someplace to be, do you?”
Mr. Bell likely only meant to make conversation, but the question made Wyatt face the fact that he didn’t know where they were going. How far would they have to in order to get away from their past? How far before Lonnie could forget their abusive father? How far before people would forget Wyatt had gone to jail for beating up the old man?
Not that he’d done it. Lonnie, sensitive and quiet, had snapped one day and turned on their father. Knowing his brother would never survive in jail, Wyatt had confessed to the crime. Now, a year later, he was out. Of course, no one would let that be in the past. Pa had died while Wyatt was in prison. Perhaps the beating had done irreparable damage. Or maybe Pa’s hard life had caught up with him. Ma, God rest her soul, had lived long enough to see Wyatt free again. Then she’d wearily given up as if life was just too much effort.
Wyatt had sold their farm in Kansas and was headed as far away from there as possible. He planned to buy a bit of land someday and start over. He’d be a rancher. Raise horses. Find peace. He’d brought along a half-dozen mares to start a herd with. He and Lonnie—wanting to forget their past and hoping for a happy future. Somewhere. Sometime. He rubbed at the tightness in his neck. Maybe in Canada they could start over without him constantly looking over his shoulder.
He shuddered, then sucked in a lungful of air and forced his thoughts under control. He would not think of those who might recognize him from the trial. Or even those who might have their own reasons for tracking him down. For instance, a certain jailbird who hated Wyatt and vowed to make him pay for Wyatt’s interference when the man tried to bully his way into power in jail. Not that he figured Jimmy Stone had enough get-up-and-go to ride after them. But the man had gotten out of prison a few weeks after Wyatt, and Wyatt hadn’t been able to forget the man’s threats.
“Headed north,” he said, answering Mr. Bell’s question.
“You’ve about run out of north.” The old man scratched his whiskered chin. “Unless you’re headed for Canada.”
“Might be.” Even if he had particulars about his destination, he wouldn’t be sharing them.
Mr. Bell studied him a moment. “You sound like a man running from something.”
“Could be I’m running to something.”
Mr. Bell didn’t blink. “So long as your running poses no threat to me or my family.”
Wyatt didn’t answer. He couldn’t give that kind of assurance. “My mare’s about to foal.”
Mr. Bell limped toward the door. “Let’s have a look.”
They made their slow way toward Lonnie and the mare. Lonnie tossed the mare’s rope toward Wyatt and backed away at their approach. No one but Wyatt seemed to notice Lonnie’s odd behavior. The others were too busy eyeing Fanny. He introduced his brother to Mr. Bell, who greeted him, then returned his attention to the horse.
Mr. Bell ran his hand along Fanny’s sides and walked around the horse then tsked. “She needs to rest. Where did you say you come from?”
“Didn’t say.”
Mr. Bell straightened and fixed Wyatt with a look that caused him to hastily add, “Been on the road awhile.”
“That’s no excuse for exhausting a mare this heavy in foal.” The look Mr. Bell gave him would have made many a man stammer some kind of apology, but Wyatt had faced harsher looks and far bigger men without revealing a hint of weakness.
“Been looking for a decent place to stop for a few days now.”
“Huh.”
Apparently that wasn’t a good enough excuse. And Wyatt wasn’t about to tell anyone that every time he mentioned stopping Lonnie had begged him not to. Until now, he hadn’t been able to ignore his brother’s request.
Cora grinned at Wyatt. “Best you know Pa can’t abide any carelessness with God’s creatures or His creation.”
“I gathered.”
“Cora, run and get some of Ma’s tonic. Be sure to tell her it’s for a mare in foal.”
“Yes, Pa.” She trotted away.
Wyatt watched her go, then realized Mr. Bell was studying him, and shifted his gaze back to the mare. “Do I have your permission for me and my brother to camp down by the river with my stock?”
Mr. Bell rocked his eyes from Wyatt to Lonnie to the mare and out to the river a couple of times as if measuring...considering.
If he knew the facts he would no doubt be asking them to move on.
Mr. Bell nodded. “Can’t hardly ask you to take this mare any farther. You’re welcome to pen them here and throw your bedrolls in the shed.”
Wyatt didn’t have to look at Lonnie to know his face would be pinched. “Thanks, but we’ll be comfortable camping down by the water.”
“Fine. Before you take the mare there, I’ll give her some tonic to strengthen her. Do you have oats?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I’m out. Would you have some I could purchase?”
“I’ll see to it.” Mr. Bell faced Wyatt. The man looked almost old enough to be Cora’s grandfather. He had a strong face, lined from years of both good times and worry. His hair was thick and gray. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” The look he gave Wyatt said a whole lot more than his words.
Wyatt understood the man’s warning. Wyatt’s vague answers had given him reason to be suspicious. If Mr. Bell knew the truth—a history of family violence and time in prison—he’d chase Wyatt and Lonnie away in spite of Fanny’s condition.
Wyatt kept his gaze on Fanny.
Would he ever escape the shame and regret of his past?
* * *
With a smile on her lips, Cora made her way to the garden shed. How quickly and easily Wyatt had dropped a loop over that silly piglet’s head. But, oh, the fuss the pig had made. Better entertainment than a circus.
Wyatt had laughed easily, but she’d seen so many secrets behind his dark eyes. She’d also noticed how his brother had pulled away from them all. It wasn’t simply shyness. No, there was something unusual about his reaction.
Her amusement fled. She suspected he hid something. Secrets, in her opinion, made people forget things they’d promised to those they pretended to care about. She might be considered innocent, but despite being only twenty years old, she knew that much for certain. Like her supposed beau, Evan Price. Pretending to really care about her while all the time planning to leave for the goldfields. Goodbye came far too easy for him. She drew in a deep breath and forced her thoughts to things she needed to do yet today.
Between the wandering pig and the visiting cowboy she was way behind in her chores, and she picked up her pace. She had butter to churn and cheese to start. The sale of these products, plus whatever people offered in return for the healing powders that Ma made from medicinal plants, brought in the cash to pay for what they couldn’t raise themselves.
