable guy, the kind that drew your instant respect.

“I’m riding out tonight, after I get my girls home.” Beckett managed the ranch for Aumaleigh, and he looked good at his job. He radiated integrity and was easy to like. “Gabriel. Maybe you’d like to ride with us.”

“What’s going on?” He put away the forks and closed the drawer. “I heard some talk about volunteering.”

“Are you a good tracker?” Zane wanted to know. He stood at the kitchen door, pulling on his duster. “If so, then grab your coat and come with me.”

Aumaleigh nodded at him, as if she were eager to get him out of the kitchen. “I’ll take Leigh home and get her in safely.”

“Okay. I’ll get my coat.”

Aumaleigh didn’t look at him again, standing at the counter, meticulously washing the spoons over and over. He’d gotten to her, he could see that.

The stars were shining like jewels in the sky, glittering and twinkling. Junior shivered in the cool night. If only he could reach up and grab one, they’d be rich enough to afford dinner, a warm place for the night and a horse to run with. If he ran far enough, maybe then he could get away from that sick feeling inside his stomach. That, horrible, squishy feeling that he’d done something terrible.

The image of Iris haunted him—every time she smiled. The spring in her step. How her bakery always gave him free samples. He’d give anything right now to be able to walk down Main Street and open her bakery’s door. She would smile and welcome him and offer him a cookie.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Once she knew what he’d done, she would hate him as much as he used to hate her. Shame crept through him. He couldn’t stand to think how Iris would look at him now.

“Junior! Are you keepin’ a good watch?” Giddy strutted out of the thick shadows of the forest and into the clearing around the line shack. “I practically sneaked up on you. If I were one of those rotten deputies, I could have shot you dead and you’d never have known.”

That only reminded him of the sheriff. Junior’s stomach felt even worse. “Sorry, Giddy. I was keepin’ an eye out, honest. I’m just too hungry.”

“I got some stuff. Just wish it was more.” He sat down on a stump and opened the gunnysack he carried.

There wasn’t much in it, but it smelled good. Junior grabbed a half-eaten roll, a little mushy from sitting in gravy, and shoved it into his mouth.

“I went through the ranch kitchen’s garbage.” Giddy dug out a partly eaten roll for himself. “Snuck up in the shadows against the house. I was doin’ good, too, until a woman came out with a broom thinking I was a raccoon.”

Junior didn’t answer. He was too busy chewing. “Next time I’ll go. I’m pretty sneaky.”

“I’d better do it.” Giddy took a leisurely bite of his roll. “That way I can get the lay of the land. That lousy sheriff set us back. I had the route all scoped out. Figured out how to get into that old lady McPhee’s house at night without making a sound. Picked out my way, so I could hide my tracks the best. Now I gotta start all over again.”

“The ranch is right down there. I can see one of the barns from here.” Junior swallowed and dove into the gunnysack, grabbing a handful of what felt like mashed potatoes. He stuffed it into his mouth—yep, mashed potatoes and gravy. Peppered just right, too. “We can steal some kerosene from the kitchen. Look how dark it is at night. We creep in, douse the house and barn and light ‘em up.”

“A fire?” Giddy took another bite of his roll. “What good will that do? They’ll just rebuild.”

“But it’ll cost ‘em. They’ll lose all their horses and look at all the equipment they’ve got. That’ll hurt them. You know it will.” He dug in for another handful of mashed potato.

“It ain’t enough. Did you see how fast them McPhee sisters replaced the furniture we took? I’ve been sniffing around. Playing poker in the feed store those few times, I asked questions. And I learned some things.”

“What things?”

“There was a big inheritance. Bigger than what those barns and horses would cost.”

“I don’t know, Giddy. Them horses are expensive. Pa said he was promised ‘em. And if he can’t get his share of them, when he was the one who raised ‘em, no one should. Remember when he said that? It was when we was done with our supper at the prison. He looked us both in the eye and asked for our solemn vow. He asked me to do him proud, Giddy.”

Junior stared down at the glop of gravy and potato stuck to his hand. His chest ached, remembering the moment when his father had needed him, when his pa had hugged him—a
real
hug.

Tears burned behind Junior’s eyes and he hated being so soft, but through his whole life, that’s all he’d ever wanted. His pa to love him.

“You’re not gonna get soft on me, are you?” Giddy took possession of the gunnysack, keeping it all to himself. “Pa is counting on us. I know he wanted one thing, but I’ve been planning a lot. This way is better. We get the money out of the old lady, and run off. We can buy men to break Pa out of jail. Then the three of us can go anywhere in style. It’ll be first-class for us all the way. Just think of it, Junior.”