in another human being. Dawg could spot a sly fox a mile away. Brand could only assume he could equally well spot a sweet, innocent, woodland miss. Maybe this woman warranted further interest. It wasn’t like he would be around long enough to put her in danger. He eyed the plate of food. It would have to wait until the ladies left. If he dug in now, they might see it as time to leave.
“I was about to have coffee. Care to join me?” He had only two cups, but he would drink from a tin can. He filled the cups and passed one to each of the ladies.
Sybil’s blue eyes held his.
He couldn’t remember how to fill his lungs.
Mercy leaned forward, her expression eager. “You must have seen most of North America.”
The question, posed as a comment, broke his momentary lapse and he settled back with his coffee. “Been around some.”
“Have you been to the Pacific Ocean?”
“Nope. Never had no mind to see it.”
She sighed. “I’d love to see it.”
Sybil made a scolding noise. “Mercy is restless. Always looking for the next big adventure.”
“Uh-huh.” He had little interest in the excitement-craving woman. He picked up a piece of kindling and kept his attention on the rough edges of the wood. “And what are you looking for?” He meant the question for Sybil.
It was only conversation. Words to pass the time. But he raised his eyes enough to watch her from under the protection of his lashes.
Her own eyes darkened to the color of the evening sky and her lips pressed together. A very telling gesture. She wanted something she couldn’t have. A man, perhaps? But what foolish man would refuse such a woman anything, including his heart and love? Unless he had the kind of life Brand did. One that didn’t allow him to give heart and love to anyone. Sometimes he wondered why God had made him a Duggan. Or more correctly, given him a pa and brother like the ones he had. Seems God could have arranged things just a little better.
“I’m quite happy with my life as it is,” she answered after a beat of silence.
She might think it true, but he didn’t believe her.
Mercy made an exasperated sound. “Someday, Sybil Bannerman, you’ll discover your life is far too safe.” She fixed Brand with a daring look. “Sybil lives a very careful life. Never takes risks. Obeys all the rules.”
He thought of how his pa and brother lived a lawless life. “Rules have their purpose.”
“Thank you.” Sybil favored him with a beaming smile. “That’s what I’m always telling Mercy.”
“Okay. Okay.” Mercy tossed her hands in the air. “I agree to a point. But rules should not become chains. There are certain risks and adventures that don’t follow rules. It’s a crying shame to avoid them.”
Brand stared into the fire.
He was a risk. Miss Sybil would do well to avoid him and remember the safety of her rules.
“How much longer will you be here?” Sybil asked, and his heart took off like one of those stampeding horses.
He managed to slow it some. It wasn’t as if she asked because she wanted him to stay, he told himself. She was only making polite conversation.
“I’ll likely finish up tomorrow, then me and Dawg will move on.”
“I enjoyed watching you work today,” she said. Did he see admiration in her eyes? And why did it matter? He’d move on before she learned his true identity. Heaven forbid she’d learn it before he left and he’d see the shock and horror in her eyes. Best to change the subject.
“So how long have you ladies been in the country?”
Mercy nudged Sybil and answered his question. “A couple of months. Three of us ventured over. Jayne, the other girl, is Eddie’s sister.”
“So you’ve come to visit western Canada? Then you’ll go back to your English home?” Unless they had an eye to marriage out here and with the shortage of young women in the country, they wouldn’t have any trouble fulfilling such plans.
“Yes,” Sybil said.
“No.” Mercy shook her head. “Sybil, why would you want to go back? You have nothing left back there.” She turned to Brand. “Her parents are dead. She has no other family.”
He wanted to stuff a handful of grass in Mercy’s mouth at the way her words sent shock waves through her friend’s blue eyes.
Sybil tipped up her chin. “It’s my home and I have Cousin Celia.”
Mercy snorted and lifted a hand in what Brand took as exasperation. “You belong here as much as there. And here is a lot more fun.”
Sybil studied her friend, her blue eyes troubled. “Your parents are expecting you to return.”
Mercy shrugged. “I doubt they’ll miss me.”
Sybil shook her head and turned back to Brand. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t argue in front of you. It’s none of your concern.” Dawg had sidled closer still and she stroked his head in an absentminded way that made Brand wonder if she knew she did it.
Brand expected Dawg to object, growl, move away, slink back to Brand’s side. Instead, the dog closed his eyes and looked as content as a baby in a cradle.
Brand realized his mouth had fallen open, and he forced it closed. But his surprise made him stare. Dawg never let anyone but Brand touch him. Not until this moment.
Sybil drained her cup. “Thank you for the coffee and the nice visit. Now we must be on our way.” She rose to her feet in a fluid movement that reminded Brand of a deer edging from the forest. “No doubt we’ll see you again.”
The words were said lightheartedly, but Brand felt the promise and threat of them. Did she want to return and visit? Did she hope he’d extend an invitation? But Sybil didn’t meet his eyes, so he couldn’t judge her thoughts.
When Mercy scrambled to her feet, Sybil caught her arm and they hurried away.
Dawg whined as they disappeared into the trees.
Brand patted the dog’s head. “Never seen you get all sappy about a girl before. Just remember, we aren’t staying, so don’t get too interested in her.”
Words Brand knew he should tattoo on his own brain.
He couldn’t stay even if he was tempted. If Pa and Cyrus saw him with Sybil, they wouldn’t hesitate to threaten her. Even if they didn’t catch up to him, someone would surely remember the wanted poster they’d seen somewhere, and place him as a Duggan. And if she learned his name, she’d be shocked. She’d withdraw. And who could blame her? Might as well move on and save her the trouble of telling him to leave her alone.
People would judge a person as guilty by association.
He’d grown
