Robin Lee Hatcher (18 page)

“You’re gettin’ married?” Sawyer looked from Libby to Remington.

Remington nodded, his expression somewhat grim. “What do you think about that? Is it okay with you?”

Sawyer thought that was a dumb question. “’Course it’s okay. It’s what I’ve been prayin’ for.”

“You have?” Libby said, surprise in her voice.

“Well, sure. You need each other. Anybody can see that.”

Sometimes, Sawyer reckoned, grown-ups didn’t have more sense than one of those sheep out in the paddock.

Eighteen

THE STEEP SLOPE OF THE mountain caused the horses to lunge as they made their way up to the plateau. Remington felt the strain on his wound as he stood in his stirrups and leaned forward over Sundown’s neck. But when they reached the top, he decided the climb had been worth the added discomfort.

The plateau, with its bluff that fell away suddenly, provided a panorama of the surrounding countryside. Wide swaths of green grass covered the lowlands, a ribbon of water winding down the center. Rugged mountains, heavily wooded, stood sentinel on three sides of the valley. From this vantage point, Remington could see the rooftops of the house and barn at the Blue Springs.

“Look at the birds in that tree!” Sawyer shouted. “There must be a hundred of ’em.”

Remington and Libby watched the boy as he ran across the clearing, stopping beneath the tall pine. Its mossy arms danced as blue jays, dozens of them, hopped from limb to limb.

Remington’s gaze shifted to Libby. She wore a soft expression, one of tender loving, one that reminded him of her mother. Anna Vanderhoff had worn a similar expression when she told Remington about her missing daughter.

He suddenly wished he could tell Libby what her mother had said, about the love that had shone so clearly in her eyes. He wished he could give Libby that comfort, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

Libby faced the bluff and pointed. “That’s Bevins’s spread over there. The house doesn’t look like much from here, but it’s as close as a person gets to a mansion in these parts. I think Bevins fancied himself a country gentleman when he had it designed. You’d never guess it was built for a bachelor with no children.”

Remington found the large white house, far in the distance, set up against a hillside.

Turning and pointing again, Libby continued. “That’s the Fisher farm down there, near the creek, and over that ridge is Pine Station.”

“How much of this land belongs to the Blue Springs?”

“From there”—once more she pointed—“on up to the pass through those mountains. But the flocks are only here for a few months of the year, at lambing and shearing time. We summer in the upper valleys toward the lake country. For a good portion of the winter, we take them farther south. Not that we have to worry as much about the feed situation, now that our flock’s so small.”

“We’ll buy more sheep.”

“There’s no money for that. Not after losing the wool crop. We’ll stop selling lambs to be butchered and rebuild the flock that way.”

Hearing the weariness in her voice, Remington laid his arm around her shoulder and drew her against his side. “We’ll work it out.”

She looked at him, and he saw realization dawn in her eyes. “I don’t have to do this alone, do I?”

He shook his head.

Libby laid her head against his shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to leave, even for a few weeks.”

“You won’t be alone. I plan to hire more help before I go.”

“We can’t afford any more hands.”

“You let me worry about that. I’ve got enough to pay wages for a few months. That includes McGregor and Aberdeen.”

“Remington, I can’t let you—”

This time he pulled her around to face him, tipping her head back so their eyes could meet. “Maybe
you
can’t, Libby, but
we
can. This is our future. Yours and mine and Sawyer’s. We’re in this together, and we’ll make it work together.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, and it was as if he could look into her past, could see how frightened she’d been at times, how lonely. He wanted to make her forget it all. He wanted to make everything perfect for her from this day forward.

A tremulous smile curved the corners of her mouth.

Remington kissed the tip of her freckled nose. When he straightened, he said, “Now, Miss Blue, we’ve got plans to make. When is it we need to take those supplies up to McGregor?”

“Soon . . . but, Remington, it’s a long ride. Are you sure your leg is healed enough to—”

“Are you always going to fuss over me like this, Libby?”

Whatever she might have answered was silenced by a cry of alarm from Sawyer. Remington and Libby whirled toward the sound and saw a cloud of dust rising above the rim of the bluff.

“Sawyer!” Libby raced toward the edge.

Remington was only a step behind her. He grabbed hold of her arm, then looked down. With both hands, Sawyer clung to a large tree root that protruded from the cliff, and it looked as though he’d found a toehold on a narrow ridge below him.

“Sawyer! Are you hurt?” he called down.

“N–no. I . . . I d–don’t think s–so.”

“Hang on. We’ll get you.” He glanced at Libby. She was as pale as bleached sheeting. “Sit down,” he said, afraid that if she didn’t, she would be the next one to tumble over the side. Once she obeyed, he hurried toward Sundown. He removed the rope from the saddle, then led the horse back to the ridge.

“Sawyer, I’m making a loop in the rope and lowering it down to you. You grab hold of it and put it around you, under your arms. Okay? Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lord,” Libby prayed softly, “protect Sawyer. Don’t let him fall. Send Your angels to hold him steady.”

Remington would welcome the aid of a few heavenly warriors right about now. He twisted the rope, tightening the knots and testing them several times before he secured one end around the pommel of Sundown’s saddle, then stepped toward the edge again and looked over.

“Here comes the rope, Sawyer. Don’t try to grab for it. Let it come to you.” He lowered the rope until it was within reach. “Okay. It’s just above your right shoulder. Let go with one hand and take hold of it. Sawyer? Can you hear me?”

“I . . . I can’t l–let go. I’m too . . . too scared.”

The ledge holding Sawyer’s feet began to crumble, tiny pebbles tumbling away.

Libby got to her feet. “Bring up the rope, Remington. You’ll have to lower me down after him.”

“What?” He turned his gaze on her.

“I’m small and light.” Fear had left both her expression and her voice. “You and Sundown can get me down before Sawyer loses his grip and still be able to pull us back up.”

He wanted to refuse her. He wanted to tell her he forbade her to go down the side of that cliff, risking her life. But he couldn’t argue because time was too precious.

God, help us.

Libby leaned forward. “Hang on, Sawyer. I’m coming down. Just hold tight.”

The hemp rope pinched the flesh beneath her arms through her shirt as Libby was lowered over the side of the bluff. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she felt short of breath. If she was this frightened with a rope tied safely around her, she could imagine how terrified Sawyer must be, clinging tenaciously to that insubstantial root.

She forced herself to sound calm. “I’m almost there, Sawyer. Can you see me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I c–can s–see you, Libby.”

“Good. Just keep your eyes on me.”
Jesus, help me reach
him in time.

She continued to walk down the face of the rocky cliff, her hands gripping the rope. How, she wondered, could such a slender bit of hemp support not only her weight but Sawyer’s too?

“Here I am, Sawyer. I’m right beside you.”

The boy bravely tried to joke. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I’ve just been waitin’ for you, Libby.”

“I know you have.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “Now, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. I’m going to wrap my arms around you like this.” She slipped her arms around his chest, clasping her wrists. “You let go of that root and grab hold of the rope. Go on. Let go. I’ve got you.”

She’d begun to wonder if he would do it when she felt his weight shift into her arms. Without her instructing him to do so, he twisted so they were face-to-face. His legs wrapped around her waist, easing the strain on her arms.

“Pull us up, Remington!” she shouted.

An eternity later, her gaze moved from the rocky face of the bluff to the flat surface of the plateau. She saw Remington as he led Sundown away from the ridge, and no sight had ever looked more wonderful to her.

“We’re here, Sawyer,” she whispered, giving the boy a little push to heft him onto the ground. A moment later she lay beside him, hugging him to her, this time in relief. “Don’t you ever frighten me like that again, Sawyer Deevers. You understand me?”

“I won’t.”

She freed her iron grip on him and sat up. Remington joined them and knelt on the ground nearby.

“You all right, Sawyer?”

The boy nodded.

Remington turned his gaze on Libby. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

Then he pulled them both into his embrace, whispering, “Thank God.” He kissed Libby on the cheek, then grinned at Sawyer, and said, “Let’s go home.”

Nineteen

“ANNA!” NORTHROP BELLOWED AS HE stared at the telegram in his hand. He stormed out of his office, striding quickly to the sitting room. He found his wife with her needlework in hand. “When did this come?”

Her eyes widened. “What is it, Northrop?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Anna. You know good and well what it is. It’s a telegram from Mr. Walker, and it was buried beneath other papers on my desk. Papers I placed there days ago.”

Her voice softened to a whisper. “I’m sorry, Northrop. Perhaps it arrived while I was in the rose garden.”

His eyes narrowed. There was a time when he knew when she hid the truth from him. But lately . . .

“Women!” he muttered, thinking not just of Anna but also of Ellen and Olivia.

He folded the telegram in half, then folded it again as he turned his back on her. She wouldn’t beat him at this game. Anna
was mistaken if she thought she could best him.

And so was Olivia.

His daughter would return to this house, and she would do her duty. Her disobedience had cost him a small fortune in fees to incompetent detectives. It cost him the railroad he coveted. Worse yet, it made him the laughingstock of his peers, although they were wise enough never to let him see their amusement.

He swung around to face his wife. “I
will
be obeyed.”

Anna shrank back in her chair, as if fearing he would strike her. But he preferred more enjoyable ways of torturing Anna.

He took a few steps toward her and waved the folded telegram in her face. “Don’t fool yourself. I will find Olivia, and she’ll be sorry she defied me.” He shoved the paper into his pocket.

Anna’s cheeks lost all color. “Let her go, Northrop. You have your railroad now. You don’t need her to—”

“Do you think you know what I need?” Two more steps carried him to her chair. He reached down and pulled her to her feet, gripping her by the upper arms. “Do you think you can tell me what to do?”

“Northrop.” She looked straight into his eyes, with a resolve he’d not seen in her before. She did not try to pull away, but kept her shoulders square, her voice calm but firm. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

Her demeanor took him aback. Surprising even himself, he released his hold on her arms.

She stepped away from him immediately. “Good night, Northrop.” With calm elegance, she picked up her embroidery basket and left the room.

He could have forced her to stay. He could have beaten her into submission. But instead he returned to his office where he intended to consume a great deal of brandy while contemplating his next course of action.

Remington, Libby, and Sawyer set out for the sheep camp early in the morning, a few days after Sawyer’s fall. Pete Fisher had agreed to keep an eye on the place while they were gone, milking Melly and feeding the dogs and other livestock.

They rode hard, leading packhorses loaded with supplies for the herders. Remington insisted his leg was well enough to withstand the ride, but by late afternoon, Libby could see the discomfort etched in his face. She knew he would never suggest stopping for the night. He would want to continue, hoping to reach the camp before nightfall. But Libby doubted they would. It had been nearly a month since her last trip up here, and the flock would have pushed farther north and east by this time.