hunger forgotten, repressed energy making him jittery, he stalked around back and lugged another log closer to the rear wall. While he worked, he pondered the stakes. If Drake had indeed summoned the strength to switch them, where had Gideon’s disappeared to? Just didn’t make any sense.
He’d tried to help a dying man and his repayment was this—a problem he couldn’t readily fix, one he couldn’t have foreseen. Yet another tangle with the troublesome Chaucers. A year and a half ago, he would’ve gotten on his knees and sought God’s direction. Not now.
He was itching to inform his brothers of this new trouble. True to form, Lije would suggest he pray about the situation. Not happening. Lawman Clint would be more inclined to action, but what could be done? As much as he needed to mull this over with them, he didn’t feel right leaving his claim just yet, not when the Chaucers were sure to return with the widow and her son.
Wedging another log into place, he caught his thumb in the indented corner. With a muttered oath, he tugged the glove off and sucked on the throbbing finger. Should he abandon the project? After all, there was a very real chance he was actually building this shelter not for himself but for a hateful family who did nothing but point their fingers at him and his brothers, unfairly blaming them for their own misfortune.
But he’d never been a quitter. Call it determination or plain old stubbornness—he wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop fighting for his dream until the judge gave his ruling.
Two hours later he was downing a quick lunch of buffalo jerky and two-day-old biscuits he’d snagged from Alice’s table when Mrs. Evelyn Montgomery returned with a mountain of belongings. Trunks and barrels and carpet bags were piled into the wagon driven by her twin, Reid. Where did she think she was gonna stow all that?
Perched on an upended crate near his tent’s opening, the towering cottonwoods high, crooked branches providing welcome shade, he did not go out to welcome them. His dogs, Lion, a golden-haired beauty with a wise face, and Shadow, a shaggy black mutt with a playful spirit, lifted their heads from their outstretched paws. Bringing them to Oklahoma had been the right decision. The dogs were good companions, loyal to a fault.
Reid stopped the wagon in front of the stable and, after assisting his sister and nephew down, began to unload her stuff.
“Where will you sleep?” Reid’s question carried on the breeze.
She glanced Gideon’s way and, catching him staring, arched a provoking eyebrow. “Mr. Thornton and I will sort that out.”
Seeing the direction of her gaze, her brother tossed him a scowl. “I wish you’d let me help you get settled at least.”
She turned her back and her response was lost. Burrowed into her skirt, the raven-haired boy twisted his head to stare at Gideon. The absence of animation on his face was unnerving. He was what? Four? Five? For certain he was missing his pa but the watchful stillness wasn’t typical of a child that age. Especially a boy.
Gideon found he couldn’t look away. Memories burst into his mind. A little girl’s giggles as he twirled her up in the air. The sweet scent that clung to her blond curls and skin as she nestled in his lap for a bedtime story.
Surging to his feet, he discarded the now-cold coffee behind the tree and rinsed his mug in the stream, deliberately blanking his mind. He’d spent little time around children in the past year or so. Only natural that the boy’s presence would resurrect the past.
Best thing to do is keep your distance. Let the two of them tend to their own business while you focus on yours. It’s not like you have extra time on your hands anyway.
“Mr. Thornton?”
He stiffened, turned to see mother and son standing by his stone-encircled fire pit. Beyond them the wagon ambled in the direction of the hastily-constructed town, which so far consisted of a single bank, mercantile, café and jail.
So. This was it. They were well and truly stuck with each other.
“I see you haven’t built a cabin.” She indicated the undulating fields around her with a sweep of her arm. “Where do you suggest we sleep?”
At odds with her military-like posture and assertive manner, she kept a tight hold on the boy, the white in her knuckles betraying her unease.
“Got a tent somewhere in all that baggage?”
Studying his tent with distaste, she reluctantly admitted, “I’m certain I do.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“You don’t think I packed every single container myself, do you?”
Noting the sun’s lowered position in the sky, he picked up his Stetson and, brushing dust from the black felt, dropped it on his head. “I suggest you start searching, then, Mrs. Montgomery. Only a few more hours left before sunset. Wouldn’t want to be caught outdoors overnight without shelter. Coyotes pass through these parts on their way to the Cimarron.”
The boy’s jaw dropped and his fingers bunched in her black skirts.
“It’s all right, Walt,” she soothed, all the while shooting daggers at him over the child’s head that screamed, How dare you? Her silent reproach hit its mark with accuracy.
He’d spoken without a thought to Walt’s feelings. That was the first and last time.
He cleared his throat. “But they stay away from the tents because of Lion and Shadow.” Pointing to the dogs, he looked Walt in the eye, man-to-man style. “They’re my guardians. Now that you’re here, they’ll watch out for you, too.”
Walt tilted his head back and stared at Evelyn. A tender smile curved her lips, the intense love and affection shining in her eyes knocking Gideon back a step. He’d witnessed that look before, the shared unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. He felt the absence of it keenly. An image of two graves side by side with twin handmade crosses tormented him.
As desperately as he craved space, there was something he had to do first.
He bent a knee to the ground. “Lion. Shadow.” Immediately the dogs came to stand on either side. Resting his hands on their backs, he addressed the boy. “Would you like to come and meet them?”
Cautious interest bloomed in Walt’s dark eyes. Again he looked to his mother but remained silent.
Lightly squeezing his shoulder, she nodded. “It’s okay.”
Walt slowly approached, his focus on the animals sitting on their haunches and waiting patiently to be introduced.
“Walt, this here is Lion,” he said, indicating the yellow-haired one. “He’s intelligent and extremely loyal. Shadow is younger and a bit more playful.” He patted the shaggy black head. “Hold out your hand and let them smell you first. Then you can pet them all you want.”
He did as he was told, gingerly at first. When Shadow licked his fingers, a tiny smile flickered. Gideon’s gaze shot to Evelyn. Concern tugged her thick brows together, and she’d pressed her hands together, covering her mouth and nose.
What was going on here? He sensed something deeper than grief had affected Walt Montgomery. Mind your own business. Don’t get involved. Remain detached. His formula for avoiding any more pain.
