Dorothy Clark (18 page)

“Sorry.” He jerked his hand back. “I didn’t know your hand was there.”

She pulled a moon penny free and held it out to him. “I’ll untangle the flowers and you plant them. The work will go faster that way.”

He nodded, took the daisy and planted it, the silence of the night stretching between them. She separated another flower and held it while he dug another hole. The moonlight shone on his face and she studied his features from beneath her lowered lashes, choking on the flutter that leapt from her stomach to her throat when he glanced her way.

She waited for his touch, but he took the flower by the root and turned back to his work.

She untangled the last flowers, rose and picked up the bundle of weeds, carried them to the fence and threw them into the woods on the other side, disposing of the evidence of her grandmother’s indiscriminate weeding.

A loose strand of hair tickled her cheek. She brushed it off her face with the back of her hand, felt the dirt clinging to her fingers and palms and brushed them together then looked up. Cole’s gaze was fastened on her. Warmth stole into her cheeks, and more sneaked into her heart. She lifted her chin. “I must look a sight.”

He shook his head, motioned with his hand. “You’ve a smudge of dirt on your cheek is all.”

The gruffness was back in his voice. She nodded, examined her hand for remaining dirt, then wiped at her cheek.

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. He strode to the well and pumped a bucketful of water.

An owl hooted. A coyote howled and was answered by another. She shivered and looked toward the woods.

“They’re only hunting food. There’s no danger from them.”

She looked back at him, so strong and sure and capable, and a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in a very long time swept through her. The shock of it held her silent.

He carried the water to the flowerbed. “This should have them standing up like soldiers by morning.”

“Cole...” He looked at her and it was a moment before she found her voice again. “When the coyotes howled...I was thinking of Nanna.” Her throat tightened. “I was ill and fell asleep earlier. When I woke it was dusk and Nanna was here in the garden weeding. Poppa had fallen asleep and Gertrude was in her room. No one was watching Nanna, and I keep thinking about what could happen if she...wandered off.” Tears flowed into her eyes, spilled over and clung to her lashes. She took a deep breath and wiped them away. “Would you...that is, I hate to impose, but...the gate swings free and...”

“I’ll put a latch on it tomorrow. One with a lock.”

The warmth and caring in his voice undid what remained of her control. A sob broke from her throat. He strode toward her but stopped short. His jaw clenched.

“Thank you, Cole.” Her voice broke. She lifted her gaze from his jaw to his eyes, cleared her throat and tried again. “I can’t express how much I appreciate what you do for Poppa and Nanna.”

He looked at her so long she went weak in the knees. He pulled in a breath she could hear from where she stood and looked away.

“Your grandmother is a special lady. She invited me for supper when the other residents of Pinewood had nothing but scorn and suspicion about me.”

As she had. How could she have been so wrong about him? “Cole—”

“I’ll see you safe to your door.”

The interruption was deliberate. She looked at the set of his jaw and nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you again for what you’ve done.” She walked up the path and climbed the steps. He stood like a rock at the bottom. She pulled open the door, nodded good evening and went inside.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
f he could find Payne, he’d beat him to a pulp! Of course that would only prove the violence he was capable of, the very thing he feared. Cole scowled down at his fisted hands pumping at his sides in rhythm with his pounding feet and sucked in a breath to satisfy his straining lungs.

Swimming the pond was too easy for tonight. He’d needed something hard enough to exhaust him beyond the point where he could stay awake, something to deaden his mind to thoughts of Sadie Spencer! The woman was a thorn in his side for sure. A temptation that was growing harder and harder for him to resist. He loved her heart and soul—and he couldn’t have her.

A growl tore from his throat, ripped from his heart by frustration and pain. It had been hard enough when her disgust and distrust of him stood between them, when the fear Payne had instilled in her with his depraved attack formed a wall she hid behind. But now...

His mouth went dry; his heart thudded. He staggered, caught his footing and picked up his pace, but the vision of Sadie standing so still and looking up at him with love and trust and wonder in her eyes stayed with him. He never should have broken down those walls.

A coyote howled somewhere up ahead, and something big moved through the woods at the side of the road. A bear? Good. He was of a mind to wrestle one. It would be a lot easier than trying to wrestle his heart.

He raced into the curve of the road, his legs flashing through the tree shadows that fell across the hard-packed dirt, his gaze scanning the area ahead for any danger.

Moonlight filtered through the towering trees and splashed pools of silver on the road. Deer snorted and bounded into the woods, fleeing his presence. A fox darted out from the trees and ran for cover on the other side.

He drove himself on, in the opposite direction of Butternut Hill, leaving behind the woman who drew him as no other, trying to outdistance the ache in his heart that cried out for her.

* * *

She was wrong. That was all. Cole’s behavior tonight proved that. Sadie lowered the cold cloth from her red, puffy eyes and paced around her bedroom. She had drawn the wrong conclusion. And that was not surprising. Her isolated existence behind the brick walls of the seminary in Rochester had left her ill-prepared to interpret the...the
glances...
of men. But not their actions. And Cole’s actions were very clear this evening.

Oh, it was all so confusing! Cole had always been thoughtful and kind and...and
nice.
And then there were those
moments...
and she’d thought...but then, somehow, everything changed. And she didn’t know how or why or even when, but now Cole didn’t want to be around her, and she wanted...well, she wanted
Cole.

The tears flowed again. “Oh, Nanna, I
need
you.” She swiped the tears from her cheeks and took a calming breath. There was no help available. She would simply have to solve this herself. Or perhaps there was nothing to solve. It had seemed as if Cole had looked at her the way her grandfather looked at her grandmother, but she was obviously wrong.

The curtains fluttered on the current of warm air flowing in the window. She turned her back, unable to bear the sight of her grandmother’s moonlit garden while her memory of the night was so raw.

She could remember how her grandfather had always squeezed her grandmother’s hand when he helped her in and out of the carriage, and Cole didn’t even want to
touch
her hand. He had done so accidentally tonight, and he’d withdrawn his hand very quickly and apologized. And after that he was careful not to touch her hand again, though he had many opportunities to do so.

She tied the fastening on her dressing gown and walked down the stairs, the hem whispering softly from step to step, her slippers tapping against the polished oak. She hadn’t been afraid tonight. At least, not in the way she had been before. God had answered her prayer and taken that terrible, debilitating fear from her. And the nightmare. She was now able to go to bed without fear of being awakened in a state of terror. She would be content in that.

But the way she had felt with Cole’s hand covering hers... He hadn’t been holding it, he’d never closed his fingers around her hand, though she’d thought he was going to once when his fingers twitched. Her breath had caught...and then he had withdrawn his hand and apologized for touching her. But, oh, she had wanted him to. She had wanted him to take her hand in his. And then later, when he had stood looking at her, she’d held so still, waiting...hoping....

She turned at the bottom of the stairs and walked toward the kitchen. The tea she’d made was still sitting in the teapot covered with a towel. She’d clean it up, make more tea and think about other things. Her responsibilities were going to increase and she had to be prepared.

Silence wrapped itself around her, and she stood there in the dark hallway filled with an ache she couldn’t deny or understand. She crossed into the dining room instead, opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

The moon had risen high overhead. The porch was in darkness, the moonlight sliding off its slanted roof to brush the garden at its feet with silver. A gentle breeze stirred the ends of her long hair, slipped beneath the edges of her dressing gown and billowed it softly as she moved to stand at the top of the steps. She plucked a rose from the climbing bush, twirled it between her fingers and breathed in its sweet fragrance.

Respect...trust...love...
Cole had garnered them so quietly she hadn’t realized it was happening. But it had. She’d known it tonight when she’d found him replanting her grandmother’s flowers.

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the post beside her, struggling to accept what she now knew was true. Cole had touched something deep inside her that had been closed away ever since Payne’s attack, and tonight it had opened fully to him. It had been rejected. Regret swelled the ache in her heart and brought a painful tightness to her throat.

“‘I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave no answer.’”

She whispered the beautiful words from the Bible’s Song of Solomon into the darkness. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She tossed the rose away and went into the house.

* * *

“Hey, Quick Stuff!”

“Daniel!” Sadie smiled and stepped out of Cargrave’s entrance onto the wood walkway. “What are you doing in town?”

“There was some shifting in the teams of workers and I finally got my days off. Things happen quick at a logging camp, and there’s no way of getting word out lest someone happens to be coming to town for some reason.”

“I understand.” She wrinkled her nose at him when he took her elbow to help her down the steps. “And I wasn’t complaining.”

“I was.” He grinned and reached for her package, his long fingers covering hers. “I’ll carry that for you.”

She looked down at their hands. There was no tingling warmth like she’d felt with Cole last night. She sighed at the loss of her childhood dream. Daniel was, and would always be, only a dear friend. “I was going to put it in the buggy and do some more shopping. I’m waiting for my grocery order to be filled.”

He placed her package on the seat and smiled down at her. “Meeting you here has spared me some time. I was planning to run out to Butternut Hill to call for you.”

She laughed and turned back toward the stores. “You mean like when you hid out behind the barn and pretended to be an owl?”

He chuckled and took her elbow as they climbed the steps to the walkway. “That was so your grandmother wouldn’t come out and throw me off the place.”

“I know.” She tried, but the sadness crept into her voice.

He shot a look at her. “I’m sorry about your grandma’s illness, Quick Stuff. That’s got to be hard for you.”

“It is. But there are good days. How is your mother?”

“Ma’s the same as always, chatting and cooking and praying.” He tossed another grin her way. “Mostly chatting.”

“Daniel.” She gave him a sidelong look.

His grin widened at her reproving tone. “Just speaking the truth. Ma does like to pass news around.” He pulled her to a halt. “How about you forget the shopping and I take you to the restaurant for dinner while you’re waiting for Ina to get around to your groceries?”

There was the warmth of a long friendship in his eyes. She pulled the comfort of it around her and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll have you know it’s big doings to eat at the Sheffield House restaurant. A bit different than in a big town like Rochester, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She gave his arm a tug. “Slow down. I’m a young lady now.”

“I noticed. I’d have to be blind not to.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned. “You’ve grown up a lot prettier than you promised back when you were all skinny arms and legs.”

“Daniel!”

“And you’re cute as a new fawn with your cheeks all pink like that.” He laughed and took her arm to start her walking again. “So you didn’t eat in fancy restaurants in Rochester?”

“I didn’t leave the seminary.” She was so discomposed the truth slipped out.

He stopped and looked down at her, his face tight, his green eyes shadowed. “I wish I’d found Payne Aylward, Sadie. I looked for him for weeks. We all did. Even Cole.”

Her pulse quickened at his name. She started walking again lest Daniel notice a change in her expression. “That had to be difficult for him.”

“It was—as much as we could make it.”

“What do you mean?” She asked the question, but she was afraid, from what Cole had said the other night, she already knew the answer.

“I mean he came into town a couple of days after...what happened, and none of us were in the mood to be friendly to an Aylward. He didn’t quit, though. He said he wanted Payne brought to justice, and he was out there prowling through the woods every day looking for his brother. We know because we watched him to be sure he brought Payne in if he found him.” His boots crunched across the gravel way beside the Sheffield House. He helped her up the steps to the porch and ushered her inside.

“Sadie! Daniel!” Sophia Sheffield hurried to them and gave them each a hug. “How good to see you. Though it’s a bit odd to see you here in the hotel instead of in my kitchen.”

Daniel grinned down at the proprietress. “I can’t very well ask my best girl to dinner in your kitchen, Mrs. Sheffield.”

“Your best girl?” Sophia faked shock. “Why, Daniel Braynard, I thought Callie was your best girl.”

“I lost your niece to Ezra Ryder.” He put on a mock-sad face.

“
And
you lost Willa to Matthew Calvert, Daniel.” Sadie laughed, held up her hand and extended a finger. “Callie—” and another finger “—Willa—” she frowned and extended another “—And me. Hmm, I believe that makes me best girl number three.”

Sophia laughed. “Unless you count Ellen.”

“Oh, of course, how could I forget?” She extended her fourth finger. “Ellen.”

“She doesn’t count. She’s in Buffalo.”

Daniel folded her pinky finger back down, but his grin looked a little sour.

“No. She’s in the dining room, with her parents.”

She looked at Sophia’s smiling face. “Truly?”

“Yes. And I know it’s been...a while since you’ve seen one another, so I’ll stop chatting and you two can go on in to the dining room. There’s a table free since the Haggers just left.”

“Thank you, Sophia.” She gave Callie’s aunt a quick hug and hurried down the hall to the dining room, jerking to a halt when Daniel grabbed her hand.

“I’ve got to treat my best girl right.” He smiled, tucked her hand through his arm and stepped into the dining room.

The hum of conversation stopped. Diners glanced their way, nodded, smiled, raised a hand in greeting.

“Sadie?”

She glanced at the beautiful, blonde, exquisitely gowned young woman rising from her chair. “Ellen?”

“That’s her.”

The words were a low-pitched growl behind her as she rushed forward into a mutual hug. “It’s so good to see you, Ellen!”

“And you, Sadie.” Ellen squeezed her, then stepped back, adjusted her small, flowered hat into its forward tilt over the blond curls dangling on her forehead and glanced beyond her. “Good afternoon, Daniel.”

“Hey, Musquash. You in town hiding out from all those rich squires of yours?”

Two spots of red sprang into Ellen’s cheeks. “Stop calling me that!”

“You like Muskrat better?” Daniel’s voice matched his grin.

“You’re perfectly
hateful,
Daniel Braynard.” Ellen fairly hissed the words. Daniel’s lips tightened at the edge of his grin.

“Are you two still fussing at one another?” She glanced from one to the other and shook her head. “You sound the same as when we were kids.”

“That’s because some people never learn their manners!” Ellen tossed her head and turned her back toward Daniel.

“And others never grow up.”

She glanced toward Daniel, shocked by the bitterness in the under-his-breath remark, then leaned down to give Ellen’s mother a quick hug. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hall...Mr. Hall.” She nodded to Ellen’s father, who was standing politely by his chair. “It’s so nice to see you both again.”

“It’s a shame we were just leaving.” Ellen grabbed the drawstrings on the purse sitting at her place at the table, turned and gave her another quick hug. “Please come to call on me, Sadie—when you’re
alone.
I’d love to visit with you.” She stepped back and lifted her chin. “I’m ready now, Father. Mother, shall we stop at the shop before we go home?”

“Yes, of course, Ellen.” Mrs. Hall rose and gave her a warm smile. “So nice to see you again, Sadie. Please remember me to your grandmother.”

“Thank you, I shall.” She stared after Ellen as she flounced out of the dining room with her parents in her wake, shocked by her friend’s display of bad manners. “Daniel, what—?”

He shook his head. “She’s above the likes of me now, Sadie. Has been for quite a while.” He smiled and placed his hand at her back to urge her forward. “We’d best take our seats. Your groceries will be ready soon.”