Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (21 page)

“No.” He gripped her shoulders, ducking his head until they were eye level. “You didn’t ask for this, Lonnie. Not for one moment do you deserve this.” Jebediah glanced to the children who cuddled on the blanket, the tin of cookies at Addie’s side. “But sometimes God puts us into the hot water. And when we’re in the middle of it, it’s almost impossible to bear.” He shook his head slowly, face grave. “Why He does that, I’m not sure. But you’re gonna be stronger for it.” His eyes bore into hers, and he shook her shoulders with a gentle strength. “You’re gonna get through this.”

“How do you know?” Apron clutched, she wadded it beneath the weight of broken hopes. “Was I a fool, Jebediah? Was I wrong to trust him?”

“No, Lonnie. You’re anything but a fool. He loved you.” Jebediah spoke the last words slowly, each one deliberate. Coupled with the honesty in his eyes, the words brought a fresh wave of emotion bubbling up
inside Lonnie. “That man still does. He loves you with everything he has. I know it. God was working in that man’s life.”

“He was.” The words seemed to break as they fell from her tongue, but she believed them. “I saw it every day. He was changing.” Gideon O’Riley, the man who had once cared about no one but himself, was changing every day for her and for Jacob. She knew it in her heart of hearts to be true. But now he was gone. Lonnie locked her trembling hands together and sent up a prayer—no, a plea—that God would fill the void inside her with His strength.

Gideon knew that sleep was fooling him, but he clung with all his might to the world he saw. Plaid skirts billowed around her form as Lonnie set down a shallow pan. Icy water sloshed over the edge. A crow flew overhead, and she arched her neck, lifting her face to the thick row of river birch at the edge of the water. Morning dew glistened all around as Lonnie rolled the cuffs of her blouse past cream-colored wrists.

Gideon’s hand twitched as if to trace his fingers there.

The crow called again.

Startled, Gideon opened his eyes.

It took him a moment, searching the ceiling, to recognize the dark wood, the narrow walls. Lonnie faded. The nightmare of the situation made his heart sink.

He rolled onto his side and stared at the dark window. The gray sky hinted that the sun was not long from rising. Gideon closed his eyes and tried to bring Lonnie’s image back. The light brightened. He reached over and, from the pocket of his shirt that he’d tossed to the floor, pulled out her ribbon. He fingered the tattered fabric.

That was all he had left of her. Yellow calico. As it always did, it struck him like a blow to the gut. It was not the first time the realization had come to him, but this time it was final. There was no way
around it. It was all he would ever have. She would not change to him. She would not grow with the seasons as he would. Forever in his heart and mind she would be the wife of his youth. Eighteen-year-old Lonnie. Jacob too. The boy would never seem to age beyond the baby who crawled about, causing mischief for his ma and pa. He would grow older in Gideon’s mind, but never in his memories.

Though it pained him, he tucked his hand beneath his pillow, fighting the urge to lift the ribbon to his nose. It was no use. Her scent was gone. It had already faded away. Sitting up, he forced himself to face the day. With a soft groan, he left the comfort of the mattress and stood before the window. The sky was lighter now, the sun just peeking through the trees.

He turned and leaned against the windowsill. The room was bright enough now that he could make out the figure lying in the bed. When Cassie rolled onto her side, he held his breath. What would she think if she found him watching her? Her eyelids fluttered but remained closed. Her hand slid across the white sheet and rested beneath her cheek. The messy hair draped over her shoulder lay dark against the pale sheets, dark against skin the color of cream.

As if sleep had chased away her boldness, her peaceful expression kept his eyes on her face. How many times had he watched her sleep? Gideon blinked. His heart twisted in his chest. She was beautiful. Only a blind man could disagree. Needing to be free of the cramped room, he dressed quickly and left without a sound.

He grabbed his oilcloth coat and hat. The trees were still and quiet, the sky a mind-numbing blue. A trio of birds darted overhead. Their black wings glinted in the bright sun. It brought him no peace. None of it did. Nothing made sense but the cold that bit at his bare hands.
Gideon stuffed his arms through his coat and pressed his hat over his hair. He needed space.

His boots carried him toward the barn, and without checking to see if he was being watched, he flung the door open. With not so much as a glance over his shoulder, he moved to the farthest stall where the second of the Allans’ horses stood, black tail swishing. The horse glanced at him, large eyes almost curious. Knowing.

Gideon reached up and yanked a bridle from its peg. He flung a saddle blanket over the stall and reached for the latch. Time to put some distance between him and his troubles, and the sooner the better. Whether he owned the beast or not. He unlatched the stall, moved toward the gelding, and slid his palm up the horse’s muscular neck. He slid the bridle over the long, chestnut nose and gently pressed the bit between two rows of broad white teeth. “Thatta boy.” His hands moved to the buckle, the permanence of his reality driving a wedge into his gut.

“Come to steal a horse?”

Gideon jerked his head up to see Jack standing in the doorway.

“Or are you just tired of female company?” Jack grunted out a laugh. He moved to the edge of the stall, hitched his boot on the lowest rail, and draped his wrist on the top.

Gideon moved his eyes back to the beast and gave the brown coat one final stroke. “Little bit of both,” he admitted.

“You weren’t going to ask, were you?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Liar.”

Gideon chuckled, the sensation foreign of late. “Don’t worry.” He pulled the bridle off and hung it up. He moved back for the blanket. “Your horse is safe.”

“You know what they’d think.” Jack studied him. His eyes were serious, but his posture still dangled slack on the stall as if he couldn’t have cared less.

“That I’m running away,” Gideon said flatly.

Jack screwed his mouth to the side and lifted his eyebrows. He stepped into the stall, picked up a bristle brush, and worked long strokes down the horse’s sleek back.

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” Gideon pulled his hat off, sifted through his hair, then slid it back on.

“Of course you’re not.” Jack grabbed the bridle from its peg. He thumbed the smooth leather, eyes down. Finally, with a slow lift of his chest, he stepped around the animal. With quiet movements, he slid it over the horse’s face.

“What are you doing?” Gideon tapped his knuckles on the stall.

“Gettin’ ’im ready.”

Gideon’s hand stilled. “But your brothers. Your pa.”

Jack draped the saddle blanket over the horse’s broad back. “It’s not their horse.” He settled the burgundy mat squarely, followed by a quilted pad. “Besides. Someone around here needs to show you that there’s a sane one among this lot. We’re not all ogres with shotguns.” The saddle creaked when he lifted it from the stand, and with a grunt Jack hefted it onto the horse’s back.

“What about Cassie?” Gideon stepped in to help.

“Cassie’s made her own choices in life. She’s a big girl.” Jack gripped the pommel, straightening the saddle while Gideon buckled the girth beneath the horse’s belly.

“How do you know I won’t steal it?”

Jack chuckled. “Because then I’ll have my own reason to shoot
you.” He patted the gelding’s rump. “His name’s Abel and he’s mine. Bring him back in one piece, all right?”

Gideon nodded once, sobered by the man’s faith in him. “I promise.” For the first time in weeks, Gideon took a deep, thorough breath. The cool air lifted his lungs, an invisible weight shifting. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” His voice nearly hitched, so desperate was he to be free of this place.

Jack moved to a trunk. The heavy lid groaned when he lifted it, and he pulled out an armful of riding gear. “Might as well make a day of it.”

“Git on up!” Abel scaled the steep slope. The
clop, clop
of his shod hoofs and the creaking of leather were the only sounds to be heard. They scaled the hill, and the land leveled out into a broad, flat valley. Gideon glanced around. Nothing but open land for miles. He pulled his hat off and used it to shove his hair back before settling it into place. He moved the mount along a stand of trees, the road beneath him unfamiliar. Untested.

And the urge to run hit him like a blow to the chest.

His eyelids nearly fluttered closed. A handful of days and he could be at the Bennetts’ door. Lonnie’s familiar form in his arms. Her scent. Her tears. His hand gripped the reins tighter when a burn threatened to clamp his throat shut. His son.

Gideon gently tapped his worn-out boots into Abel’s side, and the horse broke into a trot. A tumble of clouds shifted in front of the sun. The air cooled. Gideon tugged his coat tighter, the oilcloth smooth in his fingers. Moments passed as light danced with shadow before the sun
broke free. It hit Gideon’s face in a burst of warmth, and he tilted his chin up, wishing he could ride toward it.

Ride toward it and never stop.

Not until he reached his bride. And in her hands he could place the tattered remains of his heart. For she was the only one who could mend it.

Though Gideon kept his eyes down when Cassie pushed a small plate of biscuits in front of him, he couldn’t help but notice the scent of lilac she left in her wake. He’d bet everything he owned that she’d dabbed the fragrant water along her collarbone while dressing. A memory of her he wished away with every fiber in his being.

He pressed his tongue in his cheek when her hip bumped the table in passing, apron strings bouncing. He caught his coffee cup before it tumbled from the table and into his lap. Hot droplets scalded his hand. That woman.

Finally sitting, she flashed him a smile. “Ham?” She tipped the pan toward him.

He lifted his plate without speaking. He knew what game she was playing at, and he wasn’t about to take part.

A biscuit steamed when he broke it in half. A knifeful of blackberry jam and he folded it back over itself. He licked the tip of his thumb before sliding the jar in Cassie’s direction.

“Thank you.”

He gave her a halfhearted nod.

“I was thinking that maybe we’d get some chickens. It would be so nice to have eggs.”

He stuck out his bottom lip.

Blue eyes shot heavenward for the briefest of moments. “Are you really not talking to me?”

He chewed and swallowed, then reached for his coffee. “It doesn’t really seem like there’s a whole lot to say.”

“Well, when our conversation consists of you grunting and making faces, then no, there’s not a whole lot to say.”

“Fine.” He straightened, folded his hands, and rested his forearms on the table in front of him. With nothing but the small surface between them, he nearly towered over her. Her eyes widened slightly.

“Good morning, Cassie. How did you sleep?”

“Now you’re just mocking me.”