Authors: Linda Ford
Slim stood before a workbench in dark pants and a light brown shirt, his hair slicked back, reminding Sybil it was Sunday and people at the ranch were preparing for the church service. “Is Eddie about?” She hadn't seen him on the way toward the barn.
“Last I seen of him he was taking feed to the pigs.”
Even on Sunday, a day of rest, the animals had to be fed.
Slim's attention riveted on Brand. “Can I do something for you?”
“Dawg is hurt. If you could let me use a stall to doctor him up, I'd be grateful.”
Slim nodded, but didn't make a move toward the dog. Like the others on the ranch, he'd learned to keep his distance. “Far pen is clean and empty. Help yourself. I'll let the boss know.”
“Thanks.”
Sybil followed the horse and rider down the aisle and swung the gate open. Brand slowly dismounted. Dawg growled a protest. “Sorry, old pal, but I gotta do this.” He looked about. “I need the saddle blanket for him.” He nodded toward the blanket still on the horse's back, beneath a large saddle.
She assumed he meant for her to get it for him, but she had no idea how. “Tell me what to do and I'll get it.”
“Take off the saddle.”
“I don't know how.” Surely that was the weakest thing she'd ever said.
“Reach under and undo the cinch.”
Reach under the horse? “He's big.”
“He's used to it.”
Ignoring the trembling of her insides, she did as Brand directed. She should have followed Mercy's example and learned to do these things for herself.
Slim moseyed to the pen. “Here. Let me.”
Gratefully, she stepped back. She couldn't look at Brand. He'd think her useless. But she'd never ridden a horse unless it had been saddled and brought to her. As she considered the fact now, she vowed she would remedy that as soon as she had a chance.
She grabbed the saddle blanket and arranged it on a mound of hay Slim put out.
Brand gingerly lowered Dawg to the bed and knelt beside him.
Slim shook his head. “That don't look good.”
Sybil caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It certainly didn't. Dawg had been torn to pieces. It looked as if clotted blood and matted hair was all that kept him together.
“He'll survive.” Brand made it sound like an order. “Most of it is only skin deep.”
“I'll get the supplies.” Slim stepped out and returned in a moment with a box of veterinarian necessities, which he put at Brand's side.
Dawg bared his teeth and growled.
“Sure ain't discouraged his bad attitude.” Slim stalked away.
Sybil knelt at Brand's side, resisted an urge to pat his hand. “What do you need me to do?”
“You want to hold him or stitch him?”
She gasped. “You're going to sew him together?”
“Got to.” She felt a shudder race up Brand's body. And this time she followed her instincts and pressed her hand to his arm. Later, she would return to her vow to forget him, to remind herself that he was leaving...that he was the sort of person she should avoid if she didn't want her heart torn asunder again.
“You have to do what you can to save him. I'll help.” She edged around to Dawg's head. “I'll hold him.” She gave Brand an unblinking look. “We can do this.”
He nodded. “He ain't gonna like it much, and as Slim said, Dawg's got a bad attitude toward most people.”
“He'll be good for me, won't you, Dawg?” She scooted closer, put the animal's head between her knees. “Dawg, I'm here to help,” she murmured softly. “So is Brand, but then you know that. I expect it will hurt some.” She drew in a steadying breath. “But it's only because we want to help.”
Dawg whined.
She cupped her hands over his head. “We're ready.”
Dawg flinched as Brand pushed back the matted hair and dabbed away the blood. Then he threaded the needle and held it poised above the wound.
“He ain't gonna like it.”
Sybil leaned over the animal. “Dawg, you can't fight.”
“Don't put your face so close. What if he bites?”
She jerked back, her eyes widening in shock.
“I'm just saying he's a dog with an anger problem, and what I'm about to do is gonna hurt.” Brand's jaw clenched and he began his task.
Dawg yelped. He snarled. He fought. He tried to free his head so he could stop Brand, but Sybil held him tight.
Brand pressed his knees to Dawg's paws to immobilize them, and continued the job.
“It's okay,” Sybil crooned over and over, not certain if the words were meant for Dawg, her or Brand.
Brand paused and wiped his forehead on his shirtsleeve. He threaded the needle again, clenched his jaw so tight the muscle corded and continued sewing.
Sybil's arms began to ache from restraining the dog. Her vision blurred several times as she saw how much pain it caused the animal. She bit back a cry and had to turn away when she observed the agony on Brand's face.
Finally he finished and put everything away before he fell back on his heels.
Sybil collapsed against the wall as Brand stroked Dawg's head.
“I'm all done, old pal.” He raised weary eyes to her. “I just hope it's good enough.”
“You did your best.”
“Thanks for your help.”
She nodded, her heart bursting with so many things she couldn't even name them. Sorrow at the pain Dawg had endured. Admiration and pity at how Brand had done what was necessary. And a feeling that went deeper than any of that. A sense of having been part of something wonderful with a man who continued to earn her respect with his courage and determination.
The warning bells rang inside her head.
He'd won her admiration, even as he had earned her caution. He'd left once without a word. She knew he'd do it again, but she wouldn't let him take her heart with him when he did.
He met and held her gaze. “You asked what was the hardest thing I ever did. I'd like to change my answer. This was.”
Dawg whimpered and they both sprang forward.
“Do you think he would take a drink?” she asked.
“Sure would be good if he did.”
“I'll find something.” She got stiffly to her feet and went in search of a dish. She found a battered tin bowl on the workbench and stepped outside to dip it in the trough, then took it back to Dawg. As she sat again, she placed it at his muzzle, but he showed no interest.
“Guess he's too exhausted at the moment.” She set the bowl where he could reach it.
“He's a trooper.” Brand sounded weary. “So are you.”
She faced him, saw gratitude in his eyes.
His gentle smile curved his mouth and softened the skin around it. “You did real well.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You did the hard stuff.”
He turned his hand and caught hers. “We did it together.”
She couldn't move, couldn't break away from his touch nor end the look between them. It went on and on. Reaching deep corners, touching tender spots, awakening places she'd vowed to guard. She fought to regain control.
Booted footsteps sounded in the aisle and she jerked her hand free and relocked her heart.
Eddie leaned over the gate. “Heard your dog met with some kind of accident.”
“A cougar.”
“Sorry to hear that.” The rancher made it sound like a death sentence.
Sybil immediately sat up taller. “Brand sewed him back together and did a fine job.” Her voice carried more assurance than it had a few minutes ago, but Brand wasn't ready to give up on Dawg and neither was she.
“Linette sent me to say it's time for church,” Eddie said. He addressed Sybil, then his gaze went to Brand, as if considering the situation. “You're welcome to join us.”
He shook his head. “Thanks all the same, but I'll be staying with Dawg, if that's okay.”
Eddie nodded.
Sybil rose and brushed off her skirts. She crossed to the gate, which Eddie held open for her. Then she turned back to the man and his dog. “I'll be back.” It was a promise.
He flicked a glance at her in acknowledgment.
As she accompanied Eddie to the house, she made a silent vow.
She'd help Brand with Dawg. But she would not let her barriers down again.
Chapter Eight
S
ybil had to hurry to change her clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. It would take a lot of scrubbing and spot removing to make the dress wearable again. She pulled a clean frock on and brushed her hair into submission, then rushed out to join the others as they made their way to the cookhouse, where church was held.
She found a seat beside Mercy and glanced around. The place was crowded. As usual, Ward and Grace and her little sister, Belle, joined them. Ward had once worked for Eden Valley Ranch, but moved to his own place after he married Grace. Ward's mother accompanied them. She had her own house on their ranch.
Jayne and Seth came across the road. Cassie, Roper and their four children joined them from the foreman's house.
Sybil adjusted her skirts and settled into a more comfortable position as Cookie rose to lead the singing. And then her husband, Bertie, spoke. Sybil had learned to appreciate his homespun talks.
After the service, as they left the cookhouse, she glanced toward the barn, but saw no sign of Brand. She couldn't slip away to see him and Dawg as everyone but the cowboys made their way to the big house, where Linette would soon serve a meal. Sybil helped with the preparations. Then she sat through the leisurely lunch and listened to visiting among old friends.
Over and over her mind skittered to the barn, where Brand and Dawg sat alone. She sought to still her thoughts. It wasn't as if Brand needed anything. Cookie had already sent over a plate of food.
Slim or one of the other cowboys would be about if Brand needed something for Dawg.
No, he certainly didn't need her, and she would do well to stay away from him as much as possible if she meant to guard her heart. But she would allow herself a visit to check on Dawg, and because she had promised to return.
However, after the meal, there were dishes to do. And the usual Sunday afternoon activities, which she normally enjoyed. Only today they seemed to go on and on. Would Brand wonder if she meant to keep her promise?
She gave a mental snort. Most likely he hadn't even paid attention to her words nor noted her absence.
Finally, the guests departed. Linette hid a yawn, then announced she'd have a nap, if no one minded.
“We're perfectly capable of entertaining ourselves,” Sybil said. Now she'd be able to slip away to check on Brand. And Dawg, she insisted. “I'm going for a walk.”
“I'll join you.” Mercy fell in at her side. “Unless you prefer I didn't come along.” She nudged Sybil.
“Now, why wouldn't I want your company?” Except her friend was right. She'd hoped to be on her own.
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you want to spend time with a certain cowboy.”
Mercy was far too perceptive, but Sybil wouldn't give her the satisfaction of letting her know it.
“I wonder what Jayne's doing,” Sybil said.
“I expect she's enjoying time with Seth. You're stuck with me.”
“I don't mind.”
“It's nice of you to say so.” Mercy directed their steps away from the ranch house and up the hill, until they could view the road to Edendale. “It's been a long while since we went to town. Do you think we could persuade Linette it's time for a trip?”
“What do you need in town? It seems the ranch has everything you could want.”
Mercy sighed. “Not everything.” But she didn't elaborate. She stared in the direction of Edendale and sighed again.
Sybil recognized her friend's restlessness. But she didn't share it. “Let's go back.”
“Why? There's nothing back there. Everyone has someone to spend the afternoon with.”
Sybil tucked her arm around Mercy's and pulled her close. “We have each other.” She couldn't leave her friend alone in this mood. “Let's walk along the river.” That was one of their favorite pastimes.
Mercy shrugged. “We've done that a hundred times.”
“So let's do it a hundred and one.”
“Oh, very well.”
Sybil knew Mercy agreed only because she could think of nothing else to do. They wandered along the river for a bit.
“This is pleasant.” Sybil pointed out the birds in the trees nearby. “They sing so nicely, don't they?”
Mercy shrugged. “They're just birds.”
They reached the bridge and saw Seth wave as he headed to the barn.
“He's going to do chores,” Sybil said. “Let's go visit Jayne.”
Mercy let herself be shepherded toward the cabin.
“Come on in and help me arrange these flowers.” Jayne had a basket of golden gaillardia, white daisies and branches with clusters of red berries. She handed Sybil a blue pitcher and Mercy a tall red tin. She had a glass vase. “I love to brighten up the place.”
Would the Sunday activities never end? But Sybil tucked away her impatience, chose her flowers carefully and cut the stems in various lengths. She envisioned a full, well-shaped bouquet.
Mercy grabbed an assortment of flowers and branches and stuck them in the tin, then stepped back. “I like it wild and free like that.” She moved toward the door. “I'm going to practice my roping. I've got to get it down to a fine art if I'm going to catch a man that way.” She laughed merrily as she closed the door behind her.
Sybil stared after her. “You don't think she really means it, do you?”
Jayne shrugged. “I can name at least two cowboys who would willingly let her rope them.” She chuckled. “Not that she'd need to.”
“I hope she doesn't make a foolish mistake and fall in love unwisely.” Sybil paused, then added, “I can see her seeking someone wild and untamed. Wouldn't that make for a fine pair?”
Jayne held a branch of red berries and considered Sybil. “You mean like Brand?”
It was exactly what she thought, but she didn't want to admit it to either herself or her friend.
Jayne didn't wait for her to answer. “He's certainly wild and untamed, but I don't sense any spark between him and Mercy. Not like I do with you.”
Sybil pushed her thoughts into submission. “What do you mean? I'd never be interested in someone like him. Why, he never stays in one place.”
“He might if he had reason enough.”
“He's running from something.”
“Probably. But sooner or later, don't people have to stop running? I had to stop running from my fears. You need to stop running from yours. So does he. There comes a time when we need to trust God for those things.”
“Me? I'm not running. What on earth do you mean?”
Jayne gave a tender smile. “You runâor maybe hideâfrom change. You think it's the same as danger.”
Sybil drew back, her upper lip stiff. “I left home and crossed the continent to get here. That's a lot of change. And a lot of danger. So you are wrong. So very very wrong.”
Jayne shrugged, her smile never fading. “Would you ever consider following a man like Brand into the wilds?”
“No.” Her lungs clenched so, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't leave the safety of her life. Certainly not to follow a man who would surely ride away one day and leave her on her own.
Her friend nodded, then leaned forward and caught Sybil's arm. “Don't be so careful you rob yourself of the very thing you seek.”
“Of course I won't.” She said the words automatically, not sure what Jayne thought she sought. Thankfully, Jayne didn't ask, because Sybil couldn't have answered honestly. Nor could she stop her errant heart from seeing Brand as the answer to the question. Brand riding a rank horse. Brand, his leg hurt, but revealing no pain. Brand building a swing to remind her of the sweetness of time with Suzette. Brand with his injured dog cradled gently in his arms. Brand sewing up the same dog, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to do something very difficult.
“I think he's a man a person could count on.” Jayne patted Sybil's arm and returned her attention to arranging her flowers.
She had voiced the very thing Sybil knew was impossible. The only thing she could count on from Brand was that he'd leave.
She took her time finishing her own flower display. Rearranged it several times even after she was satisfied. Fussed with a dry leaf, all the while knowing she did it to keep from hurrying back to the barn to check on Dawg. And Brand.
* * *
She wouldn't return. It was best if she didn't. But every time the door opened or the floor squeaked, Brand jerked his head up. Eddie came by twice. Slim brought Brand a cup of coffee and plate of food from the cookhouse. A couple other cowboys he didn't recall the names of stopped at the gate and grunted when Dawg growled at them.
Brand waited until they left to scold Dawg. “You gotta stop scaring everyone away.” Guess it was Brand's fault the dog did so. He'd kind of encouraged it. Made it easier to move on if he kept everyone ten feet away.
The door opened and he knew it was Sybil even before Dawg whined in anticipation. Brand's heart took off in a wild leap, like a horse bucking. His nerves tingled. All because her quiet entrance informed him of her presence.
In the few seconds it took for her to reach the pen, he gave himself a serious scolding. Letting anyone get close to him put them in jeopardy. He would disappear into the wilds before he brought any danger to Miss Sybil. He needed toâ
But before he could decide what it was he ought to do, Sybil cracked open the gate and stepped inside.
“How's he doing?” She nodded toward Dawg.
Dawg opened his eyes, but didn't lift his head.
Sybil sank down at the dog's side. “Cookie gave me some beef broth. It will give Dawg strength.” She gently lifted his head and held the tin bowl to his muzzle.
Dawg whined a protest.
“Come on, try it. You'll like it. It will help you.”
Brand figured Dawg lapped at the liquid simply to please Sybil. But four laps was all he managed.
Sybil lowered his head. “Good boy.” She stroked him. “You're doing just fine.” She leaned back against the wall next to Brand, where he sat with his knees drawn up. “How are you doing?”
“Me?” He almost jolted at her question. “I'm not the one hurt.”
“But he's your dog. I know how fond you are of him.”
“He'll survive.”
“You're right. He's tough.”
Brand chuckled, though he felt no mirth. “He's mean. Too mean to die.”
She patted his hand where he pressed it to his knee. “You're talking like that because it hurts to think of him injured.”
Brand stiffened. Did she have any idea how her touch flooded his insides with warmth and something sweet as honey on fresh bread? But he must resist such notions. “Says who?”
She squeezed his hand, an action that likewise squeezed his heart until he grew light-headed. “If you didn't care you wouldn't have come back and sewed him up yourself.”
“A man has to take care of his beasts.” No way would he admit to deeper feelings. He was Brand. A nameless, homeless cowboy who never showed a speck of emotion. He must maintain the illusion.
She laughed, the sound dancing through him. “You're more than you want people to see.”
The truth of her words melted his resolve. How he longed to be more than he could allow. But it was impossible. Nothing would change the fact he was a Duggan.
Female voices came down the aisle.
Sybil glanced up. “That's Jayne and Mercy.”
When two women peered over the gate of the pen, Sybil introduced Jayne.
“I heard about your misfortune,” Jayne said. “So sorry.”
“You'd be the other young lady who recently came from England.”
“That's correct.”
Mercy gave a teasing grin. “She's already married, though she had to shoot Seth to catch him.”
“Mercy, at least tell the truth.” Sybil's voice held shock. “I can't get over how you make things seem other than what they are.”
Brand swallowed the accusation. Wasn't that exactly what he was doing? She'd be just as shocked to learn the truth he hid.
Mercy wrinkled her nose. “It is the truth, isn't it, Jayne?”
“It's sort of true,” Jayne confessed. She fixed Brand with her confident smile. “I did shoot him, though it was an accident.”
Brand chuckled. “I think the three of you might put all the young men in the area at risk.”
Mercy grinned. “I'd never shoot a man to catch him, but I might rope him.” She swung her arm to illustrate. “I've been practicing.”
Sybil sighed. “Have you got someone in mind?”
Her friend appeared to study the question. “I've got it under consideration,” she finally said.
“I would never stoop to such things.” Sybil's voice was filled with caution. “I'm content to let God do the work for me.”
Well, that left Brand outâif he'd ever considered he was in. God would not be working out anything, not even an accidental shooting, or a roping. He grinned at his foolish thoughts.
“Sometimes God expects us to do a little work ourselves,” Mercy replied.
“Well, I've no intention of shooting a man nor of roping him.”
Mercy and Jayne both considered Sybil with determination in their eyes. She shifted and studied a board at the bottom of the gate as if it held important information.
The two other women turned to each other.
“There are equally effective, gentler ways, don't you think?” Jayne said.
“Oh, indeed. Some men are best caught by kindness. You knowâ” Mercy tipped her head toward the dog “âlike helping out in a tough situation.”
Sybil bolted to her feet, her cheeks red enough to ignite the hay on the floor. “I'm only...” She lifted her skirts and prepared to depart. But she hesitated at the last moment, as if reconsidering. “I'll be back to check on Dawg.”
She accompanied the others down the aisle.
Brand chuckled softly. Seems her friends thought she might be a little interested in him.