Chapter 15

15

L eah squinted at the tiny hole of the needle in her hand. The mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the open doorway glinted off the little metal cylinder, making it a challenge to poke the black thread through the miniature opening.

Miriam hummed "Holy, Holy, Holy" in the rocking chair beside Leah's bed, still stationed in the main room of the cabin. Her fingers flew as she crocheted a sock out of uncolored yarn.

Leah finally threaded the needle, then began creating a series of knots to bind the loose ends of the thread together. She lifted her focus to her friend. "That hymn has always been one of my favorites."

Miriam nodded agreement, but kept humming as she reached the chorus.

Emotion from the melody filled Leah's chest. "I once heard an opera soloist perform that song in my church in Richmond. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. That day, I decided that's the song I want sung over my grave when I die."

Miriam's humming ceased, as did her crochet hook, and her sea green eyes grew round as half dollars. "Leah, what a morbid thought."

A blush warmed her cheeks. "It's just such a beautiful hymn. And what better testimony after my life ends than to give praise to the One who put me here to begin with?"

Miriam's hands began to move again. "I suppose so. But I try not to think about death—mine or anyone else's."

Poor Miriam. She really had been through the loss of more loved ones than anyone her age should have to endure. It was amazing she could remain so positive and upbeat, always smiling or chattering away.

Her brother, on the other hand, was Miriam's complete opposite. Had she seen him smile yet? What had Abel been like? Quiet and sober like Gideon? Dare she ask?

"Miriam?" Leah kept her face focused on the tear she mended in Miriam's jacket.

"Mmhmm."

"Would you mind telling me about Abel? Was he as solemn as Gideon is?"

Miriam looked up, a faraway glimmer in her eyes and the hint of a smile touching her lips. "Abel wasn't solemn, not in the least. He loved to laugh and joke. He had Mama's red hair, so of course he could get riled if wanted. But he loved people."

She blinked and focused her dark green eyes on Leah. "Of course, Gideon wasn't always such a stick-in-the-mud either. He didn't joke around much like Abel, but he always had dreams and wanted to do big things. Once you got him talking about his ideas, you couldn't get him to stop." Her face held the rueful look only a sister could master.

"What kind of dreams?"

Miriam shrugged. "He carried on Pa's dream for the ranch, especially the horses. He's always wanted to breed the best horses in Montana. He's really excited about that colt he brought up a few days ago." She waved a hand dismissively. "You should ask him about the rest."

Hmm. Maybe she would.

"You said Gideon had a wife once. What happened to her?"

Miriam took so long before speaking, Leah almost asked again. Maybe she hadn't heard.

Finally, she answered, her attention never leaving the yarn and needle in her hands. "Jane was a nice girl. Real pretty. Gideon met her down in Butte City when he went for supplies. Her pa was a miner there, back when the mines were big business. I never could decide if he loved her or just felt sorry for her.

"Anyway, he brought her home and she settled in. Mama and Pa were already gone by then, and I was excited to have another woman around the house. She hated it here, though. I think mountain life scared her. Not that it was much tamer in town, but she hated the wild animals and the hard work and cooking without many store-bought provisions." Miriam lifted her chin, her eyes taking on that faraway look again. This time, though, the smile wasn't there.

"Did she run away?"

Miriam shook her head and released a sigh, dropping her eyes back to the half-finished heel in her hands.

"She was bit by a rattlesnake. She'd ridden out to take lunch to the boys, and I guess it spooked her horse. She made it back to the house on foot, but by then the poison was in her blood. She died that same day."

Leah's throat tightened. How awful.

"Gideon always blamed himself—for bringin' her up here in the first place, and then for not bein' there when she needed him."

"But it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have known a snake would bite her." Why was she defending him to his own sister?

Miriam shook her head. "I know that. We all tried to tell him, but he never would listen. That's about the time he stopped talkin' so much."

A burn crept up her throat to sting her eyes. What a sad, sad story. If only she could make things better for this strong man who carried so much unnecessary burden. If only she could make him believe the truth, help him shoulder some of his load. She couldn't explain her desire, but it was so real her chest ached. Maybe she could start by helping him dream again.

Leah perched on the edge of the bed, watching Miriam scurry around the kitchen, putting away dishes. She'd been up for breakfast, but her leg still ached enough it was hard to spend too much time on the crutches. Her body tired quickly these days.

"So what's on your to-do list for today?"

Miriam didn't stop to look at Leah, but kept flitting from table to counter to shelf as she answered. "I need to go out and do some weeding in the garden. The grass is almost as tall as my green bean plants. It'll take over soon if I let it."

Outside. A bit of sunshine was exactly what she needed to get her strength back. "If you'll help me change dresses, I'll work in the garden with you."

Miriam shot a skeptical look over her shoulder as she lifted the stack of tin plates onto the shelf. "I don't know if you're ready for that yet."

"Please? I can sit between the rows and scoot along as I pull weeds." Leah tried to add a touch of sweetness to the pleading in her voice.

Miriam released a short laugh. "Leah Townsend, a member of Richmond's elite, is begging me to let her crawl through the dirt in my little garden? Your friends would never believe it."

Leah wanted to stick her tongue out at the girl, but settled for wrinkling her nose. "They'll never know if you don't tell them."

Miriam laughed again as she wiped her hands on her apron and moved toward Leah's bed chamber. "Which dress do you want me to get?"

"The gray homespun. It should be in the bottom of the smaller trunk. And thank you."

Miriam rolled her eyes as she walked from the room.

Two hours later, she'd received a taste of how much work a garden was. Not that she'd complain, though. The sun was glorious on her back and she'd never known how much fun it was to crumble dirt in her hands. If only Emily could see her now. She'd either sit down and cry, or hug her sides from laughter.

Leah braced her hands in the dirt behind her and scooted back to reveal another section of grass to pull. Her splinted leg drug in the dirt, with brown streaks on the bandages. After this little escapade, the cloth would need to be changed for sure.

She blew out a breath to clear her face of the wispy brown tendrils that had escaped her chignon. They fell right back in her eyes, so she raised an arm to wipe them away.

Before reaching for another hunk of grass, she stopped to survey the four long rows of green beans, peppers, and lettuce they'd weeded. Each row was about fifty feet long, so they'd made good progress this morning. Of course, Miriam had done three to Leah's one, but at least she'd done something productive.

She'd better get moving again to finish this row. Miriam had already gone inside to put lunch on the table, so Leah would need to hobble in soon. She reached for a clump of grass, but a motion at the top of her vision caught her attention.

A snake slithered toward her, its head raised not a foot from her leg.

Terror clutched her chest and she screamed.

A mighty blast exploded—loud enough to be from a cannon.

Pieces of the snake flew in all directions.

Gideon's heart pumped like the hooves of a stampeding herd as he let his gun slide to the ground. His hands balled into fists to keep from shaking as he charged toward the woman on the ground.

He was pretty sure he'd gotten there before the snake struck, but his mind kept throwing images at him—Jane lying on the bed, the dress torn off at her shoulder to reveal the arm swollen three sizes too big. Black skin seeping up to her shoulder. The look of sheer agony as tears streamed down her cheeks.

He reached the woman on the ground, and it took a moment for his mind to register what he saw.

This wasn't Jane. It was Leah.

Her face didn't wear the crazed fear and pain Jane's had. He crouched for a better look and drank in the trust in her eyes. No fear, just strength there. He wanted to cry.

"Are you hurt?" He heard the huskiness in his voice, but had no control to change it.

"I'm fine. Except…"

His chest picked up speed again. She had been hurt.

"Except what? Did it bite you?"

Her lips tipped up then. She was smiling?

"No, no. I'm fine, except…you're cutting off the blood flow in my arm."

Gideon looked down at his hands. By golly, he was clutching her arm like it would save his life. He loosened his grip and rose to his feet. "Sorry." He blew out a long breath.

He was about to step away from the beautiful woman that had just cut ten years off his life, but a glance at his feet showed he was dangerously close to squashing a green bean plant. That would never do.

Anyway, he needed to get Leah out of the garden and back in the cabin where she'd be safe.

"C'mon. Let's get you inside." He bent down again to help her stand, but a look around revealed her crutches at the other end of the row.

"If you would be so kind as to bring my crutches, I can take it from there."

But when he looked into Leah's face, pain lines stretched around her eyes and a weary expression clouded them. It looked like she'd more than overdone it for the day. "It'll be easier if I carry you in."

"But Mr. Bryant?—"

The moment he scooped her up, her protest ceased. Her petite frame fit so well in his arms. As he carried her the thirty strides to the front of the cabin, her head rested against his shoulder. A wave of warmth flowed through his chest, a balm to the dull ache he'd carried so long.

Miriam met them on the porch, a hand shading her worried eyes from the sun.

"Is she all right? What happened?"

"I'm fine." Leah's voice was patient, motherly. "There was a snake in the garden, but Gideon shot it before anything happened."

He slipped sideways through the doorway so he didn't bump Leah. When he reached the bed, he eased her down onto it, and his arms and chest immediately felt the loss.

The expression Leah turned on him, though, brought the heat back into his body. Her pale green eyes shimmered and a soft smile played on her lips.

"Thank you, Gideon, for rescuing me again."

He knew he needed to say something, but with her looking at him that way, his mind just wouldn't work. He finally forced out, "You're welcome," before turning away. He had to get out of here and regain control.

"Need to get my gun," he mumbled as he escaped out the door. It wasn't until he was walking toward the garden that he realized Leah had used his Christian name. Did she know she'd done it?