Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (7 page)

But she rested her hand in his, following his lead without hesitation until they were within ten feet of the swing.

“Open your eyes.”

She did, looking at him, her gaze so full of sweet expectation that something within him wrenched, a fierce sensation of both pleasure and pain.

He forced himself to break away from her look, and nodded toward the swing.

She looked and gasped. “Where did that come from?”

“I made it for you.” He sounded too keen. “I thought of how you enjoyed swinging with Suzette, and thought you might still enjoy swinging even if your friend can't be with you.” Did his explanation make him seem less eager? He didn't think so.

She clasped her hands to her chest and laughed. “A swing.” Her eyes were awash with tears.

Had he made her cry? The thought slammed into him. “I thought you'd like it. I can take it down if you want.”

She caught his hand. “No. It's perfect. I'm surprised and pleased that you would think to do this.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “Thank you.”

Pink stained her cheeks and she rushed away to try out the swing.

Heat flooded up his neck and stung his ears. If he'd known she'd be this grateful, he might have thought twice about putting the swing up. Shoot. Who was he kidding? He didn't mind in the least. One more stolen memory. Based on hiding the truth.

What would she say if he told her he was a Duggan?

Would she laugh and say it didn't matter? Or would she look shocked and refuse to speak to him?

He couldn't risk it.

Sybil laughed, a sound of pure joy to rival the sweetest of the bird songs he often enjoyed on lonely evenings.

“I'd forgotten how much I like this.” She swung back and forth. Each time she did, their gazes collided.

Every lonely night, every cold morning alone, every goodbye rolled and twisted at the bottom of his stomach. Each glance from her tempted the feelings upward, as if they wanted release. He fought them back. He fought his own longings and wishes. He almost lost when she tipped her head back and let her laughter roll out in time with the movement of the swing.

A soft laugh came from his lips. He leaned back on his heels and savored the moment. The memory of this evening would have to suffice for the rest of his life.

Thor, the fawn that hung around the place, trotted toward him. Dawg growled, but at Brand's command backed away and sat down.

The fawn saw Sybil swinging and jumped away in playful surprise, then chased her back and forth.

Soon Sybil laughed so hard she had to stop swinging.

The sound of their play attracted Billy and Grady, the two young boys who spent time together.

“A swing,” Grady said. “Who built it?”

“I did,” Brand replied.

Billy looked him up and down. “I thought you broke horses.”

Sybil chortled. “I guess a man can do more than one thing.” The look she gave him slid right past his brain and oozed into his heart like warm syrup.

Billy nodded. “I guess so. We used to have a swing.”

Sybil sobered. Her eyes dipped downward.

Brand tried to think why, but couldn't.

She got off the swing. “Do you boys want to have a turn?”

Grady hurried to get on.

For the next half hour, Brand and Sybil took turns pushing each boy on the swing, at the same time teaching them how to pump so they could make themselves go high.

As the boys grew more confident, Sybil and Brand sat nearby to watch.

“Did you wonder why Billy said he used to have a swing?” She told him how Billy and his brother and two sisters had been left orphaned. “Roper and Cassie found them and cared for them and later adopted them.” The foreman and his wife lived in a new house on the Eden Valley Ranch.

“It's nice to know things work out well for some children.” Brand managed to keep his voice from showing any regret that he had not been so fortunate. But it hadn't been so bad. He'd had a mother who cared for him, prayed for him and protected him to the best of her ability.

“Supper!” The call came from up the hill on one side and within seconds echoed from Roper's house.

“Coming,” the children called, and scampered away.

“I have to go, too.” Sybil smiled at Brand. “You're welcome to join us for a meal.”

He hesitated a heartbeat, then shook his head. He had already crossed too many of his boundaries. “I'll be going.”

Her smile lingered. “I can't thank you enough for the swing. It will provide hours of pleasure not only for me but for the others.” She brushed her hand over his arm. “Brand, you're a good man.” Then she turned and skipped toward the ranch house.

He stared after her, his heart swelling until it crowded against his ribs. She'd said he was a good man. Then he snorted.
Brand, it don't matter whether or not you're a good man. You are a Duggan.

Five hundred dollars. Dead or alive.

Sooner or later someone around here would see a wanted poster. Then what?

Someone would come gunning for him. But worse, far worse, he'd put Sybil in the way of danger simply by allowing a friendship between them. Danger from the Duggans. Danger from bounty hunters.

Would she believe him guilty?

Perhaps he would come right out and tell her who he was. How would she react?

He slapped his forehead. It was bad enough that he sat about expecting a woman to feed him. But now he'd crossed a line, thinking he could get away with admitting he was a Duggan. No one would believe him innocent, and just being associated with him put Sybil at risk. Cyrus wouldn't hesitate to harass or threaten her simply to get at Brand.

He knew what he must do. He returned to his campsite, saddled his horse, threw his saddlebags on the back and swung up. “Come on, Dawg.” He clamped his teeth together so hard his whole head hurt. But a man must do what a man must do.

This time he didn't leave solely to protect himself from the noose. He left to protect Sybil from the Duggan gang.

Chapter Seven

S
ybil did her best to hide her pleasure throughout the meal. If she gave it free rein she would smile from ear to ear and doubtless bring probing questions from her friends.

She stilled her impatience as they lingered over the meal and then did dishes at what seemed a leisurely pace.

All the while, her heart danced. Brand had made a swing for her. A sweet gesture that healed a deep fracture in her heart. As he'd said, she had been robbing herself of sweet memories because of the sadness when they came to an end. Every time she sat on the swing she would remember the joy of her friendship with Suzette.

And something more—a growing friendship with Brand.

What about your vow to never get close to someone again?

I haven't forgotten.

Seems you might be getting a little too fond of a certain cowboy. Have you forgotten Colin?

Of course not. I don't plan to be hurt again.

But she couldn't stop the smile that wrapped around her heart.

“I'll take a plate of food to Brand if you like,” she told Linette, keeping her voice flat, as if it didn't matter if someone else took it.

“I do wish that man would either join us or go to the cookhouse,” Linette said. “It bothers me to think of him spending every meal by himself.”

Mercy snorted. “He's had company every evening since he got here. Sybil sees to that.”

Sybil couldn't take offense at her friend's comment, because it was true. “Do you want to take the food to him tonight? I have no objection.” After all, as her inner voice had reminded her, she didn't intend to get too fond of the man.

“I'll let you do it.”

Mercy waited as Sybil filled a plate and covered it, then accompanied her down the hill. Seems Brand would have two women visiting him tonight.

Not that Sybil had any objection. Only she didn't quite convince herself of the truth of those words.

“I suppose you've been learning lots about our mysterious cowboy,” Mercy said. “Where's he from? Where does he plan to go? What's his name? I can hardly wait to read your story. Will you let me read it before you send it?”

“I'm still working on it. He isn't too eager to reveal details.” And yet she felt she'd learned so much about him. His caring mother, his Christian upbringing, his tenderness and consideration. “He built a swing.” She pointed to it.

Mercy gave a low whistle. “The children are going to enjoy that.” She shook her head. “Seems a strange thing for him to do. Kind of out of character.”

“I guess it depends on how you judge his character.”

“I see him as a tough loner, likely with a dark secret that drives him.” She turned to squint at Sybil. “Are you softening the man?”

Sybil widened her eyes. “I don't know what you mean.” But the idea pleased her.

Mercy laughed and patted Sybil's hand. “You go soften him up some more. Maybe you can convince him to settle down. I'll see you later.” She turned toward Jayne's cabin and Sybil continued onward.

She stepped into the clearing and looked to where he usually sat. “Brand?”

She swept her gaze around the clearing. No dishes. No Dawg. No Brand. Nothing. She bent over the ashes. Cold as creek rocks. She straightened. “Brand?”

His name echoed

“Brand, where are you?” She crossed the clearing and pushed through the trees to another opening that allowed her a good view to the north and west. Nothing moved except the leaves, the birds and the grass.

She retraced her steps. Surely she'd missed something to indicate where he was. She poked through the flattened grass and parted the nearby branches.

Finally she sank to the ground and faced the truth.

He was gone.

Her heart shuddered.

Not a word of goodbye.

How could it be? Less than two hours ago they had shared a special moment. Why, she'd even dared kiss his cheek.

Was that it? Did he find her too bold? Did he not want affection?

A calming thought intruded into her shock. Maybe he'd decided to join the others at the bunkhouse.

Maybe—a grin exploded on her face—maybe her sign of affection had persuaded him to abandon his reclusive ways.

She jumped to her feet, grabbed the plate, which she'd momentarily forgotten, and raced toward the ranch.

She passed Jayne's cabin and skidded to halt. Sybil could hardly rush up to the bunkhouse and ask if Brand was there. She spied Eddie talking to Slim by the corrals. She shifted direction and went toward them, standing back and waiting for a chance to talk to Eddie alone.

“Okay, boss.” Slim tipped his hat toward Sybil as he left.

“Do you need something?” Eddie said.

“I took a plate of food out to Brand.”

Eddie studied the still full plate. “I take it he wasn't hungry.”

“Uh...” Wasn't this where Eddie said Brand had eaten at the cookhouse? “He wasn't there. I thought—” She glanced toward the bunkhouse. “Maybe he joined the others.”

“No. I'm sure Slim would have said so if he did. However, he can't have gone far. He still has horses to break and he hasn't picked up his pay. Maybe he's gone hunting.”

“I suppose.” But she didn't believe it. Why would he take every belonging if he'd only gone hunting?

She scraped the food off the plate into the cat dish outside the barn, and half a dozen cats raced over to enjoy the meal Brand had missed. Mercy was likely still visiting Jayne, but Sybil didn't want to talk to anyone, and she slipped into the big house. She tiptoed past the living room so as not to attract Linette's attention. She passed the library full of books, a big desk and several reading chairs without even glancing in, and crossed the kitchen to her room, where she wilted at the edge of the bed. Despite all her fine talk to the contrary, she had let herself care too much.

When would she ever learn to guard her heart?

* * *

Dawg followed Brand, but as they put distance between them and the ranch, the dog stopped, turned back and whined.

“Yeah, I hear ya. She made me want to stay longer, too, but we just can't.” He faced forward. Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep ahead of the Duggans.

As he rode into the afternoon sun he repeated the same words over and over. But every few minutes, other thoughts intruded.

Thoughts of a golden-haired miss whose blue eyes smiled so gently at him he could almost believe she cared. But how could she? She knew nothing of him. Certainly not who he really was. Even if for some reason he stayed, he could never tell her and lose the memory of that smile.

What would it be like to return home every day to a smiling welcome?

Brand Duggan would never know.

He found a spot with a rock cliff at his back. It wasn't a bad place as far as campsites went. He'd had worse. Tomorrow he would ride to the west, find a place deep in the mountains to hole up for the winter.

But tonight his bones ached for something more comfortable than a campsite. He ached for a place of warmth and welcome and belonging.

He shot two rabbits and dressed them, burying the entrails a few feet away, then put the rabbits on a spit to roast. A little later, he ate one and gave the other to Dawg.

He missed Ma.

Home.
He dare not dream of a home of his own, shared with—

He hadn't cried for a home since the first week after he'd buried his ma. And he never let himself look back and wish for things that couldn't be his.

But tonight the ache would not leave.

Ma's oft spoken words sprang into his mind.
God will always be with us. Always guide us to a safe place. Always. We have to trust Him
.

Tonight the words wouldn't be dismissed.

He finally fell into a troubled sleep in which Pa and Cyrus chased cowboys from the ranch, while Brand tried to ride his horse through the crowd to someone beyond them. He couldn't see who it was, but terror filled him at the thought of being unable to get to the person.

He yelled at his pa to get out of the way, and his voice jerked him awake. He sat up and rubbed his face. Sweat beaded his forehead even in the cool night air.

He reached for Dawg. Found the spot empty. “Dawg?”

His senses kicked into full alert and he grabbed for his pistol. A scream rent the air and raised the hair on the back of his neck. A cougar.

“Dawg!” he bellowed. Had the fool dog gone after the animal? Dawg loved to torment cats of every size.

Brand scrambled to his feet and jammed on his boots. He grabbed up a smoldering log and trotted toward the sound, his gun ready.

A deep growl came from the dark. “Dawg, you dumb dog. Get back here.”

Brand rushed onward, struggling to see with the help of the glowing hunk of wood. Despite his hurry he didn't take any chances. He didn't want to feel the sharp claws of a mountain lion tearing him apart.

Then Dawg yelped. An awful sound that tore at Brand's heart.

He fired into the air overhead, hoping to scare off the wildcat. “Dawg, where are you?”

A whimper drew him in the right direction. In three more steps he saw the dog lying in a heap, his side torn by the mountain lion. Brand held his gun at the ready, shone his light in every direction, but saw no sign of the animal. He rushed to Dawg's side and bent over him. He was torn up bad. “How many times have I told you not to chase animals bigger than you?” Had the smell of the rabbits drawn the animal? Brand should have been more careful about disposing of the remains, but thoughts of Sybil and home had made him careless. Now Dawg had paid for it.

The dog whined and tried to lick Brand's hand.

“You just lie still. I'll take care of you.” He gingerly picked up his pet and carried him back to the campsite. He threw more wood on the fire until flames licked upward. Surely it would be enough to scare off any wild beasts that might be attracted to the smell of blood, and there was blood everywhere. “You got yourself tore up real good, didn't you?”

He warmed water and tried to clean the dog. “You're going to need stitching back together.” He couldn't do it alone. Dawg might be smart and cooperative and lots of other thing, but he'd react to being sewed up. He'd likely fight or bite or both.

“Don't ya dare die on me.” He studied the sky. How long until morning? It was impossible to tell.

He made some strong coffee, drank two cupfuls so hot it burned his tongue. Tried to get Dawg to lap a bit of water, and waited for morning.

Then he would do what he must do.

* * *

Sunday morning arrived with late summer warmth, which did nothing to ease the cold tension wrapping about Sybil's heart. She slipped out of the house just as the eastern sky flared with pink and orange and purple. She caught her breath at the beauty, then turned her steps toward Brand's campsite. No, she didn't hope he had returned. She wasn't foolish enough to harbor empty dreams. But she needed time to adjust her thinking. She'd made a mistake by opening her heart to another man. Hadn't she learned from Colin to be more cautious?

She certainly had learned this time. This lesson would not have to be repeated for it to sink into her heart.

She sat with her back against a tree and stared at the cold ashes of Brand's campfire. Eddie expected him back to finish breaking horses and get his pay, but she didn't think he'd return. No, she thought he meant to ride away and never look back. She'd known it all along and expected it, so she had no reason to feel torn and empty inside.

It was for the best. Now she could write his story and then forget him.

She wouldn't ever forget him. Despite the knowledge that he was a man without a home who lived a life of danger—someone she would do well to avoid—she had only to close her eyes to see him. His strong features, his strong hands, his—

Oh. What was wrong with her? She knew nothing about him. Not even his name. He was only a hero in a story she continued to work on. She'd brought a copy of her notes with her and bent over the pages. Soon she'd have the story ready to send to the editor.

It didn't matter that there were so many unanswered questions in her mind. The story was good without those answers, even though she ached for more.

A sound of horse hooves startled her from her thoughts. She glanced to the right.

“Brand!” She bolted to her feet. “You've come back.” Her heart threatened to explode. Her feet wanted to dance. So much for all her fine thoughts.

She sucked in a hard breath and pushed a boulder over her errant emotions. Her heart was locked solidly. Nothing would induce her to open it.

Brand didn't even bother with a hello. “It's Dawg.”

She strained forward at hearing the agony in his voice.

“He's been hurt.” Brand dipped his head toward the animal cradled in his arms.

Sybil tucked her notes in her pocket and rushed forward. Five feet away she saw the matted blood on Dawg's side. “What happened?”

“He figured he could take on a cougar. Dawg ain't too bright at times.”

“How can you say that? Poor doggie. You were just being brave, weren't you?” She closed the distance between them and reached to pat the dog's head, then hesitated, not sure where she could touch him without hurting him.

Dawg whined.

“How bad is he?”

“Bad. I need help with him. You're the only person he's ever let touch him except for me. I thought...”

She swallowed hard. “I'll do what I can to help, but I've never done anything with an injured animal.”

“You figure Eddie will let me put him in the barn?”

“Of course he will. You go on ahead. Don't wait for me. I'll get there as fast as I can.”

But Brand stayed at her side as she turned toward the ranch buildings. Knowing Dawg needed immediate attention, she lifted her skirts and trotted toward the barn, pushing open the door so Brand could duck his head and ride in.