Robin Lee Hatcher (9 page)

Their heads turned. Their gazes met. There was a glimmer of light in Ingrid’s eyes, a gleam that told Rand she understood what he hadn’t been able to say, that told him she wanted the same things too. It was all he could do to keep from letting out a whoop and grabbing her and kissing her smack on the mouth. But he couldn’t do that. Not yet. He had to have something more to offer her before he proposed.

He got to his feet and held out his hand. “I better get you back before the reverend comes lookin’ for us.”

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to draw her up from the ground.

He would start work on the cabin this week.

Bethany opened the door. When she saw who stood there, her breath caught. She’d given up hope, but now he was here.

“Mr. Chandler.”

“Miss Silverton. I’m looking for Rand. His horse is tied out back.”

“He . . . he and Ingrid went for a walk. They should be back soon.”

He glanced behind him. “Maybe I’d better go back without — ”

“Don’t go.” She hated the pleading sound of her voice, but she didn’t want him to leave. “I’m sure they’ll return any minute. Won’t you wait for him here? You could sit on the porch if you like.” Before he could answer, she slipped by him, pulling the door closed behind her. “There’s more shade on the side porch.” She led the way.
Please make him follow me
.

He did.

She settled onto a cane-backed chair and took a moment to smooth the skirt of her floral-embroidered dress. Hawk chose to lean against the porch railing. Although he appeared relaxed, she sensed an undertow of tension, of power barely leashed.

“I looked for you in church this morning.”

“I told your father I wasn’t much on churchgoing.”

Disappointment sluiced through her. “Yes, I remember. But I’d hoped . . .” She let her words fade into silence.

He didn’t seem to notice.

Any moment, Rand and Ingrid could return from their walk, and once they did, Hawk would ride away with his friend. What could she do to make him notice her, to make him want to stay?

How frustrating. She hadn’t needed to do a thing to attract Mr. Richards, but she didn’t want his attentions. She wanted Hawk’s. There was something about him, something so different, so . . . so unlike any other man she’d known.

She rose from the chair and stepped to the railing, an arm’s length from where he stood. “Would you like something to drink? It’s a long ride back to your ranch.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

He was the most exasperating man. Did she have to throw herself at him?

She could hear her father’s voice of warning in her head: “A woman’s chaste and respectful behavior is her most appealing attribute, Bethany.”

Somehow she doubted Hawk would notice any behavior, good or bad. He’d scarcely looked at her since he arrived. How could he tell what her behavior was like if he didn’t look her way?

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Why don’t I see if I can find Rand and Ingrid,” she all but mumbled as she took a step away from the railing. But somehow her foot caught in the hem of her dress. She stumbled and tried to catch herself by grabbing the railing. Only it was out of reach.

Hawk caught her before she could hit the floor.

First the river, and now this. He must think her a terrible stumblebum.

He righted her, his hands holding her upper arms. He was so close she had to tip her head back in order to meet his gaze.

She didn’t know how it happened. She didn’t plan it. Never thought she would do anything so brash. But somehow she rose on tiptoes, pulled him toward her, and kissed him on the lips.

It lasted an instant.

It lasted an eternity.

Shocked by her own audacity, she drew back, covering her mouth with one hand. Her embarrassment worsened when she realized he looked more surprised than she felt.

He hadn’t wanted her kiss.

Let me die. Let me die right now
.

She whirled around and raced into the house.

TEN

On the following Saturday evening, Hawk sat in a washtub in the middle of the kitchen. He didn’t dawdle. There was no room for a man to stretch out in the round tub. With a bar of soap, he scrubbed his hair and body, then stood and poured cold water from a bucket over his head to rinse himself clean. After he was dried off and dressed again, he checked his reflection in the small mirror that hung on the wall. He needed a haircut. He should have seen the barber the last time he was in town.

“Now I must say. You’re lookin’ right pretty, Mr. Chandler.”

He turned to see Rand leaning against the doorjamb, a grin splitting his face. “If you plan to see Miss Johnson tomorrow, you’d better take a bath yourself. You smell like you’ve been tangling with a grizzly, and you don’t look much better than you smell.”

His friend laughed. “I reckon you got a point.” He didn’t move from the doorway. “You got plans in town tonight?”

“No.” Hawk raked his fingers through his hair. “Not tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“I thought I might ride in with you for church.”

“Do tell.” Rand came inside and sat at the table.

Hawk glowered at him.

Apparently his friend took note of the look for he changed the subject. “I was up on my land earlier this week. Laid out plans for the house I’m gonna build. Thought I’d get a start on it this summer. Have somethin’ to live in before the first snow maybe.”

Hawk took a seat at the table across from his friend, guessing what was coming next.

“I’m gonna ask Ingrid to marry me.”

“I thought you might. Congratulations, Rand. I’m glad for you. She seems a nice girl.” He glanced around the kitchen. “You know, I could move into the bunkhouse with the men and let you and Ingrid stay here if you wanted.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather have our own place. I figure Ingrid deserves that.”

“Sure. I understand.”

Rand stood. “Reckon I’ll go have that bath now. But I’ll just use the creek. Easier than haulin’ water, if you ask me.”

Hawk stayed at the table for a long while after his friend left, thinking about this turn of events. Anybody with two eyes could see those two were crazy about each other. He’d figured it was only a matter of time before Rand would want to tie the knot.

What he hadn’t figured on was feeling envious.

He rose, walked outside, turning when he was almost to the corral, and took a good long look at his house. It wasn’t much. A log cabin with four small rooms. Plenty enough for two cowboys who did little more than eat and sleep there. But how would it look to a woman?

Like a shack. Not the sort of place a man would bring his bride.

Against his will, he thought of Bethany. Again. He thought of that unexpected kiss. Again. Whispery soft. Unbelievably sweet. Completely innocent.

More than once this past week, he’d wished he could turn back time, that he could undo the moment when he allowed her to step away from him. If he could do it over, he would pull her close and kiss her the way a man kisses a woman. He would hold her close and never let her go.

He’d long told himself he was better off alone. What if he’d been wrong about that? And what if a woman like Bethany. . . No, not a woman
like
her. What if Bethany could be happy with him? Shouldn’t he give himself — and her — a chance to find out? Maybe the many things that should separate them weren’t as insurmountable as he’d always thought.

Bethany stood on the porch, her cheek against the post, and watched the setting of the sun. The bright orange ball seemed to rest on the peaks of the mountains, turning the dark, pine-covered slopes a fiery red. Then the sun slipped behind them. The fire-hot colors of sunset faded to a deep purple, announcing the coming of night. As the sky darkened from blue to pewter to black, she saw the first twinkling star above the tallest peak.

Hawk’s mountains. That’s how she thought of them. Beneath their shadows, he was probably getting ready to turn in for the night.

She sighed.

“What’s troubling you, dear?”

The question drew her from her thoughts. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone on the porch. “Nothing, Mother.”

“You’ve been sighing and moping all week long. Is it because your father forbade you to go riding? That will end soon. It’s been two weeks.”

“That’s not it.” Again she sighed.

“Are you unhappy in Sweetwater? Perhaps you would like us to send you back to Philadelphia. I know your grandmother or Cousin Beatrice would — ”

“I don’t want to leave Montana. I love it here.”

“Then what is it, dear? Please tell me.”

How did a girl ask her mother about love and men and . . . and kissing? She adored her mother, but somehow she couldn’t talk to her about . . . this. She couldn’t tell her that she laid awake nights thinking about kissing Hawk Chandler. She searched for something — anything — to say, as long as it wasn’t about him.

Looking at her mother, she said, “Ingrid’s in love with Mr. Howard.”

“Yes, she may be growing to love him.” Her mother rose from her chair and came to stand before her, cupping Bethany’s chin with one hand. “Is that what’s troubling you?”

“No. Not really. It’s just . . . it’s just that I was wondering. How does it feel to be in love?”

It was her mother’s turn to sigh. “Quite wonderful, dear. And sometimes quite awful.”

That was an apt description. Wonderful — and awful. “But . . . how do you know when you’re in love?”

“When it happens, you’ll know. That’s how it was with your father and me. He was always around because of his friendship with my brother, Frederick. I never gave him much thought. And then one day, after he came back from seminary, he was at our house for supper, and I looked at him across the table, and I knew I loved him. I’d grown to love him over time. That’s the best kind of love.”

“Ingrid hasn’t known Rand very long. Don’t you think their love will last?”

“Oh, my. That is how that sounded. I suppose love comes to a few rather quickly. Perhaps that is true of Ingrid and her young man. But remember, even if Mr. Howard asks Ingrid to marry him, they won’t get married in haste. They’ll have a period of engagement. That will give them time to be sure marriage is what they want. Ingrid is young, but she’s a sensible girl.”

She patted Bethany’s cheek and stepped back from her. “Your turn for love will come. One day you’ll meet the right man, someone who shares your faith and your dreams for the future. I pray that he will be as fine a man as your father.” She paused, then added, “I think it’s time we both said good night. It’s growing late, and tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Just a little longer, Mother.”

“All right, dear. But not too long.”

“I’ll be in soon. Good night.”

“Good night, dear.”

When the door closed behind her mother, Bethany turned her gaze once again to the west. She could no longer see the outline of the mountains against the inky darkness of the sky, yet she stared hungrily in their direction.

Wonderful and awful.

She couldn’t, she shouldn’t be in love with him. He didn’t match the description of the man her mother had prayed for her to find. He didn’t share her faith. If he did, he would be in church on Sundays. And how could he share her dreams for the future if she didn’t know what they were herself?

Oh, God. Do you have someone in mind for me? I fear if you don’t
that I’ ll make a terrible mess of things.

Her heart fluttered as she remembered the kiss she’d shared with Hawk on this same porch in this same spot almost a week ago.

But if it could be Hawk, Lord, I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind
at all.

ELEVEN

On Sunday morning, Hawk rode into town with his ranch hands. The brim of his black Stetson shadowed his eyes, eyes that watched for one particular person in the flow of people walking toward the tent. As he drew his horse to a halt, he saw her with her mother and Ingrid.

Bethany saw him too.

He smiled.

She didn’t.

He reined in, dismounted, and tied his horse to the hitching post. The other men followed suit.

When he turned, he found her still watching him. Her hair was mostly hidden beneath her bonnet, a satin ribbon tied in a bow near her right ear. A shawl, the same color as her eyes, was draped low across her back and through each arm. In her hands she held a Bible.