halfway to his mouth, the gold flecks in Clint’s brown eyes shimmered with disbelief.
Cradling his mug of steaming coffee, Elijah leaned back in his chair and sighed. “This shouldn’t come as a surprise. We’re all aware of the Chaucers’ opinion of us.” He looked across the table at Gideon. “I’m just sorry that coming to a man’s aid has placed you in this position.”
Gideon traced lazy circles on the coarse tabletop. Even if he could’ve foreseen the outcome, he wouldn’t have left Montgomery to die. His brothers knew that. Still, the situation he found himself in rankled.
Despite his fatigue, he’d passed a restless night, his mind on the occupants of the tent a quarter acre upstream. Visible yet far enough away he couldn’t hear their conversations. They don’t have conversations, though, do they? Not for the first time, he pondered the boy’s continuing silence.
“We don’t know much about Evelyn Montgomery. Is she as disagreeable as her brothers?” Clint asked.
His brother’s appointment as sheriff of Brave Rock had become more than just a job. It had become a calling, an honorable mission to maintain the peace of this Oklahoma town birthed from dreams of independence and the grit and determination to see them into reality. With a keen, observant mind and commitment to upholding the law, he was the best man for it.
“Evelyn—” her given name sounded odd on his lips “—can be difficult.”
“Which is another word for stubborn, like some people I know.” A knowing grin hovered about Lije’s mouth.
“Contrary is a better word,” Gideon shot back, thinking of her resistance to his every attempt to make life easier for her. Why he even tried he hadn’t a clue. “She’s good with her son, though. Protective.” The immense love she possessed for him was evident in every look, every touch.
Seated across the table in Lije’s cabin, his brothers exchanged a quick, telling glance. He knew by Clint’s cautious expression and the sympathy in Lije’s hazel eyes they were thinking of Susannah and Maggie.
“You have my constant prayers, brother. In time, God will sort this out the way He sees fit.”
Gideon pressed his lips together, cutting off the stinging retort. As a preacher, Lije centered his whole life around the things of God. Comforting folks, praying for them and encouraging them in difficult times came as second nature to the eldest Thornton brother. Gideon wanted no part of it. Not anymore. The grief stemming from the loss of his wife and daughter had transformed into resentment and anger at the all-powerful God he’d once served.
He could’ve spared them and yet chose not to. Every time he felt the urge to pray or dust off his Bible, he reminded himself of that fact.
Pushing to his feet, he set his cup in the dry sink behind him and crossed to the door, retrieving his hat from the row of hooks. “I’ve gotta go. Got errands in town to tend to.”
Lije stood, as well. “And I have to meet the work crew. We’re framing the chapel windows this morning.”
Work on the official Brave Rock church—which would also be used as a meeting house—had commenced a couple days ago on the western edge of Lije’s claim closest to town. Residents were working in shifts so that everyone shared the load and families weren’t taken from their planting and the building of their own cabins for very long.
“I can spare a few hours this afternoon,” Gideon told Elijah.
The preacher’s jaw dropped. “You’re offering to work on the church?”
Aware of Gideon’s aversion to spiritual matters, his brother hadn’t asked him to pitch in. But Lije worked his fingers to the bone seeing to the needs of this town. Swinging a hammer for a few hours was the least Gideon could do. Besides, it would gain him a reprieve from the feisty widow Montgomery.
“I am. Unless you don’t need me.”
Clint watched the exchange with interest.
Lije picked up his jaw. “Oh, we need you, little brother.” Clapping a hand on Gideon’s shoulder, he grinned big. “What time should we expect you?”
“Around one o’clock. How’s that?”
“Perfect. The men will be returning from lunch then.”
Gideon opened the door.
“Hold up a second.”
Clint shoved his chair back. The gold star pinned to his vest winked in the morning sunlight streaming through the curtainless window. The last shingle of Lije’s one-room cabin had been nailed into place last week, and it lacked those little touches that made a dwelling into a home. Wouldn’t be this way for long, however. He’d seen Alice hemming blue-and-white-checked curtains in preparation for her and Lije’s upcoming nuptials. If the bouquet of daffodils gracing the table—the only spot of color in the room—was any indication, the sweet-natured redhead would have these sparse quarters looking more like a home in no time.
“You should know we’ve had more trouble,” Clint said. “The Ramseys’ barn burned down last night. It was a total loss.”
Lije’s expression turned grave. “There weren’t any fatalities, thank the good Lord.”
Gideon shook his head in disgust. “Did they get all the animals out?”
“All but a milk cow,” Clint supplied. “They were fortunate.”
“Any idea how it started?”
“Not yet. Lars and I are looking into it.” His younger brother’s features hardened. “If it turns out it wasn’t an accident, we’ll find out who the perpetrators are and go after them.”
“These incidents are stirring up suspicion amongst the townsfolk, which is the last thing we need.” Sighing, Lije wearily massaged his neck. If Gideon knew his brother, he’d probably stayed up half the night tending to the Ramsey family’s needs. “Without unity and a sense of brotherhood, what kind of town will Brave Rock be?”
Not a place any decent folk would want to live, Gideon answered silently. If he were still a praying man, he’d ask God for assistance. Since he wasn’t, he’d just have to trust Clint’s prediction. The troublemakers would make a mistake eventually, which would lead to their arrest and, ultimately, peace for Brave Rock’s residents. Hopefully sooner rather than later, before someone got hurt or outright killed.
* * *
“Hold him steady. I’m almost done.” Evelyn’s pencil scraped across the page in light strokes. “I think this one is some type of earless lizard. We’ll look it up tonight before bed.”
Fortunately, she knew exactly which trunk contained their books. Drake had argued against bringing them out here, saying she wouldn’t have time for such unnecessary luxuries, but she’d been adamant. Walt enjoyed studying the pictures in the encyclopedia and almanac. And she wouldn’t dream of leaving her journals behind. They contained drawings and descriptions of all sorts of things—Rose Hill, their church in Virginia, flowers, butterflies and birds she’d encountered—a pictorial history of her life. Of course, Drake hadn’t seen any value in them.
“Done.” She snapped the book closed.
Walt raised the bluish-gray-and-black lizard closer to his face, ran a finger along its spindly spine and gingerly set it on the sloping bank, watching intently as it scurried behind the rocks. Shrugging, he turned to her. Red ringed his mouth, evidence of the berries he’d eaten for dessert. She picked up the basin of dirty dishes and carried it to the stream. Crouching beside him, she dipped a rag in the cool water. “Let’s clean your face, sweetheart. It’s a wonder you didn’t get a tummy ache from all those strawberries.”
Wearing a long-suffering expression, he stood still and let her work. Affection bubbled up in her. He was so beautiful, her little boy. His olive skin, dark, expressive eyes and distinctive features had been handed down from his Russian