Robin Lee Hatcher (18 page)

Bethany lugged a bucket of wash water toward the shade at the side of the house. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, and the underarms of her dress were damp. Her body ached from all the lifting she’d done today. How on earth did Griselda manage, week in and week out?

As she approached the washtub, she saw two riders cantering toward her. A smile curved her mouth when she recognized her visitors. She set the bucket at her feet and raised her hand to wave. Moments later, Ingrid and Rand trotted their horses into the yard.

“Have we come at a bad time?” Ingrid asked as Rand helped her dismount.

“Of course not. The wash will keep.” She wouldn’t admit how glad she was for an excuse to stop and rest.

Rand touched the brim of his Stetson in greeting. “Hawk around?”

“No. He left early this morning.”

“D’you know which way he rode?”

She shook her head. “Rusty’s working on something behind the barn. He will know.”

“I’ll go ask him.” He glanced fondly at Ingrid. “You girls have yourselves a nice visit. I’ll be back for you later.”

Radiantly happy, Ingrid watched Rand until he disappeared around the corner of the barn. “I love him more every day.”

“I can tell.” Bethany hooked her arm through Ingrid’s. “Come inside. Hawk brought ice from the icehouse this morning. We’ll have something cool to drink, and you can tell me all the news from town. There hasn’t been a moment to catch up when I’ve seen you at church.”

“The big news is that we’ve had our last ser vice in the tent. Tomorrow we will celebrate the Lord’s Day in our new building.”

“They’ve accomplished so much this week?”

Ingrid nodded. “It is good that Hawk is feeling better. He has worked very hard. They could not have finished so soon without him.”

Bethany turned her back toward her friend, busying herself with glasses and tea. Hawk had gone into town to work on the church? He hadn’t said a word. Why would he keep it to himself? Why hadn’t he invited her to go with him? Didn’t he want to share anything with her?

“Bethany?” Ingrid’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder. “Are you unhappy?”

For one dreadful second, she feared she might break down. But she swallowed hard and forced a contented expression as she faced her friend. “Of course not. I’m very happy. And look!” She laughed as she waved an arm around the kitchen. “I’m even learning to cook and clean.” She turned away a second time. “Now tell me. When is your wedding to be? How is Rand coming on the new house?” She set the glasses of tea on the table and sat down across from her friend.

Ingrid grinned. “That is why we came to see you. The house is finished. Rand and I are to be married next week. On Wednesday afternoon. We have come to ask you and Hawk to stand up with us. You cannot say no.”

“I wouldn’t think of saying no. Of course we’ll be there.”

Hawk wondered during the ride back to the ranch house, Rand at his side, what Bethany was telling her best friend about their marriage. He got his answer as soon as he walked into the cabin’s parlor.

She rose from the sofa and came to his side, slipping her arm through his. With her eyes, she pleaded with him not to ruin the pretense. “Isn’t it wonderful? Rand and Ingrid have set a date for their wedding.”

“So he told me.” Hawk continued to stare down into her face, caught afresh by her beauty. He’d forced himself to remain aloof these last weeks, and now he reacted like a man dying of thirst, drinking her in while the opportunity remained. He was a fool to do so, and he knew it.

From the doorway, Rand said, “Ingrid, we’d better get goin’. I promised the reverend I’d have you back before supper. He’s like to skin me alive if I don’t.”

“Must you leave already?” Bethany asked softly.

“We will see you tomorrow.” Ingrid joined Rand by the door. “Perhaps you could stay in town a little longer after the ser vice. Your parents would like it. You hurry away so quickly each week that we have had no time to visit.”

Hawk had forgotten tomorrow was Sunday. And the idea of lingering for long talks with his in-laws wasn’t a welcome one. He feared they would see through their daughter’s attempts to appear happy. But why it mattered was beyond him. He expected her to leave eventually. Wouldn’t sooner be better than later?

Together they walked outside to see their friends off. Bethany continued the charade, her arm still locked with his. In unison, they raised their outside arms to wave farewell as Ingrid and Rand rode away. Hawk waited for her to withdraw, but she didn’t.

This is how it should be. This should be us at the end of every day
.

Except it wasn’t the end of the day. There was still plenty of daylight, and he was already at home with Bethany. The longing to crush her to him and drink the sweetness from her lips was almost more than he could resist.

He eased from her side. “I think I’ll go for a swim in the creek. I’m hot and dusty.”

“May I . . . may I come too? It’s too hot to bathe in the tub.”

He swallowed a groan. His purpose had been to remove himself from her company. “Can you swim?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “And I have my bathing costume in my trunk.”

How could he refuse when she looked at him like that? “Get your things while I saddle your horse.”

A short while later, they rode up the mountain slope, Hawk leading the way. The secluded pool, about a mile from the mouth of the springs, was surrounded by trees and brush. They reached it as the sun dipped behind the tallest peak, hinting at the end of day long before darkness would fall.

Hawk glanced over his shoulder at Bethany. She was clad in her bathing costume, an odd little getup complete with a matching cap over her hair. She rode astride, displaying a nice glimpse of leg between the top of her boots and the hem of the costume’s short trouser legs.

“This is it,” he said. “I’ll take care of the horses. You go ahead and get in if you want.”

“Okay.” She dismounted and walked to the water’s edge, where she sat on the ground and proceeded to remove her boots.

He watched her as he tied the horses to a couple of nearby pines. Despite himself, he grinned, not sure if she looked adorable or ridiculous in that outfit.

Adorable. No question about it.

She stood and dipped a toe into the water, then drew back. “It’s like ice!”

“I know. That’s why I don’t go in slow.”

To prove his point, he stripped down to his summer union suit and launched himself into the center of the pool. Surfacing, he gasped for air, the cold stealing the breath from his lungs. As his breathing began to regulate, he heard her laugh and turned just in time to see her hold her nose as she jumped into the pool, landing not far from him.

Her gasps for air mimicked his. Instinctively, he reached out to hold her above the surface of the water.

It was a mistake, of course. Better to keep his distance. Better to tell himself that she was unsuited to the life of a rancher’s wife. Better to tell himself that she was too different from him for them to get along. Better to remember that she came from a wealthy family and money would help her escape a loveless marriage when the time came. Better to remember the promises he’d made to himself.

If only things were different. If only he was different.

But he wasn’t.

He released his hold on her. “I’ll get the soap,” he said before swimming toward the place where he’d dropped his things.

He wasn’t different. He wasn’t the sort of man a girl like Bethany should marry. He would always be an outcast in many people’s eyes. He never would be the husband she deserved.

TWENTY-TWO

Vince Richards sat in the back pew of Sweetwater’s new church on the first Sunday it was in use. Not that he held much with religion. Never had. But most folks did, and it behooved a good politician to be seen in church. He was nothing if not a good politician, even though he held no public office at this time.

Besides, he hadn’t failed to notice how quickly the good Reverend Silverton had become an influential member of the community. People in Sweetwater turned to Nathaniel for advice in many different matters, not merely for spiritual guidance. When the time came for Vince to run for political office in Montana, he would want the reverend’s backing. He definitely didn’t want him as an enemy or opponent.

His gaze shifted to the couple seated in the front pew next to Mrs. Silverton. His jaw clenched, and he had to force it to relax. It galled him beyond words to see Bethany with Hawk Chandler. Beautiful and refined, she had been — and would always be — meant for him. He’d known it from the first time she and her father visited the Bar V.

Next time his hired men would do a better job of delivering a message. Next time, Chandler wouldn’t walk away.

He suppressed a sneer. By the time he returned from the East, if things went as he hoped, he would be able to make some substantial changes, regarding both Chandler’s land and Chandler’s bride. Three months should be ample time.

His thoughts shifted to his upcoming trip. In Washington, he meant to strengthen his ties with men of power in the nation’s capital. The time was ripe. The main line of the Northern Pacific was now complete. Land was being snatched up throughout the western territories, and the population of Montana was growing. Ranchers had become rich off the cattle and sheep that roamed the range. It was time for him to make his move. When Montana became a state, he meant to be in Helena, seated at the head of its government.

His gaze moved again to the front pew, settling on Bethany. Tiny burnished curls brushed her neck and the collar of her bodice.

One day.

Vince wasn’t the sort who gave up, not even when it appeared something — or someone — was out of his reach. Miss Silverton’s vows to Chandler wouldn’t dissuade him from making her his own. He could be patient. Didn’t the Bible say good things come to those who wait?

This time he didn’t bother to suppress the gloating expression that came over his face.

Hawk had enjoyed the reverend’s preaching from the first, maybe because it reminded him of his father, a man whose faith ran deep, a man who would have loved to sit with Nathaniel and discuss the fine points of Scripture. Maybe if his parents had lived, Hawk’s own faith would have grown stronger. He believed in God, but he didn’t have a whole lot of trust in God’s people. He’d been content with that until he’d come to Reverend Silverton’s church. Not for the right reasons, mind you. No, his attendance at first had been for reasons more emotional than spiritual. Perhaps even more carnal.

But on this morning, something the reverend said captured his full attention: “The Scriptures tell us that we are all unclean, and all our righteousness is as filthy rags. Our good works are meaningless if we are apart from God. But the Bible also tells us that Christ will become our righteousness if we trust in him. We will become as white as snow, forever clean because of Christ’s work on the cross.”

It would have been hard to describe what he felt as those words sank in — a hunger, a longing, a need to experience it for himself.

Then again, the good things about him must count for something. He was an honest man. He dealt fairly with other men and was loyal to his friends. He helped others when he could. Didn’t God care about those things too?