The Circle Eight: Nicholas (4 page)

“Good.” She turned her head away.

He was annoyed, upset and completely off-kilter. She deliberately stirred the pot and then threw it at him. He refused to acknowledge she’d spoken the truth. Straight like an arrow to his heart.

Nick knew driving her to Houston would be a disaster. Now he expected it would be worse than that.

Winnie had pushed him too far. She hadn’t meant to but once she started, the words fell out of her mouth. Then it was too late to snatch them out of the air. Her heart hammered with the raw emotions surging through her.

No one but Nick had ever pulled such deep feelings—ones she had buried so far deep inside her they should have never resurfaced. Something about Nicholas Graham coaxed them out and she had to face their ugliness.

The trip back to Houston should have been she and Bartholomew, not the man who haunted her dreams and whose hands still ghosted their mark on her skin. He made it clear he had sampled the cow’s milk but didn’t want to have another sip. She knew what rejection was, plainly, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt by it. If only Bartholomew hadn’t fallen and hurt his arm. They could have had pleasant conversations all the way back, or at least civil ones.

She wondered sometimes if the universe had a twisted sense of humor. It threw all manner of badness at her, then goodness, then more badness. She could hardly catch her breath some days. Nick was too much like her. Digging into his darkness had brought hers back to hang over her like a thundercloud.

There was no help for it. She would have to tell him everything. The poison had already started to bubble up in her gut. She had to expunge it or choke on its acid. It took an hour to find the courage to speak again. He could not listen to her, or worse yet, think her a liar.

“When I was five years old, I came to realize that my father used me to entice men to give their money to him. I was such a pretty child with impeccable manners. It wasn’t until I was nine that I realized some of the men were interested in more than my father’s schemes.”

She took a shuddering breath, the warm air coating her throat, forcing her to swallow twice before she could speak again. “When I was eleven, he sold me to one of them.”

“Jesus. I knew that man was a sick bastard. Can say I’m glad he’s dead
.” His voice was raw, angry. His words gave her the courage to continue.

“When I was fifteen, I became pregnant by another of my father’s business associates. My daughter was born on May first
in eighteen thirty-five. I never held her, never looked at her… because I couldn’t.” She gripped her hands hard enough to make her knuckles pop. “Now she is nine years old and I don’t know where she is or who has her.”

The silence was only broken by the twittering of birds that could not know how painful her confession was. How broken her heart still was after nine years. How much she wished she could turn back the hands of time and fight for her.

“What is her name?”

Of all the questions he could have asked, this was the one that made her cry. Big
, fat crocodile tears rolled down her face as she choked on the sobs that threatened to burst forth. It took several minutes of noisy snuffles and a neckerchief offered up by her unwilling companion, before she was able to answer him.

“Grace. I named her Grace.”

The name was precious to her, as was the memory of a daughter she’d given away.

“That’s a right pretty name.” For the first time since she’d met him, he wasn’t angry, annoyed or impatient. He was simply there, beside her.

“Thank you. On her birthday I imagine what she looks like and hope someone is celebrating with her.” She was alone on that day, never leaving the boardinghouse or seeing anyone. It was too painful, too private, to share with anyone.

Until now. Until Nicholas.

“I’ve never told anyone. Even Vaughn doesn’t know and he’s my closest friend.” She’d kept her secret, festering deep inside her, never to heal.

He was silent for a few moments. “Why tell me?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. The words jumped out of my mouth.”

To her surprise, the air between them had eased, no longer thick or heavy. She was able to take a deep breath, even as she continued to wipe the tears from her face. Her heart ached
; the pain from having her daughter taken from her was as sharp as if it had been yesterday.

“It was a secret.”

“Yes.”

“And you shared it with me.”

“I’ve told you, Nicholas, we are very much alike. I know you’ll keep my confidence.” And she did know, somehow, how trustworthy he would be with her deepest secret.

He sighed. “That’s quite a burden to heap on me.” There was no rancor in his words, only sadness.

Before she could respond, he spoke again.

“But I have my own burden. I know how heavy they are. I don’t mind sharing yours.”

Her hands tightened on the now damp neckerchief. She had to admit he surprised her again. “Thank you, Nicholas.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I think my mother might be proud of me.”

His words sliced through the air, full of self-loathing and ancient pain. She wanted to touch him, tell him again she would listen if he wanted to speak. Their truce was fragile and she dared not risk falling into the acerbic words they’d shared earlier.

“I have no doubt she is proud of you. Your family is tough, smart and amazing. I wish I had a thimbleful of what you share.” She had no one, except Grace, and she was lost to her. Vaughn was her closest friend, but now with Elizabeth by his side, his life would continue in another direction. Yes, Winnie was well and truly alone.

“They’re annoying.”

Winnie snorted. “So are you.”

A hint of a smile twitched the side of his mouth. “You surely have a way of speaking your mind.”

“I suppose that’s
correct.” She sighed. “It’s gotten me in trouble more than once.”

“Truer words were likely never spoken.”

She tapped his knee with the neckerchief and the tension within her began to loosen. The confession exhausted her, but she wouldn’t regret it. She had held it inside for a very long time; it was past time to be honest with someone. Nicholas had been the right person. Her heart agreed with her. After the intense couple days with him in Houston when she’d been shot, she was more sure than ever they were connected. Perhaps for the rest of their lives.

Winnie did not give her affection or trust lightly. He might not realize it, but he was part of a very small group of people. She might hope someday to have
him as a partner like Vaughn and Elizabeth, but she wouldn’t allow herself to wish for it. Wishing got her nothing but heartache and scars.

The movement of the carriage soothed her and her eyes began to close. It hadn’t helped that she’d not slept the night before. That was, of course, Nicholas’
s fault.

Rebecca smiled as the children played in the yard. Childish squeals and laughter rang in the bright summer morning. As the de facto watchful aunt, she was generally in charge of the five scamps while their mothers took care of activities that were too dangerous for young’uns to be present.

Her sister-in-law Aurora was working on some new tools for the ranch while Hannah and Eva were canning the first vegetables from the garden. With a family as large as theirs, canning was a necessity to get them through the winter with vegetables and fruits.

The twins, Margaret and Meredith, were directing their brother and cousins in a rousing game of tag. Rebecca made notes in her book of remedies. She had been writing and building her knowledge of herbs and medicines for more than five years. Eva had helped her get started but now Rebecca was the keeper of healing arts.

It gave her a thrill to find something that would staunch bleeding or sooth a skinned knee. The children went to their mother when the
y were injured but looked to Aunt Rebecca to make the pain go away.

“Hey, girl, where is your brother?” The question, nearly shouted across the yard, startled Rebecca and she smeared ink on the page.

“Good Lord, mister, are you trying to scare the life out of me?” She set the book down along with the pen and inkwell on the rock beside her.

“I’m looking for your brother.” It was a man on horseback. The sun was behind him and she couldn’t make out who it was.

Rebecca got to her feet and shaded her eyes. Her breath caught when she recognized him.

Tobias Gibson.

He wore a blue shirt that had seen better days. Various stains decorated the fabric. Eva would have had a fit to see one of the Grahams wear such a garment. His horse was a familiar one and she petted the side of his neck as she looked up at his rider.

This was the man she had decided was the man she would marry. If Matt, Caleb and Nick knew, they would shout at her until her ears bled. None of them wanted Gibson on the Circle Eight, not after he’d burned it to the ground earlier that year. Even though he spent months
—every day—helping rebuild it, including providing the wood, his crime against the Grahams had become a grudge her brothers couldn’t forgive.

She could and had. In him, she saw the man who could be her hero.

“Mr. Gibson, you’ll need to give me a bit more information than that. I have four brothers.”

His mouth tightened. “Matt. I need to find Matt.”

“He’s out working with the cattle. I don’t expect him back before sundown.” It was barely mid-morning. Since the Gibsons lived a half-a-day’s ride away, he must have left in the middle of the night to arrive.

“Damn.” His curse was soft enough the children didn’t hear him. He might have acted the gruff stranger but beneath it all, there was a good man. She saw it, she wished for it.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Her heart sped up at the thought of spending time with him without the family around. She had watched him work for days, and grown more sure he was the right man for her with each day that passed.

“I was wanting to borrow your Eva to help Pops. He’s in a bad way and there ain’t no doctor that will come out to our cabin.” Beneath the words, she heard the concern over his grandfather.

“Eva can’t leave but I can.”

He looked startled. “You? You’re a child.”

She bit back the angry retort she would have thrown at her brothers. “I am seventeen years old, Mr. Gibson. I’ll be eighteen in just a few months. I am not a child.”

“Seventeen? I’ve got ten years on you, girl. You are a child
for certain.”

She til
ted her chin up and straightened her shoulders. “I am the healer of the family.” She pointed at the book on the rock. “I have more knowledge of the healing arts than anyone you’ll find.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Let me speak to Eva and gather my things. Watch the children for a minute.” Without waiting for an answer, she dashed into the house. From what she knew of him, he was good with children and had five younger boys that lived with him. He knew how to take care of young’uns.

She ran into the house, slamming open the door. Eva and Hannah started and stared at her open-mouthed. The older man, Mr. Bartholomew, sat at the table shelling peas. His reaction
was to raise his brows.

“What is it
,
hija
?” Eva wiped the sweat from her brow with her apron. Canning was hot work, hotter still in the summer. The air in the house was near oppressive even with the windows wide open.

“Mr. Gibson’s grandfather is ill. I’m going to go see if I can help.” She didn’t wait for anyone to respond. She ran to her room and retrieved her precious bag of herbs she had carefully collected over the last several months. What she’d had
before had burned in the fire, so everything was fresh.

She almost made it out of the kitchen before Hannah’s voice stopped her. Her brown gaze was full of concern. “I don’t think you should be riding off with Mr. Gibson without talking with Matt first.”

“There isn’t time. I know they rode north but with six hundred acres, there’s no way of knowing exactly where they are. The elder Mr. Gibson might be in dire circumstances.”

Hannah’s frown deepened, joined by Eva’s.

“I will be back as soon as I can. You know where I’ll be and who I will be with.” She edged closer to the back door.

“That’s my biggest concern. You know how Matt feels about the Gibsons.” Hannah had a point.

“He was here for two months helping us rebuild. I think he’s proved he can be trusted.” Rebecca opened the door. “I’m a grown woman, nearly eighteen. I can make this choice without my brother’s approval.”

“What about the children?”

“I can keep an eye on them.” Mr. Bartholomew, bless him, saved Rebecca from further obstacles.

“Thank you!”

She dashed out the door and found the children gathered around in a half-circle around Mr. Gibson and his horse.

“I’m leaving now. Mr. Bartholomew will come out and play with you.”

Meredith raised one brow, imitating her father so much Rebecca had to hold back a laugh. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She nodded at Mr. Gibson although her palms were sweating and her heart racing. “I’ll go saddle my horse.”