Читать книгу The Horseman's Frontier Family - Karen Kirst - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Gideon was in the middle of assembling the pulley system when an unexpected sound mingled with the birdsong, swelling above the horses’ nickers and the breeze rippling through the high grass. Evelyn. Singing. Her smoky voice belted out a lively tune, one he didn’t recognize, in a language he didn’t understand. Her playful tone told him this was a happy song, maybe even a silly one.

Unable to resist a peek, he set aside the rope coil and wheel and, standing, went to lean against the half wall. At the stream cleaning their breakfast dishes, she serenaded the boy in an attempt to draw him out. And although Walt smiled and bobbed his head, he didn’t join in.

Yearning for what he could never have captured him in its torturous grip, and he wished them far from there. Resentment curdled his stomach. Why did they have to intrude upon his much-needed solitude?

“I see you have company,” an accented voice said from the doorway.

Gideon half turned, not surprised his friend had managed to approach without his realizing it. Lars Brinkerhoff might have been Danish by birth, but his years with the Cheyenne had molded him into an adept hunter and trapper, able to blend in with his surroundings.

“You spoke to Elijah and Clint, I take it.”

“Ja, that I did.” The big Dane nodded, cornflower-blue eyes bright with concern in his tanned face. “I am sorry to hear about this complication.”

Lars joined him at the wall, his arms poised along the roughened edge. He tipped his head in Evelyn’s direction. “Beautiful song.”

Gideon didn’t comment.

“Is the widow Russian?”

“Her ancestors are.” He dragged his gaze from her animated form to the man at his side. “Do you understand what she’s saying?”

“She is singing about a cat and mouse who, though natural enemies, have become the best of friends.”

Enemies who became friends. He’d been right. It was a ridiculous song.

“Any news on the cause of the Ramsey fire?” He sought to get his mind off the intriguing widow and onto more neutral matters.

Lars frowned deeply. “Clint and I sifted through the debris and found a kerosene container. Someone set that fire, no doubt about that.”

It was beginning to look as if the recent string of accidents weren’t accidents at all. They must be connected somehow. “Who would do this and why?”

His friend’s beefy hand settled heavily on his shoulder. “We are going to get to the bottom of this mystery. In the meantime, be on your guard. We have not been able to establish a pattern, which means any one of us is a potential target.”

Gideon ground his back teeth together. His future was already being threatened by Mrs. Evelyn Montgomery. Now he had an unknown menace to worry about?

“There is nothing to be done in this moment, but there is plenty we can do about your animals’ shelter. Winona is not expecting me for her language lesson until midafternoon. I will help you, but first, why not introduce me to your land mate?”

Land mate? While Lars’s English was very good, he had a funny way of phrasing things.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, leading the way to her tent site.

The dishes already cleaned and put away, she was now reciting the alphabet. As they drew closer, he saw that Walt was tracing letters in the dirt with a stick.

Evelyn lifted her head, her eyes going wide at the sight of his companion. He recalled his first impression of Lars, who, with his shoulder-length blond hair, fringed buckskin clothing and moccasin-style boots, looked like no one he’d ever seen.

Swiftly rising, she stepped in front of her son, blocking him from view. The protective lioness guarding her cub.

“Evelyn, this is Lars Brinkerhoff, a good friend of mine.” His only friend in Brave Rock, as Gideon wasn’t one to seek out relationships. From their first meeting shortly after their arrival in this unsettled slice of Oklahoma territory, Lars had gone out of his way to strike up a friendship. “Lars, meet Mrs. Evelyn Chaucer Montgomery.”

He wasn’t sure why he’d inserted her maiden name. His brothers would’ve told Lars about her connection to the Chaucer men, who’d made it their mission to poison the townsfolk’s minds against them.

The Dane extended his hand. Evelyn reluctantly allowed hers to be swallowed by his oversize grip, apprehension snaking across her features. Of course she would be uncertain. She was a woman alone with her enemy and his friend.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Her dark eyes shot to Gideon. The flash of vulnerability made him want to reassure her that she had nothing to fear. A pointless exercise, since she insisted on suspecting him of nefarious motives.

“Lars and his sister, Katrine, came over from Denmark ten years ago. They attend Elijah’s church.”

“’Tis true.” The blond smiled broadly and, still clasping her hand, patted it reassuringly. “We would be honored if you and your little one would join us for services.”

“I—I appreciate the invitation.” Evelyn tugged her hand free. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Lars addressed him. “Gideon, you must promise to accompany Mrs. Montgomery if she wishes to attend.”

He scowled. The Dane knew perfectly well Gideon hadn’t once stepped foot in Lije’s tent chapel. How could he, when doing so would only prod to life the latent rage inside him? God could’ve spared his daughter. That He hadn’t still hurt so deeply Gideon couldn’t even begin to process it. Instead, he boxed up his feelings and locked them up tight, hidden from the daylight, left to fester and spoil in the black caverns of his soul.

A suspicion wormed its way into his thoughts. Evelyn Montgomery was a beautiful woman, an exotic orchid among commonplace daisies. And she was available. Could Lars be interested in her?

So what if he is? A marriage between the two would solve your problem. She wouldn’t be after his land anymore.

But what about Winona Eaglefeather? When the Cheyenne woman came to Brave Rock in search of her runaway nephew, Dakota, Lars was able to communicate with her and help her locate the boy. And now that she and Dakota had decided to stay, he was teaching her English. To anyone watching the two adults interact, it was clear they’d grown close. Gideon got the impression his friend possessed deep feelings for the Native American beauty, but their differences held him back.

“Gideon?” Lars prompted, expression expectant.

Do the right thing.

“I suppose I could. If she makes up her mind to attend.”

While Lars smiled with satisfaction and Evelyn stared as if he’d suggested something scandalous, Gideon wanted to call the words back. What in the world had possessed him to agree? He absolutely could not go. If Evelyn surprised him by agreeing to Lars’s invitation, he’d deliver her to the church and wait outside to escort her home.

He knew his continued absence bothered Elijah, and he hated to cause him grief. But he couldn’t go for his brother. And he certainly wouldn’t go for her.

* * *

Evelyn handed the frog back to Walt with a distracted smile. She’d joined him in the stream while the rabbit stew she’d prepared for lunch simmered over hot coals. The cool water washing over her feet and ankles felt delicious in this sweltering heat. Modesty wasn’t an issue since Gideon and his unusual friend were engrossed in their work half a field away. Besides, she didn’t care what they thought about her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mr. Brinkerhoff mounting his horse and lifting a hand in wordless goodbye. They’d accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. The stable walls now reached Gideon’s shoulders.

Leaving the water, she quickly pulled on her stockings and boots, worked the large knot in her skirt free, and waited until the cotton cascaded to the ground to go and check the stew. When she lifted the lid, the thick broth’s succulent aroma teased her nose. Again her gaze drifted to the stable where Gideon was still hard at work. The man had no time to prepare a decent meal. And she hadn’t properly thanked him for Petra....

Acting before she could talk herself out of it, she procured a pewter bowl from her kitchenware trunk and ladled a large portion of the stew into it. “Walt.” She waited for him to look over at her. “I’m going to speak with Mr. Thornton. Don’t wander off, okay?”

Nodding, he returned his attention to the frog cradled in his palm.

The closer she got to her destination, the harder her heart worked to keep up with the blood tumbling through her veins. Calming and refreshing were not words she associated with their interactions. Gideon Thornton possessed the singular ability to irritate her with a mere look. Was it too much to hope this visit would proceed differently than their previous ones?

When she entered the rectangular structure through the double-wide opening, he was in the midst of hoisting a log onto the eastern side wall. Biceps bulging, forearms stiff with tension, he tugged a thick rope toward the floor, thereby lifting the log up into the air. His walnut-colored hair stuck to his temples and nape. Sweat trickled down the side of his neck and disappeared beneath the navy blue shirt collar. Scuffed boots planted far apart in the dirt, his muscled thighs strained the worn-in denim.

Evelyn stood mesmerized by this extraordinary display of strength. Breath locked in her lungs. She remained motionless, afraid to break his concentration lest the log come crashing down on him. It took about five minutes to complete the task. In between testing both ends to check the sturdiness, he flicked her a hooded glance, and she realized he’d been aware of her presence from the second she arrived.

The pewter warm against her palms, she raised her hands to draw attention to her offering. “I brought lunch. Do you like rabbit stew?”

Stepping down from the low stool on which he stood, he whipped off the deerskin gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. His gaze zeroed in on the bowl, then rose to her face. “I’m not a picky eater.”

When he made no move toward her, she chose to go to him. Up close, his gray eyes contained a startling wariness. What had he to fear from her? “I assure you, it’s perfectly safe to eat. I don’t make it a habit of slipping poison in my food.”

Those refined eyebrows lifted in surprise. “How about we test that theory?” Taking the bowl and spoon, he scooped up meat, onion and broth and brought it to her lips.

Stunned, her lips parted automatically, which he no doubt took as a sign of compliance.

Not a single part of him touched her, yet disturbing awareness danced along her nerve endings, resurrecting a longing for connection, for companionship and, yes, that dirty word, romance. One would’ve thought living with three brothers and, later, a husband who despised her would’ve put such naive notions to death. But there it was. Deep down where she guarded her most vulnerable secrets, she yearned to be wooed and courted, dreamed of being that one special person in a man’s life. She wanted to be loved. Truly loved for the person she was inside.

Drake had admired her physical appearance, but the attraction had faded soon after the reality of married life set in.

She swallowed with difficulty.

Gideon’s gaze was locked on her mouth, uneasiness marring his brow. Taking the spoon and bowl with him, he executed a swift turn and crossed to the corner, where he lowered himself on the stool and concentrated on the stew.

Sucking in a balancing breath, Evelyn moved in the opposite direction, knowing it was unwise to linger. The logical thing to do would be to return to her tent and leave the taciturn cowboy to his own company. But while he didn’t seem to mind solitude—indeed, seemed to prefer it—she missed teasing and debating with her brothers. Talking to herself wasn’t entertaining in the slightest.

Surveying the neatly stacked walls, she touched a hand to the wood, careful not to get a splinter. A rather long structure, the stable would be big enough for six or seven stalls. Four horses currently occupied the corral.

“You aren’t planning a typical homestead here, are you? Most settlers get seeds in the ground before starting on shelters, yet I’ve seen no sign of turned earth.” She pivoted toward him.

Head bent, he said between bites, “My plans are for a horse ranch. Ranching is all I know.”

“How do you plan to feed yourself? Don’t you like vegetables?”

He raised his head at that, and his cool gray eyes were flat. “I don’t have a family to worry about. It’s just me. I could care less what I eat, as long as it’s filling.”

Evelyn was suddenly curious why he didn’t have a wife. Why there weren’t smaller versions of Gideon Thornton running around. She knew better than to ask such a personal question. Even if she hadn’t glimpsed pain in him, she recognized his desire for privacy.

“I will say,” he continued as his spoon scraped the bowl, “this is one fine stew. You’re a good cook.”

Despite the fact he’d already established his low standards where food was concerned, Evelyn couldn’t ignore the pleasure his simple praise evoked. Such compliments were rare. Sure, her brothers grunted their thanks as they dug into the meals she prepared, but actual words of affirmation were few and far between.

Smoothing damp palms along her skirt front, she lowered her gaze to the reddish dirt at her feet. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for sharing with me.”

He rose and walked toward her, every step a warning striking her brain. Danger. Keep away. Any kind word at this point in her life was a heady thing. Coming from this man, it had the power to generate traitorous thoughts. His rugged appeal, the restrained energy rippling along his muscles, the scent of leather and campfire clinging to his skin and hair drew her.

Gideon Thornton is off-limits.

As he transferred the empty bowl to her hands, his warm, calloused fingers skimmed her knuckles. Sizzling heat penetrated bone and flesh. When she imagined what those hands would feel like cradling her face, she knew she had to act fast.

“You’ve done a remarkable job here. It’s good to know my animals will have a solid shelter once you’re gone.”

Breath hissed between his teeth. His jaw hardened to stone.

Bull’s-eye. She was safe.

“I’m not the one who’ll be leaving,” he said, his eyes narrowing to slits. “This is my land. I’ll do whatever it takes to hold on to it.”

“Whatever it takes? Even if that means circumventing the law?”

His hands fisted at his sides, he closed his eyes. His lips moved silently, as if he were ordering himself to be calm. Then his eyes bored into her. “You and your brothers can spread all the poisonous lies you want about me, but I know I’m no liar. I’m not a thief. And I don’t have to prove myself to you or anyone else in this town. The judge’s opinion is the only one that matters.”

Evelyn attempted to absorb his words. Passion rang in his voice. Sincerity blazed in his eyes. He was either an adept actor...or he was telling the truth. And if he wasn’t lying, then someone else was.