The Circle Eight: Nicholas (6 page)

“She has it in her mind that her role is as a healer and she won’t hear anything else.” Eva spoke to the pot she was currently stirring.

“What man?” Matt stood in front his wife until she met his gaze. Her brown eyes were full of guilt.

“Tobias Gibson.”

Matt cursed under his breath, mindful of the passel of children currently staring at him, their eyes wide as saucers.

“Why did you let her leave with him? The man is not to be trusted, no matter how much he helped rebuild this place. He burned it to the ground first.” Matt tried his damnedest to control his temper but it was already near to boiling.

“His grandfather was very ill and Rebecca thought she could help.” Hannah wiped her hands on her apron. “She took her medicine box and that book she writes in every day.”

“You let her leave her with a man you know I wouldn’t let step foot on this ranch?” His voice had risen.

“She
is
a woman grown. She’ll be eighteen in September. You can’t stop her from doing what she wants.”

“I sure as hell can. I am the head of his household, no matter how many of you want to fight me about that.” He glared at Eva and Hannah. “I’m going after her.”

“No, you won’t.” Hannah put her hands on her hips, a sign she was about to get mighty stubborn. “She is a good healer, the best I’ve seen. Elizabeth told me about Pops Gibson and while he was an old curmudgeon, he kept that family together. They might not be us, but they are a family who needed help. Tobias was here for months building this house. His penance is finished.”

He wanted to argue with her, to tell her it was wrong. Rebecca was his responsibility. Hell, she couldn’t possibly be almost eighteen. She was a girl in braids and dirty knees, not a female who would go off with a man without telling Matt.

Apparently she would.

“When is she coming back?” His hands itched to go saddle up and go after his errant little sister.

“When she is no longer needed.” This from Eva.

“Traitor.”

The older woman shrugged. “You are all my children,
hijo
. Fighting with any of you does no good. Sometimes you have to make your own mistakes to learn from them.”

“I can’t believe none of you stopped her.” Matt ran his hands through his hair.

“Do you want to ride after her?” Caleb had come in at some point and stood behind him.

“No. Much as I don’t like it, she is a Graham and she knows how to protect herself. Besides, if the old man was bad enough off to make Gibson come to us for help, he might be dead within a day.”

Eva gasped and Hannah looked ready to punch him.

“If she’s not back in a couple days, I’m going after her.” With that he turned and walked out of the back door. He would use the cold pump water to cool his temper. At this rate, he’d need fucking snow to make a difference.

Rebecca slid off the horse with a plop. The hard ground jarred her bones after the exceptionally long ride from the Circle Eight. She’d thought it was farther away, at least half-a-day’s ride, but it was only eight very hard hours. No doubt Tobias had fooled Vaughn and Elizabeth into believing his property was further away to confuse them.

Not so with Rebecca.

No, he drove them both until she couldn’t feel her behind and her thighs screamed with a thousand pricks of pain. Tobias didn’t seem to care he drove her to such discomfort, not that she could begrudge him the sense of urgency. He was obviously very worried about his grandfather.

Three little boys stood beside the modest cabin. They were of varying ages and thankfully somewhat clean and quiet.

“Where’s Will?” Tobias barked at them as he secured the horses to a post beside the door.

“He’s with Jeb hunting up some supper. We ain’t, I mean, we didn’t eat yet.” The tallest one, skinny with
buckteeth and thick blond hair, spoke. He glanced at her as though it was for her he’d corrected his grammar. She resisted the urge to smile. The situation was far too serious to be distracted by the boys.

“How’s Pops?” Tobias put his hands on his hips, although standing over the boys, he was not threatening. She couldn’t say the same for how he treated everyone else. Rebecca want
ed to see the soft side of the man. She was still annoyed with him though, the grumpy sourpuss that he was.

“Sleeping.” The tall boy spoke again. “He’s been coughing something fierce, Tobias.”

“I know.” Tobias blew out a breath. “That’s why I brought Miss Graham.” He gestured to her. “She’s a healer.”

Rebecca didn’t know if she was a healer, but she had the knowledge to do her best to try to heal someone. Tobias’
s opinion, albeit a little cockeyed, warmed her.

The boys stared at her. “Miss Elizabeth?” This from the smallest of them, with a lisp and adorable cheeks.

“Next best thing, her sister.”

Oh, now that wasn’t nice. Rebecca might be seventeen but she was just as good as Elizabeth, not a substitute.

If possible, the boys’ eyes widened even further. “Now get yourselves gone so she can take a look at Pops. Gather some kindling and help Jeb and Will clean the kill when they get back.”

The small Gibsons scampered off to do as they were bade. Tobias looked at her from beneath the brim of his hat. The sun had set a short time earlier, leaving the air cloaked in gray shadows. The air was pleasant, a surprise for Texas summer evenings. Nevertheless, a chill ran up her spine at the dark visage Tobias presented.

“Let’s get to work. Pops ain’t getting better while we stand out here.”

Rebecca held up her hand. “I am more than happy to help your grandfather.
First, I need a moment to perform some personal, ah, business.”

His mouth tightened. “Fine then. Privy is out back. Well pump is on the side of the cabin. I’ll meet you inside when you’re done.”

She didn’t get a chance to respond before he left her, quite abruptly, and entered the house. Rebecca glanced up at the evening sky. “Too late to change my mind now, I suppose.” With a sigh, she made her aching legs move. She had much to do and whining about her personal discomfort wasn’t going to get anything done.

Rebecca was a Graham through and though. Pops needed her and she would help the older man. She would not give up without a fight.

Houston had a
bustling atmosphere that never seemed to stop. Nicholas steered the wagon through a bevy of obstacles including horses, pedestrians, runaway barrels, a screaming mother and a ladder that had fallen into the street. It was a wonder anyone got anything done in this city.

He’d had the same
reaction the first time he had come to the city. Growing up where he did, there was plenty of open sky and room to stretch your legs. Here he couldn’t fart without someone catching wind of it. Literally.

He remembered the way to Winnie’s house and steered the wagon around to the back. Tomorrow he would
see about getting the rig returned, beat the snot out of whoever rented it to Winnie, and then secure her a horse to ride. Thank God he’d brought his gelding.

They would need to be able to move quickly and a horse-drawn conveyance would be cumbersome. Hell if he knew where they’
d go but they had to start somewhere. Transportation seemed a good place to him.

Winnie had been very quiet for the rest of the trip after she agreed to his crazy plan.
They’d spoken but it was inane topics like the weather and when to stop to eat. She’d retreated into herself and he didn’t know how to draw her out of it. For most his life, he had pushed people away. What the hell did he do now?

If Ellie were there, he could ask her. Hannah would help too. But none of his family was around. He’d left them behind,
gladly at the time, and decided he didn’t need them. Ha! Well, wasn’t he a complete idiot. Helping Winnie was something he needed to do. Failing her was not an option.

He stopped the wagon in front of the small barn and set the brake. Before she could get down, he
hurried around the back of the wagon and held up his hands to her. When the hell had he become so solicitous? Had someone knocked him the head?

“I, uh, thank you, Mr. Graham.” She leaned into his hands and he plucked her from the perch.

She weighed no more than a bag of feathers—a curvaceous bag of feathers, he remembered all too well. His body tightened with the memory of the perfection he’d touched, tasted and caressed. Perhaps staying at the boardinghouse was not such a good idea. It would be near to impossible to keep his hands to himself if she was so inclined to offer her bed.

Shit.

“I think you can call me Nicholas. Or Nick. I reckon we’re past the mister part, seeing as how I’ve seen you naked.”

H
e wouldn’t be mistaken for a charmer.

“Well then, I certainly hadn’t forgotten what a plain speaker you are,
Nicholas
.” She reached up and took her traveling bag from beneath the seat. “Please take care of the animals and then come inside. I’ll get a late supper ready.”

He wanted to kick his own ass, which wasn’t uncommon. Damned if the wrong words fell out of his mouth again.
He cursed as he unhitched the team and brought the horses into the small barn. The rig would sit outside until the morning and they could return it. Winnie kept a clean stable although she had no animals of her own except for a barn cat, which meowed at him with fervor when he opened the door. Nick lit the lantern hanging by the door and then led the horses in.

“I’ll end up out here with you fellas.” He
settled the first horse into a stall and then the second. There were oats and fresh water readily available. She must have someone keep the stable stocked at all times. He supposed that was part and parcel of owning a boardinghouse. Folks who stayed with her would have mounts. She was probably popular just for the equine accommodations, not to mention the beautiful house, good food and the exquisite hostess.

He brushed the horses down, made sure they were comfortable with food and water. Nick
knew he was avoiding going into the house. He didn’t want to admit why.

Nick was afraid.

Now that he’d admitted so much to Winnie and turned her life upside down by concocting a scheme to find her daughter, he didn’t know what to do. What if she wanted to talk more? Or, God forbid, share what he felt? The very thought of more talking made his stomach flip.

Then again
, she’d been quiet for more than a day since the last time they had truly held a conversation. There was nothing to be afraid of, yet he still dragged his feet. The cat, a yellow tabby with half an ear on the left side, stared at him from the open door.

“I suppose I should get on up there. She likely has supper on the table.”

Meow.

“She
had good vittles if I remember right.”

Meow.

“She even takes in ugly strays like you.”

Meow
.

“And me.”

Nick turned out the lantern and closed the barn door. The cat loped along beside him as he walked to the back door. A warm glow emanated from the small window he knew was above the sink. It looked like a home. A welcoming one.

His heart clenched. Pure need pulsed out from within. Need to come home to her, an
d feel her warm body against his each night. A fairytale.

Did he have the courage to find out if the fairytale could be a reality? He sure as hell didn’t know. Maybe he never would. Or perhaps this adventure would prove him wrong about what happiness meant.
His steps faltered at the thought.

Nick thought courage was something men had to face down danger. Now he knew differently. Courage was having the balls to be scared shitless and still be foolish enough to move forward.
He dug deep to find it. After a fortifying breath he walked up the steps and knocked on the back door.

“Come in.” Her voice came from within, light and lilting.

Meow
.

The cat darted inside as soon as he opened the door.
It headed straight for Winnie’s legs, winding around beneath her skirt and meowing for all he was worth.

“
Cheddar, what are you doing in here?” She glanced down at the cat, a lock of her golden hair swaying across her cheek.

“I’m afraid he latched on
to me.” Nick took off his hat and held it in his hands, turning it this way and that. He wasn’t sure what to do. Staying in her house when she was shot was a different situation than this one. Now she was hale and hearty. And alone. It hadn’t occurred to him they would be in the house together without a chaperone.

Heat raced through him
at the possibilities. And the memories of the barn on the Circle Eight. He resisted the urge to adjust his growing erection in his trousers, even as his circulation suffered.

“He’s a pest when he wants to be, which is more often than not.” Winnie shooed the cat away with her foot but the feline didn’t go far. It sa
t a foot away and meowed, growing louder each time. Soon it was louder than any infant that ever wailed.