Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (22 page)

Sybil broke away from them and rushed to her room, buried her face in her pillow and wept.

Her friends followed her.

“I'm sorry,” Linette said. “I didn't mean to be insensitive.” Her footsteps tapped away down the hall. But not Mercy's.

Sybil wished she would go away and leave her to wallow in her misery, but instead Mercy sat beside her. “What happened?”

Sybil sat up and wiped her eyes. “I made a foolish mistake.” She pointed at the notes about Brand.

Mercy barely glanced at them. “So?”

“He found these pages by accident. I meant to show him a story I had written about two little boys wanting to break wild horses. I don't know how these papers got mixed in. How could I have been so careless?”

“You're saying he wasn't happy about it? Why not? I'd think he'd be flattered.”

Sybil kept her gaze on the pages, afraid if she looked at Mercy she'd be reduced to a fresh flood of tears. “I guess he thought I only cared about him to get more information.”

“Did you?”

“No, of course not!” Then her defenses deflated. “Maybe a little at first, but just to start with.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don't know.” She tossed the offending papers into her drawer. “I should have never come here.” Despite her pain, she couldn't regret knowing Brand.

“Oh, sure. You could still be living with Cousin Celia. My lands, child, why would you leave such a nice arrangement?” Mercy mocked Aunt Celia's voice.

Sybil shuddered. “I can't imagine going back. And yet I was happy enough there.”

Her friend patted her shoulder in a motherly way. “Only because you didn't know how much more there was to life. You ought to send that.” She tipped her head toward the drawer where Sybil had tossed the pages. “Brand's story is really good.”

“I couldn't.”

Mercy tsked. “This is a new world. We don't have to be chained by silly old rules.”

Sybil sighed. Let Mercy think it was about rules and proper behavior, but she couldn't send Brand's story out without his permission. It would only verify his suspicions. She had no intention of doing that. Even if he never knew one way or the other. Pain pierced her heart like a spear. To never see him again... How would she endure it?

“Think about it.” Mercy patted her arm and left the room.

Sybil stared toward the pages in the drawer. Yes, her editor would love the story, but thanks to Brand, publishing it was no longer what she wanted to do. She pulled out the children's stories she'd written and looked through them.

She wanted to publish a children's book in her own name.

But did she have the courage to do so without Brand to tell her it was the right thing to do?

She fell back on the bed. Did she even want to do it without him? She turned over to stare at the wall. His leaving had taken the sunshine from her life.

Chapter Eighteen

A
s Brand made breakfast, Dawg whined and paced. Breakfast didn't require a lot of work. Brand hadn't replenished his supplies, so beans were the only choice.

He offered a plateful to Dawg.

The dog sat down, stared at him and wouldn't eat.

“When did you get so particular?” he asked. Dawg gave him a baleful look. “You can forget about the kids feeding you. We won't be seeing them again.” The children had started bringing table scraps to the dog.

Dawg lay down and put his head on his paws.

“Suit yourself.” Brand ate the beans with the same pleasure he'd get from stabbing a fork into his thigh. Why had he let himself think he could be in love? Or maybe more accurately, why did he think Sybil's interest in him meant she loved him?

He threw away the last of the beans, downed the rest of the coffee, dowsed the fire and saddled his horse. If he rode hard and fast he could be...

Where?

He swung into the saddle and headed north, away from the ranch. The particulars of where didn't matter.

Dawg stayed by the cold campfire.

Brand whistled for him. Dawg pushed to his feet with a decided lack of enthusiasm and slunk toward Brand.

He again headed north. Dawg barked. Brand turned to see that the dog had not moved. “Come on, let's get moving.”

Dawg picked up his feet and headed south.

“Wrong way, pal.”

Dawg looked over his shoulder and barked.

It was a standoff. Brand meant to go north and Dawg meant to go south.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

Dawg trotted away, pausing every few feet to look back and whine.

“Go. Go back to her.”

Dawg yapped and took off running. The last Brand saw of him was his crooked tail disappearing down the trail.

What did a fool dog know?

* * *

Sybil had cried enough tears during the night to soak her pillow and leave her eyes puffy. She rose and washed her face. No more crying. She was done with tears. Knowing Brand had been a nice experience while it lasted. Now it was time to move on. She sighed. Words were easy and intentions were fine, but she'd never forget him.

Linette had ironing to be done so Sybil gladly stayed in the kitchen, tackling the job, while her friend sat in the front room and tended to the mending.

The stove was hot, to heat the irons, but she barely noticed the growing warmth of the room. The mindless task allowed her thoughts to constantly follow a trail north from the ranch.

Where had Brand gone? Where would he stop? Maybe he'd change his mind and return, give her a chance to explain.
Please God, send him back.
She continued ironing, knowing God could change Brand's heart, but only if Brand didn't hold stubbornly to his anger.

Outside, a dog barked, the sound urgent, demanding. Dawg? She ran down the hall, straight out the front door. “Dawg!” She fell on her knees and hugged the animal. He licked her face and wriggled from his nose to the tip of his crooked tail.

She lifted her head and looked around. There was no cowboy on the path or in front of the door. She stood and turned full circle, but still did not see Brand. “Where's your master?”

Mercy and Jayne stepped from Jayne's cabin, saw Dawg with Sybil and looked around. Then they climbed the hill to join her.

“Where is he?” Mercy asked.

“I don't know.” Sybil squeezed her hands together so hard they hurt. “But Dawg wouldn't be here without him.” Her throat closed off so she had to swallow twice before she could continue. “Maybe he's hurt.”

Mercy shrugged. “Or maybe he sent Dawg back.”

“He would never do that.” Sybil fought a suffocating sense of panic.

Mercy watched her, saw her tensing, and squeezed her arm. “I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about.”

Her words barely registered with Sybil. “Where's Eddie?” She scanned the entire ranch area visible from the hill.

Linette had joined them. “He's taken some cowboys and headed west to check on the cows.”

“I have to find Brand.” Sybil's voice squeaked out.

Linette took her arm on one side, Mercy on the other, and Jayne caught her hand. They led her reluctant feet back to the house and gently pushed her into a chair.

Linette hurried away and returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea and four cups and saucers. She poured them each tea. But Sybil's arms trembled so badly Linette put the cup on a nearby table.

“If you like, once Eddie returns I'll ask him to check where Brand is.”

Sybil nodded. Ten thousand protests raced through her head. Brand could bleed to death waiting for Eddie to return. He could be lying somewhere unable to move. He could...

She attempted to slam the door on all the images flooding her brain. Sometimes an active imagination was an unpleasant thing.

After a few minutes she managed to drink her tea and appear calm. All the while, her thoughts raced, until she came up with a plan.

* * *

Brand rode on and on. Every mile weighed his mind until he drew his horse to a stop and stared at the narrow trail ahead. Where was he going? And more importantly, why? What difference did it make if Sybil wrote a story about someone named Cowboy? It didn't matter to him. He no longer had to run from the Duggan gang.

His horse shuffled, uncertain what to do. Brand steadied the animal. “Just thinking, boy. Just thinking.”

Maybe Dawg had it right. Life was too good at the ranch to ride away.

And Sybil?

Why, she was the best thing that had ever happened to Brand. He loved her, and even if she didn't love him back, even if her interest had only been for a story...

Well, then he could still enjoy occasional glimpses of her. Enjoy hearing her sing during Sunday services. See her sauntering around the ranch. He might even follow her to her favorite spot and openly watch her if she didn't object.

Despite his brave talk, he knew that would never be enough. He couldn't believe she didn't care about him. She'd said he deserved love. She'd kissed him—a real, warm and giving kiss. It hadn't been begrudging in the least.

“Wahoo!” His shout sent the horse skittering sideways. Brand calmed him and turned him about to face south. Back to the ranch.

Back to Sybil. He meant to find out if that kiss meant she might have some sweet regard for him.

He grinned from ear to ear and barely restrained a happy song. This was the right thing. Somehow he and Sybil would work things out even if it took days, weeks, months. Nothing else mattered.

Lost in his happy thoughts, he didn't hear or see anything until a man on horseback appeared before him, blocking his path.

His eyes fell to the gleaming pistol the rider held in his hand, pointed directly at him. Brand's heart stalled and then he reined his horse in and slowly raised his hands in the air. He gave the man a quick once-over. He was thin, rough-shaven, with dirty blond hair and a scowl fit to rot his teeth.

“I'm just a poor cowboy,” he told the stranger. All he had was the wages Eddie had given him. He sure wasn't prepared to die over a few dollars. “You can have what I've got.”

“Ain't interested in your money.”

The skin on the back of Brand's neck tingled at the venom in the man's voice.

“Yer one of them Duggans.”

Brand's nerves went into full alarm. “The Duggan gang is dead.”

“Yeah. You'd like me to believe that, but I ain't fooled. I seen them firsthand and know what they look like. Get down.” He waved his gun to indicate Brand should dismount.

He did so, cautiously and slowly. No telling what this man meant to do, but shooting Brand on the spot seemed highly likely.

The gun-toting man swung down at the same time and came round to face him, the pistol aimed steadily at Brand's chest.

Brand shrugged a little, which was plenty hard to do with his hands raised over his head, but he hoped to convince this man that he was harmless. “Mind telling me what this is all about?” He kept his voice low, his tone calm, just like he did when working with frightened animals. Though he wasn't sure who the frightened one was in this situation. Was the man as nervous as Brand? Not likely, seeing as he held a gun and Brand held nothing but air.

“You no-good Duggans shot my wife.”

Brand stared. Pa and Cyrus were wicked and ruthless and for that, they'd got their names on a wanted poster. He'd heard of a woman getting shot. No wonder this man was angry.

“She was an innocent bystander. You Duggans didn't care who got hurt.”

Brand wished the man would stop saying “you Duggans.” Except he
was
a Duggan. It appeared he'd never be allowed to forget it.

“My Isabelle died right there on the street with no one to hold her hand. Without me having a chance to say goodbye.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry don't mean a thing. You're going to pay. Where's your sidearm?”

“I'm not carrying.” His gun was in his saddlebag. Since the demise of the Duggan gang he hadn't felt the need to wear it.

“That's downright stupid.” The man waved his gun around, then steadied it on Brand's heart. “I should shoot you dead right here and now, just like you did my Isabelle. But that wouldn't give me no satisfaction.” He indicated Brand should move away from his horse, then rifled through his saddlebags until he found Brand's gun belt.

The man emptied the gun of all but one bullet, then spun the cylinder. “There. You got a fighting chance. That's more than Isabelle had.” He jammed the gun into Brand's waistband.

The man backed away. “Lower your arms.”

Brand did so slowly, reluctantly, knowing what came next. He'd never get a chance to say goodbye to Sybil. Never be able to tell her he loved her. With blinding clarity he understood the other man's pain. “I'm sorry for how your Isabelle died.”

“Don't you dare speak her name.”

For a moment, Brand thought the man intended to shoot him.

Instead, he swallowed loudly and narrowed his eyes. “Go for your gun.”

* * *

Sybil put aside her empty teacup. “I'm fine now. But I need to take care of Dawg.” She pushed herself to her feet, willing strength into her shaking limbs. “Mercy, will you come with me?”

Her friend looked startled, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Dawg waited outside and wriggled a happy greeting when Sybil called him. “I'll take him to the barn. That's where he's used to staying.” She waited until they reached the barn to turn to Mercy. “Help me saddle a horse.”

“You? Why?”

“I'm going after Brand.”

Mercy laughed.

“I'm serious.”

Mercy squinted at her as if trying to bring her into focus. “You really are. Okay. I'll saddle a horse for you, but I'm coming, too.”

Sybil hugged her friend. “I hoped you'd say that.” She'd have to ride astride though she'd never done so. Regardless, she had to do this.

“Up you go.” Mercy helped her into the saddle. It was uncomfortable, but she'd survive.

When they left the barn, Sybil glanced around. Should they tell someone? No men lingered about. She glanced at the big house but didn't see Linette at the window. “Maybe we should tell Jayne what we're doing.”

“She'll try and stop us. Do you want that?”

“No. I must do this. Let's go.” So they rode north.

It didn't take long before Sybil wondered if she had been rash. She bounced with every step. Her legs cramped. Her back cried. But they kept onward, hoping for some sign of Brand.

She saw a movement through the trees. “Stop.” She pulled up so hard her horse reared.

Mercy halted and waited for Sybil's mount to settle.

“Help me down.” Sybil practically fell into her friend's arms, and bit her lip as her legs took her weight. “I saw someone through there.” She pointed. “It has to be Brand. Wait here,” she requested. “I want to see him alone.”

Mercy squeezed her arm. “You go get him.”

Sybil tiptoed forward, wanting to assess the situation before she confronted him. Twenty feet in she drew to a sudden halt, her heart kicking her ribs so hard it would leave a bruise.

Brand and another man faced each other. The second man held a gun aimed at Brand, and the look on his face convinced Sybil he meant business.

“Draw,” the angry man ordered.

Brand didn't have a chance at outdrawing a man with a gun already in his palm.

Her legs forgot how to work and she collapsed against a tree.

Brand,
she silently whispered.
Don't die. Please, God, let me get a chance to tell him how much I love him.

Brand kept his arms stretched out at his sides as if avoiding any indication he meant to draw. “I ain't gonna be part of this,” he said, his voice firm and strong. Keeping his right hand far away from his body, he slowly reached with his left toward the gun in his waistband and tossed it aside.

Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy. What was he thinking? Did he plan to die?

“You go ahead and take a shot if that's what will make things right in your mind. I ain't like my pa and brother. I won't shoot a man for any reason.” Brand stood immobile. “If you think that's what your innocent wife would want you to do.”

The stranger stared as the moments ticked by. Then he slowly lowered his gun. “You ain't no Duggan. A Duggan wouldn't miss a chance to shoot someone.” He stuck his gun in his belt.

“I really am sorry,” Brand said. “Kind of know how you feel. When I thought I was about to die, I had similar regrets. I thought I would do most anything to make up for past mistakes, even ones I didn't make. But you can't live life backward. Only forward.”

Acknowledgment flickered through the man's eyes and then he turned, swung onto his horse and rode away.