Chapter 10

10

Genevieve liked Ryder's family immensely.

As they finished the evening meal and Clementine passed around a platter with samples of her candy, Genevieve allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She took in the face of each person around the table, the large and noisy Oakley clan, the love evident in all the conversations and teasing.

The tension between Ryder and his brother Tanner was present as well, although she'd sensed Ryder trying hard to remain polite throughout the meal.

Regardless, she'd never enjoyed a meal more than she had with the Oakleys. Their teasing and laughter and sharing had been everything she'd imagined it would be like in a big family. Of course, she and Papa had always teased and laughed and shared too. They'd had many adventures, especially traveling the world and seeing countless cultures and places. She wouldn't have traded her precious time with him for any reason.

But a part of her had secretly wished for a bigger family—one like the Oakleys, who supported and encouraged and loved each other through all the joys and sorrows of life. Even extended family would have been a blessing, but except for a few distant relatives on her mother's side of the family, she'd had no one but Papa growing up.

Across the long table in the cozy kitchen, Tanner finished relaying another story about his adventures in the mountains and then settled his gaze upon Genevieve with unabashed interest. "I heard you were a fine lady, and now I can see that's true."

In the middle of tasting a delectable chocolate with mixed fruit and nuts, Genevieve froze. A lady? Was that what people were saying about her? And if so, why? Hadn't she made herself inconspicuous with her quaint clothing and simple lifestyle?

If word about her being a fine lady was spreading, how long would it take before someone connected her with the missing heiress?

From the chair beside her, Ryder shifted and pinned Tanner with a hard look.

Genevieve wasn't sure what was causing the discord between the two men, but Ryder and Tanner hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other during the entire meal.

It was easy to distinguish the familial relationship. Both were handsome men, with their warm brown eyes and angular, almost distinguished features. But the two were entirely opposite in personality. Tanner was more sociable and loquacious. Ryder, on the other hand, was introspective and quiet.

"So, Genevieve. Tell us more about yourself." The way Tanner said her name sounded almost as though he was questioning whether it really belonged to her.

Was he? Or was she projecting her insecurities and fears about being discovered? Over dinner she'd learned he traveled a great deal as a fur trapper and trail guide in the Rockies. Perhaps during a recent expedition, he'd spotted the news about her and had already questioned if she was the same Genevieve mentioned in the article.

"We'd love to hear more about your past." Tanner reclined casually.

Or was there something in his posture that was tense, as though he was hinting that he wanted her to tell the whole truth instead of hiding behind Constance Franklin's identity?

She hesitated. "I don't know where to start."

"You don't have to start anywhere." Ryder was speaking to her, but his gaze was upon Tanner. "Not everyone wants to talk about the past."

Sitting beside Tanner, Clementine paused in making silly faces at Boone. "We'd just like to get to know Genevieve better, that's all."

"You can get to know someone," Ryder growled, "without pestering them to talk about their past."

Tanner sat forward, the tension in his body growing more visible. "Not everyone is against bringing up past events. In fact, some people actually like discussing it."

Ryder shoved back from the table and stood. "So that's what this is. You're trying to badger me again?"

Tanner was on his feet in the next instant, all charm gone from his expression, replaced by frustration. "All I need is our family name, Ryder. Just the family name. You can give me that. I deserve it."

Ryder shook his head and began to round the table, veering toward the door. "I knew I shouldn't have stayed."

"You can't avoid me and the past forever."

Ryder stopped next to Clementine. "We're leaving. Thank you for supper."

Clementine nodded. "I'm glad you came."

Genevieve rose, not quite certain what to do. The others were watching the two brothers warily, probably had witnessed the fighting on previous occasions, because this clearly wasn't the first conflict.

Before Ryder could take Boone from Clementine, Tanner jabbed Ryder's arm. "You're a coward."

Ryder swung back at Tanner, his hit harder and sending Tanner against a cabinet, causing the dishes inside to clatter.

Maverick jumped up from his chair. "C'mon now, fellas."

Tanner thrust away from the cabinet, his brows furrowing above rapidly darkening eyes. "I'm tired of you treating me this way, Ryder."

In the next instant, Tanner rushed forward and dropped his shoulder into Ryder's gut. The force sent Ryder backward, slamming him into the wall. A portrait of a happy couple fell to the floor, the glass frame shattering.

"Stop!" Clementine shouted.

Startled at the noise, Boone's arms flailed, and he released a piercing wail.

But all the attention was still fixed upon Tanner and Ryder. Tanner lunged at Ryder and threw a punch into Ryder's jaw, then another against his nose. Ryder's fists were clenched at his sides, and this time he made no move to fight his brother back.

"That's enough!" Maverick latched on to Tanner and hauled him away from Ryder.

Breathing hard and muttering under his breath, Tanner allowed Maverick to lock his arms behind his back.

Ryder remained against the wall, blood dribbling from his nose. His gaze was still locked with Tanner's, and it was filled with frustration. Tanner's expression, on the other hand, was taut with anger.

Maverick jerked against Tanner's arm to hold him back. "Beating up Ryder ain't gonna solve the problems."

"He's left me with no choice." Tanner spat the words.

Ryder just shook his head, then stepped toward Clementine and picked up Boone, whose cries were escalating. He cradled the baby in one arm before circling around the table toward Genevieve. Though his face was hard and his back rigid, his hand on her arm was gentle as he began to guide her toward the door.

Clementine followed them outside and said goodbye. Ryder gave his sister a hug but otherwise didn't say anything in return and was silent for the ride home. By the time they reached the homestead valley and the cattle came into view, the sky was lavender and peach in the west above the jagged mountain heights. Long shadows surrounded the cabin and barn, and the last rays of sunlight glinted on the distant meadows, turning the dried grass to flaming amber.

Boone had settled down, the rocking of the ride having lulled him to sleep. As Genevieve took him from Ryder, she wanted to say something—anything—to express how sorry she was for all that had happened. She didn't know who was at fault for the conflict and suspected both brothers were being stubborn. But she did know Ryder hadn't wanted to fight back, that he'd restrained himself from hurting Tanner. And she was proud of him for it.

However, Ryder didn't give her the chance to speak and was already leading their mounts into the barn. Instead, she carried Boone to the house, readied him for bed, then fed him his last bottle of the day. Once he was finished and asleep in his cradle, she went through her nightly ritual of sponge bathing, donning the night gown she'd purchased in Independence, and then brushing her hair. She didn't do one hundred strokes the way Lenora had required. Instead, she did fifty. Because the number suited her.

With every passing day away from Lenora's control, Genevieve's energy and lifeblood flowed with more strength and vigor. Or maybe the fresh air, homegrown food, and clear creek water were reviving her.

Whatever it was, she absolutely loved the freedom of being on her own with only the baby needing her. And even that wasn't so demanding.

Yes, there were times when she felt out of place and insecure—like earlier in the day when she'd attempted to scrub laundry for the first time. But somehow she'd figured out the process, thankful that she'd had the occasion to watch Constance doing laundry for the orphans a time or two.

As she pulled back the covers on the bed, she hesitated. She didn't want to crawl in and go to sleep as she had the previous nights—not without first learning how Ryder was faring. Even if he didn't want to converse about the fight with his brother, she could assist with his bloody nose or scrub the blood out of his shirt. She could at least do that, couldn't she?

She warmed water on the stove in preparation. As she waited, she lowered herself into the rocker beside the stove and curled up.

She wasn't sure how much time had elapsed when she awoke to find Ryder gently lifting her out of the chair and situating her against his chest. As he started to carry her toward the bed, she released a breath of protest. "I have water heating and must doctor your wounds."

"I'm okay." His voice was soft, tender.

"Please allow me to do this for you, Ryder." She wiggled in an effort to make him put her down.

He paused halfway to the bed.

"It will only take a few minutes."

He stared ahead at the log wall, his jaw flexing. Then with a nod, he lowered her gently to her feet.

She guided him to the rocker and pushed him down. Thankfully, he didn't protest, and as she stood at the stove and poured some of the warm water into a basin, she could feel him watching her every move.

For a reason she didn't understand, his attention flustered her so that she spilled a little of the water. And as she carried the basin back to him and placed it on the barrel that served as a side table, she was afraid her hands would begin to tremble and that she might spill more water.

She dipped in the rag, soaked it with the warm water, then wrung it out. All the while, he continued to study her. As she finally lifted the rag and turned to face him, the warmth and reverence in his eyes sent flutters through her stomach.

This wasn't about her, though. He'd been hurt and had a terrible argument with his brother. He needed someone to comfort him, someone he could lean upon, someone who would support him. And she wanted to be that person.

"This might hurt a little," she whispered, bringing the rag to the dried blood above his lip and below his nose. Carefully, she wiped at the splotch.

He didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't even seem to be breathing.

She dabbed again, blotting up most of the blood. "Is that okay?"

He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

She shifted back to the bowl of water, rinsed the rag, and then after wringing it, she dabbed his upper lip, which was swollen and split and oozing blood. "This seems to be your worst injury."

He was so near that her knees were brushing against his, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her fingertips. He'd discarded his hat when he'd come in, and his hair was wavy and messy, the way it got when he stuffed his fingers into it.

She was tempted to smooth it down. But that would be highly inappropriate, wouldn't it? Or would it be one more way to let him know she was here for him and wanted to help him?

She pressed against his lip more firmly, hoping to staunch the flow. "How's that?"

Instead of answering with words, he took the rag from her hand and set it in the basin. Before she could back away, he settled both of his hands upon her hips and drew her around so that she stood between his knees.

Her heart gave a wild thump. What was he doing?

He released a long sigh, then lowered his head so that his forehead touched her stomach. Although he still didn't say anything, she had the feeling he wanted to talk about Tanner and express his frustration.

That was what she wanted him to do, wasn't it? She couldn't very well back away from him and put a proper distance between them—not when he needed someone to listen.

His fingers upon her hips splayed and tightened. He'd touched her in bed accidentally a few times, mostly a brush of his leg or arm while shifting positions. Just that morning, his arm had ended up around her, but not for long. And his fingers had woven through strands of her hair on occasion.

Her body hadn't reacted to those brief encounters—at least, not much.

But now? A strange pleasure tightened low in her abdomen. Was she growing attracted to Ryder?

She couldn't name exactly what it was about him that seemed to draw her in. He wasn't the polished and clean-shaven type she was accustomed to in her social circles. Regardless, he was still good-looking in his own way, with his brooding eyes, lean features, and muscular body.

She couldn't let herself be drawn in though. She'd made the resolution the first day she'd met him. It wouldn't be fair of her to let an attraction develop—not when she planned to return home after she was twenty-one and free of Lenora's guardianship. And it wouldn't be fair of him to pursue an attraction either—not when he'd told her he only wanted a mother for his baby.

Even so, she liked Ryder. And she was glad she did. Having an amiable relationship would make the coming months much easier.

She let herself relax, and she placed her hands upon his shoulders in what she hoped was nothing more than a consoling gesture—one she hoped would reassure him that if he wanted to express anything to her, she was willing to listen. She'd always listened to her papa, had always been there for him, so this was something she could do, something she was good at.

He rested his head more solidly against her, as if he understood she was there to help bear his burdens, that he didn't have to do it alone any longer.