running off in search of her mother gone and buried.
Poor Georgie. Lida’s death had hurt her the most of all. He pressed a kiss against the crown of her sunbonnet, willing to do anything to take away her grief. “I love you, baby.”
She sighed deeply, feeling frail and ready to break. Such a little girl, and not even his comfort seemed to help her. Georgie’s arms wrapped tight around his neck. “Is heaven long gone and far away?”
“Very far away. Not even my horse can get us there. If I could, I’d take you to see your ma. It just can’t be done.”
Georgie’s arms tightened, her face pressed hard against his throat. “Not even an ox can get there?”
“Nope.”
Georgie wiped her tears on his collar and said nothing more.
He held her, all sweetness, until the big house came into view. The orchard’s gnarled black branches shielded the porch from sight, but he knew his son was waiting there, too small to be seen from a distance but keeping careful watch.
Sure enough, there was Joey, darting into the path between the trees. Worry was stark on his pale face and his blond locks were waving on the wind.
Nick’s chest punched. Joey had always been a serious boy, with a frown between his brows when he considered something mightily. But in the three weeks since Lida’s death, he’d changed.
Their lives had changed.
Joey planted his boots and shook a finger at his sister. “You can’t go runnin’ off like that. You’re in big trouble, Georgie.”
“I am not!” Her mouth compressed into a tough line. “You are.”
“The both of you, code of silence, right now.” Nick knew he sounded too stern and too tired.
He was just wrung out, that was all. He was at the end of his rope dangling by a fraying thread, and he had to hang on. His children and this ranch needed him. Look at Joey, all twisted up with worry, shivering in the cool wind. His trousers were wrinkled, his boots scuffed, his jacket crumpled and hanging crooked on his shoulders. “Joey, button up that coat and go to the house.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a tired look to the boy, as if Lida’s death had used him up, too.
Nick wanted to curse her for her choice to leave the children like this. Wanted to hate her. At least he’d been the one to find her, crumpled in the field near the small grave where they’d buried her baby last fall. A baby he knew wasn’t his.
Bitterness filled his craw and he tamped down a blinding rage he refused to give in to. The woman was dead. She’d suffered enough in this life, and he’d torn himself inside out trying to make her happy.
Georgie whimpered against him, bringing him back to the present, cuddling close. Her hold on his neck was choking tight.
It hurt, seeing her like this. Hurt worse to hand her over to his father, who ambled out on the porch, looking frayed and exhausted.
“Glad you found her, son.” Pop nodded once in approval, said nothing more as he settled Georgie in his arms.
She cried, begging for her mama.
Pain twisted in him like a knife. He felt torn and lost and defeated. So damn defeated. Georgie pushed at Pop, struggling to get down. Georgie didn’t understand death, and by God, neither did he. He’d never understand Lida’s actions, so how could he explain to a child?
Georgie was hurting, and he dismounted, leaving his horse standing in the cold. Took the porch steps in two long strides. Had Georgie clutched against him by the third, taking her from Pop’s arms and into his own.
“Pa,” Georgie wept against his flannel collar. “Mama left.”
“I know, princess.” He kissed her brow, and wisps of her silken hair caught on his whiskered chin. He’d forgotten to shave again.
Hell, he was forgetting everything. The world was crumbling into bits around his boots. None of it seemed to matter as he cradled his daughter to his chest, holding her as gingerly as when she’d been newborn.
There was nothing but the sound of her broken sobs and the echo of his heels on the parlor floor. The scrape of the rocker as he eased into the chair. The squeak of a spring. And the feel of heartbreak.
He held Georgie tight and rocked her until there was only silence.
Will emerged from the shadowed depths of the barn. “How’s Georgie?”
“Asleep.” Nick yanked on the stall door. It didn’t give, the damn thing. The hinge was sprung, leaving the wood door jammed into the frame. He kicked it hard, and wood scraped against wood, freeing the door, but not his frustration.
He could still feel Georgie curled against his chest, sobbing so hard her little body shook.
He hurt for her. Would take every grief, every anguish, every bit of pain from her if he could. The door crashed against the wall. The loud crack startled the mare in the stall. She whinnied and sidestepped, her head lifting high in alarm.
That’s it, Nick. Scare the horse while you’re at it. He pushed aside all thoughts of Georgie, but not his troubles. The feel of her sobs stayed with him as he reached for the mare’s bridle, speaking low.
He was in trouble. Up a creek without a paddle at the mouth of a waterfall. He was wise enough to know the plunge would be swift and lethal. He wasn’t on the boat alone. His children were with him.
Will plopped a saddle on the nearby four-by-four. “You look troubled, big brother.”
“Real sharp of you to notice.” Nick kept his voice gruff, because it kept the young man in line. “Got enough ammunition in that pack of yours?”
“I’m packed and waitin’ for you.” Cocky, Will tipped his hat. “You know what you need?”
“A clean blanket. Fetch me one, will you?” Nick slid the brush over the mare’s withers in a few quick swipes. Her tail swished side to side, calmer now, but he couldn’t say the same.
Something had to change. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t last another week like this. Neither could the children.
“Know what you need, big brother?”
“A foreman that does more work than talking?”
“Funny. What you need to solve all your problems is another wife.” Will tossed the blanket.
“A wife, huh?” Nick caught it and smoothed the length of wool into place. “Just goes to show what you know. A wife doesn’t solve troubles. She’s the source of ’em.”
“A little bitter, huh?” Will hoisted the saddle easily onto the mare’s back. “Matrimony isn’t supposed to be bliss, from what I hear. Torture or not, it is something you’re gonna have to do sooner or later, so why wait?”
Nick hated it when his brother was right. Jaw clenched tight, he unhooked the stirrup from the saddle horn,
