grinned again and gave a single head nod. “Yep, really.”
“Are there others?”
“Yes. Doc Graham married—”
“I mean other brides waiting to marry someone.”
His gaze was on Billy as the boy carried the shovel back to the barn. “Josiah Melbourne, he’s the mayor, paid for a full dozen.”
Although she truly wanted to ask if one of those dozen mail-order brides was for him, she couldn’t get up the nerve. However, she did say, “If Oak Grove is so wonderful, what are you doing traveling through Wyoming?”
He had his elbow on the arm of the chair and his fist beneath his chin. “Looking for someone.”
His chair stopped and she held her breath, preparing for him to say Hugh’s name. She had no clue what her response would be. There was no loyalty inside her to Hugh, but there was to Billy. And there was shame. Shame that Hugh was her husband.
“Will you look at that?”
Her heart stopped. Afraid to look toward the roadway that was little more than a pathway through grass that was slightly shorter than the rest due to seldom use, she kept her gaze on him, swallowed hard and prayed there wasn’t a rider on the roadway. “What? What is it?”
“The biggest toad I’ve ever seen,” he said, leaping to his feet. “Billy! Come quick!”
What transpired next soon had tears rolling down Clara’s cheeks, and she had to cross her legs to keep from peeing. There wasn’t one but two toads, and watching Billy and Tom run, jump and trip over one another in their attempts to catch the toads had her laughing harder than she’d ever laughed. She giggled and squealed at their antics and gave directions, when she was able to speak, at which way the toad had gone. When they both finally stood, each with a toad in their hands, she clapped at their accomplishments.
After a short bout of comparing the toads, Tom knelt down and let his go, and a moment later, Billy did the same. They then stopped at the water trough and washed their hands. While Billy ran to get the scrap bucket he’d dropped by the barn door, Tom walked to the porch.
With a huff, he sat back down in the rocking chair. “That was fun.”
His grin was still as large and glowing bright as the sun making its way behind the hills.
“It looked fun.”
“You should have joined us,” he said.
Though the pain was more tolerable every hour, her leg was still too sore for such shenanigans. Not wanting him to question her recovery, she said, “I’m too old to chase toads.”
“Too old?” He shook his head. “Chasing toads is like going fishing. And no one’s ever too old to go fishing.”
“Are we going fishing?” Billy asked, running up the steps. “When? Now?”
“No,” Clara replied. They hadn’t gone fishing since Uncle Walter had died and Hugh had sold the horse and wagon. The river was too far away to walk. “You two worked so hard to catch those toads, why did you let them go?”
The look Billy and Tom shared was identical. It was as if they couldn’t believe she’d just asked that.
“Keeping them isn’t any fun,” Tom said. “It’s the catching them that’s fun.”
“Yeah,” Billy said while nodding in agreement. “And I’m gonna go see if I can find some more.”
She was about to tell him to put the pail in the house first when Tom held out a hand.
“I’ll take that inside for you,” he said.
“Thanks!” Billy handed over the pail and was gone in a flash.
Tom set the pail down beside his chair and pushed a foot against the floor to set the rockers in motion. She rocked in her chair, too, as her mind wouldn’t let go of what he’d said.
“Is that how it is with most things? Fun to catch but not fun to keep?”
He shrugged. “I suspect that depends on what you catch.”
“I suspect,” she said, not certain why a statement so simple troubled her mind.
“Take fish, for instance. Keeping them isn’t as fun as catching them, but some are mighty tasty.”
She nodded. “That’s true.”
“Whereas toads, well, no one wants to eat toads.” He turned her way and gave an exaggerated look of shock. “You don’t, do you?”
She tried, but couldn’t suppress a giggle. “No.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said, turning back to watch Billy run around while keeping his chair rocking slow and steady.
She wondered if he liked chasing outlaws, for that was what he did. It was dangerous and hard, but he must like doing it or he wouldn’t do it. He hadn’t told her that, just as he hadn’t told her he was a lawman, but she knew. Was certain of it. He was the good in the good against bad. The lessons he’d already taught Billy proved it. The most intriguing part was that Billy hadn’t even known he was being taught a lesson, yet the things Tom had shown him would stay with him forever.
They sat in silence, listening to nothing but the wind rustling the leaves of the cottonwood tree at the side of the house, a few evening birds and the echoing thuds of Billy’s footsteps as he ran about, searching the ground for toads.
Maybe Tom was listening to a few more things than that. She certainly was. Her inner thoughts were screaming inside her head. Proclaiming things that could never be and denying things that were certain.
Those certainties won out. The barn door was fixed, as were the corral and the porch roof; there was enough wood piled up to make it until this time next year; and he’d brought home a smoked pig. Withholding a heavy sigh that threatened to collapse her chest, Clara rose to her feet and took a step in order to press a hand against one of the rough-hewn beams holding the porch roof overhead. “You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”
She felt more than heard him rise and step up behind her, and when she turned around, she was unable to look away. His eyes were so dark brown, and so, so full of sincerity. If only...
“That depends on you, Clara.”
Her heart stalled in her chest and she leaned heavier against the post. “On me?”
“You know why I’m here.”
She did, so it shouldn’t be so hard to admit. But it was. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, “I don’t know anything. Don’t know where he is or what he did.” When his lips parted, she shook her head. “And I don’t want to know.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Not knowing—”
Reaching out, she laid a hand on his forearm. “I know not knowing doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t even mean it didn’t
