Where the Heart Leads (29 page)

Roses. Aumaleigh kept looking at them. She’d found a vase, trimmed the stems and set them in water. Now they were scenting up her house, reminding her of Gabriel.

Her chest tightened, aching. The contents of her hope chest were out—laundered, fully dried and folded up in a crate ready to go to Dottie’s. The leaky roof had done her a favor.

She was finally ready to get rid of these things she’d once made with all her hopes and dreams. Her quilt was on top, folded neatly.

We loved with a love that was more than love.
She traced her fingertips along the embroidered quotes.
Soul meets soul on lover’s lips.

Could they love like that again?

She lifted the quilt out of the box and draped it over the back of the couch, debating. Could she really give that away? Now she wasn’t sure. As she circled around the coffee table, Gabriel’s roses in the dining room caught her eye.

Was this really a second chance for them? He had changed. She could see that. He’d become even more strong and reliable. But something kept her heart from opening. Guards were there. She was afraid to love him—when loving him was what she wanted most.

She stared at the boxes. It was tempting to walk away, to lose herself in something that kept her from thinking. Or that kept her from facing whatever was in those boxes. But that wouldn’t get the boxes out of her house. It was time to clean up the last of her parent’s things. They were both gone and so were their human frailties.

Winston! Winston, you come back here and look at me. Just look at me, would you?
Mother’s voice, wracked with agony, echoed through Aumaleigh’s memory as she walked through the house, putting out lights. She’d been a little girl then, so concerned for her crying mother.

Some loves were fragile. Others were quick to burn out. But not all of them. She would never forget the times she would run over to Mother, crumpled up on the floor, crying hard for the husband whose love had gone out like a light.

Down deep, she’d been afraid so long ago that would happen to her. That her mother was right. That she was unlovable, and Gabriel had only to discover that about her. And then she would be living the rest of her life, crying over a love that died and a husband who kept his distance. Who, over the years, couldn’t stand to look at her.

And that wound would poison her with bitterness the same way it had Maureen.

But she wasn’t afraid of that, not anymore. Resigned, she eased off the nearest box’s lid and peered inside. Oh, there was the china doll she used to play with as a girl, as pretty as ever with her dark hair still perfectly coifed. She was accompanied by a plethora of beautiful outfits and accessories.

How cute. Aumaleigh held up a party dress in her favorite butter yellow and memory grabbed hold of her like a thief.

“You’ll have a gown like this one day, Aumaleigh.” Maureen worked her needle through the hem and pulled the stitch through. “Won’t that be fun? We’ll have your hair up all nice, and we’ll introduce you to all the right men.”

“Can my dress be yellow, just like this?” Her fingers wistfully brushed the lace overskirt, awed by the notion she might be grown up one day and able to wear something so fashionable.

“It must be the right color to compliment your coloring, dear.” Mother knotted the thread. “But yes, yellow is a complimentary color for you. You want to look your best to catch the right kind of husband.”

“I’ll wear this dress and I’ll dance and dance.”

“You’ll dance with the richest man in the ballroom.” Maureen worked her needle one more time, hiding the end of the thread. “There, it’s all done.”

“Thank you, Mother.” It was a wonder, holding something made of real silk, even if it was a scrap from Mother’s last gown. Aumaleigh smoothed out the skirt, admiring the garment. She couldn’t wait to put it on her doll!

“Remember, Aumaleigh, you can fall in love with a rich man as easy as a poor one.” Maureen put the needle back in her sewing basket. “Always marry the richest man you can. That’s what I did, and now I can wear all the pretty dresses I want.”

Aumaleigh blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. Her mother was a tragic figure, and largely of her own making. Maybe that was one truth in life. Be careful of the choices you make. Because they determine who you become.

Sadness clung to her, and she put the dress back in the box. She secured the lid and set it aside. Tomorrow, she’d take these things to Penelope and Nathaniel’s house. Maybe their little Evie would enjoy them.

Aumaleigh sighed. Well, going through that box hadn’t been so bad. That only left one box to go. Braver this time, she popped off the lid and a framed charcoal sketch sat on the top of a ton of papers. A small portrait of her father.

Oh, Papa.
She grabbed the frame, clutching it tight, her heart full of grief. He’d been captured in his youth, maybe before he married Mother, strapping and handsome with a chiseled face and kind eyes.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you off that Daniels’ fellow’s buckboard like that.” Father pushed open her bedroom door, standing in the doorway uncertain. His black hair was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed. He had a glass cupped in one hand. Whiskey. The strong scent of it filled her room.

“I know.” Aumaleigh turned away from the paned glass, but stayed firmly on the cushioned window seat. Gabriel was long gone, he wasn’t going to come back for any more dates after her mother’s tongue lashing.

“Did I hurt you?” His lower lip trembled. Swaying, unsteady on his feet, he stared down into his glass like a man staring at temptation he wasn’t strong enough to overcome. Resigned, he took a sip. Then a bigger one.

Her ear throbbed, hot and painful. Her arm where he’d also grabbed her had a bruise the size of his hand. A deep bruise. He’d practically thrown her through the doorway to get her into the house, and she’d hit her head. She had a lump from that.

“No,” she lied. The truth would only make him drink more.

“Good, because you don’t know what really getting hurt is like.” Father stared at his empty glass. He swayed and swayed.

“Here, Father, let’s get you lying down.” She feared he might fall down the stairs as drunk as he was and hurt himself.

“You’re my good girl, Aumaleigh.”

The memory faded. Her poor father, haunted by the demons he’d never been strong enough to overcome, by a past he couldn’t let go of. That didn’t excuse his choices and how he’d treated her, but it was sad.

She set the frame on the coffee table, a little afraid to find out what else was inside the box. But it just looked like old papers. She pulled out a handful. Letters, she realized. From Aunt Judith. She and mother had written back and forth for many years.

Aumaleigh scanned through the first lines of several of the letters.
Winston fell down the stairs and cracked his back… The garden party meeting was a success… Thank heavens Aumaleigh gave that farmer back his ring… My new dress…

Well, none of this was important. Out it went. Aumaleigh began tossing letter after letter, envelopes and all onto the table, when a familiar script caught her eye. Gabriel’s handwriting. Gabriel’s letter.

No, she realized, reaching into the box again. There were more of them. Over a dozen. Each one addressed to her. Each one unopened. They were dated through the year following their break up.

Shock hit her like an avalanche, burying her completely. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She could only stare at the letters she’d never received.

The letters Gabriel had written her.

Her vision blurred as she grabbed the first one, ripped open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

My dearest Aumaleigh,

I know you didn’t mean what you said. That was your parents talking. I know they are pressuring you hard. You are such a tender-hearted girl, and that’s one of the reasons I love you so much. You care about everyone more than yourself, but trust me. It’s time to do what you want. Not what I want. Not what your parents want. If you followed your heart, where would it lead? To me? If so, then please come to me. Or ask Josslyn to get word to me and I’ll be there for you. I’ll do anything for you. I just want you to be happy, sweetheart. I love you, and I’m never going to stop loving you.

Gabriel

A tear dripped onto the page, smudging one corner of the parchment. She let his words sink in. He had loved her enough. He’d been willing to fight for her. He hadn’t walked away easily.

She put her face in her hands and wept.

Gabriel was dog tired, but every thought he had as he drove home was of her. The wind sweeping the meadows made him think of the walks he wanted to take with her. The sun on his back reminded him of the summer afternoons he wanted to take her riding down to the cool river for a swim. The empty corrals by the barn reminded him of the horses he’d bought from her ranch. Her favorite horses.

Maybe one day she’d come walking out of the house, with a handful of carrots for the horses and a lunch basket for them. They’d picnic in the shade by the orchard, talking and laughing and maybe getting some kissing in. His ribs squeezed as feeling and hope rose.

“Hey, stranger!” Seth rode into sight through the field. He had a Colt Peacemaker strapped to each hip and a rifle holstered to his saddle.

He wasn’t alone. Oscar and Tyler were with him, each on horseback and heavily armed.

“Glad to see the afternoon shift is bright eyed and bushy tailed.” Gabriel drew his team to a halt. “Any sign of the Klemp brothers?”

“No. With the sheriff hunting them from behind and with us waiting for them, we’ll get them.” Tyler looked determined. “If they come this way, we’re ready. After our experience with Ernest and George, we can’t be too careful.”

“That’s the truth.” Oscar lifted his binoculars and carefully scanned the hillside.

“Looks like you men have it covered.” Gabriel appreciated that. He glanced up at his house to see Leigh waving at him from the porch. She’d taken her embroidery out to enjoy the warm weather. He waved back. “I’ll put up my horses and get some shut-eye. Holler if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Seth tipped his hat, and the men moved on, all business. Moving down to patrol the road by the river.

The wind puffed warm, redolent with the scents of growing grass and mountain meadows. Gabriel felt at peace watching over the valley where he would live out the rest of his life.

He liked that idea. Very much. He squared his shoulders, sitting tall on the wagon seat. He clucked to the horses, driving them toward the barn. From his vantage point, he could see straight across the hillside to Aumaleigh’s house. Sunlight glinted in the windows, and he thought of her there.

He’d made progress today. Was he one step closer to winning her heart? He hoped the connection he felt with her remained. Steadfast. Unyielding.

Stronger than it had ever been

The river gurgled, moving swift and cold. And wet. Junior’s mouth was dry as dirt and tasted like sand. He couldn’t help stopping and cupping his hand into the water. Ice cold, he slurped it up. It sluiced over his tongue and ran down his throat. Oh, it was nice.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Giddy growled. Unshaven, dirty and rumpled, he looked as bad as his temper. His hands shook, quaking hard. “We’re out in the open, idiot. When I tell you to move fast, you do it or I’ll beat you bloody. I’m in no mood.”

Junior was getting tired of his brother’s moods. He shook the water droplets off his hands, plowing through the river. They came up on the other side dripping and shivering, the bank soft with grass. His stomach growled louder than a bear. “We gotta eat, Giddy.”

“We’ll eat when I say so.” Giddy pressed his palms to the sides of his face. A sure sign he had a monster of a headache—which meant his temper was gonna stay mean.

What Giddy needed was a few bottles of whiskey, and he’d drink himself to sleep. Maybe then he’d calm down some. Giddy was on a rampage. He’d gotten things twisted up in his head, Junior could see it. He followed his brother up the bank and into the trees, winding their way up the wooded hillside until Giddy crouched down, satisfied.