Chapter 30

30

L eah folded the bread dough in half as she worked it, kneading and squeezing to mix the ingredients. Her mind wandered back to Gideon, as it usually did these days. Was he still thinking about their kiss last week, too? The pure anguish that had been in his eyes, in the slump of his shoulders, made her chest ache with a physical pain. Lord, please. Help him. Show him Your perfect love casts out all fear.

"So when are you going to tell me what happened?" Miriam's voice pulled Leah from her prayer as the younger woman sliced meat beside her.

"What happened when?"

Miri rolled her eyes. "When you and Gideon went out to take care of the herd last week. You've both been acting strange ever since."

Leah's brows pinched. "I haven't been." At least she hoped she hadn't. She couldn't stop worrying about Gideon—or praying for him.

A "humph" from Miriam brought Leah's attention back. "I may be younger than you, Leah Townsend, but don't think I was born yesterday. You look at him like you've lost your best friend, and he won't look you in the eye. On top of that, you've let him go out by himself every day since that first one. And you knew good as I did he wasn't strong enough. You're worryin' yourself sick." Miriam sliced through the meat with an extra strong force as if to illustrate her disgust.

She chose to ignore most of what Miriam said and focus on the last. She gave her best look of offended innocence. "I'm not worrying."

A snort broke forth from Miriam. "You mean that wasn't worry that made you put the biscuits in the pie safe instead of the oven yesterday, so they were mounds of goo when we found them at dinner time? Or how about when you were doing washing on Monday and you scrubbed Gideon's shirt so hard three buttons popped off and you pulled a hole in the arm seam?"

The heat coming off Leah's cheeks could have baked the bread dough she had now smashed to a thin layer.

"So are you gonna tell me what happened?" Miriam stopped cutting meat and turned to face Leah, her right hip cocked against the work counter and her left fist propped on the other one.

Leah desperately wanted to tell her. There wasn't much she hadn't told Miriam over the last few months. But Gideon was her brother. Her older brother whom she respected and adored. It wouldn't be right to talk about the deep roots of his fears to his baby sister.

Miriam threw her hands off her hips in frustration and turned back to the meat. "I know you love the man, although why, I'm not always sure."

The embarrassment radiated from Leah's ears now. "Why in the world do you say that?"

Miriam gave her a long-suffering look. "You look at him the same way Mama used to look at Pa. And they were more in love than anyone I've ever seen."

Leah fought the burn of tears, and turned to the dough in her hands. "It doesn't really matter anyway."

A hand touched her back and rubbed gently. It was almost Leah's undoing, but she bit her lip and blinked back the moisture.

"Don't worry, honey. He'll wake up and see things straight one of these days. He just needs to find a way to get through the past."

Leah nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The warm sun rays were heavenly on Leah's back as she scrubbed Miriam's brown wool skirt in the wash water. The frigid pattern of snow and cold gray skies had finally ceased, and the sun had forced its way through the clouds for three days now. The sound of cracking ice had changed into dripping water through the trees, and bare patches were even beginning to show on the ground in the sunny spots.

It was time to leave the ranch.

She knew it in her head, but her heart fought violently against the notion. She'd finally admitted to herself she loved Gideon Bryant, but it was obvious he wasn't going to let himself love her back. And being so close to him, knowing he wouldn't love her, was driving her mad. Even if the snow hadn't begun melting, it was still time to leave. Staying would only be painful for them both.

Lord, please show me where You would have me go. Butte City? Helena? The Washington Territory? With each name, she waited for a feeling of peace or that gentle prodding she used to be able to recognize so well. Nothing.

She wrung out the skirt and laid it with the other damp clothes in the basket. Then she lifted the hamper, squaring her shoulders with the determination that comes from desperation.

At the dinner table that night, the bile in Leah's stomach kept her from forcing down much of her shepherd's pie. Halfway through the meal, she finally set her fork on the plate and stiffened her spine. It was now or never. She had to do this.

"Gideon, do you think the pass has melted enough to get through to Helena or Butte?"

His head jerked up and his hand froze, suspended midway to his mouth with gravy dripping from the chunk of bread in his grasp. For a split second, the emotion in his eyes looked almost like hurt, then it was gone. Covered by that awful impassive expression he used to wear so well.

For a long moment, he didn't move, didn't chew, didn't say a word. Just studied her, his emerald eyes turning too cloudy to read.

And then he spoke. "Prob'ly so."

Two words. Just two words that had the ability to blow up her hopes like a bullet exploding a glass bottle. But what had she expected? That he would drop to one knee and beg her not to leave?

She expelled her hurt slowly, forcing her mind to move on. "I guess I'll be leaving then. I think I'll start in Butte City, since it's closest. Surely one of the stores or restaurants is hiring." She was rambling, although she couldn't have repeated anything she'd said if her life depended on it. She had to get control of herself.

"Would you mind if I borrow one of the horses to ride to town? I'm sure I can send her back with Ol' Mose next time he comes through, or else I can have a messenger bring her." Although where she'd get the money for that, she hadn't a clue.

"I'll take you." He said it with a snarl, as if she'd just called him a no-count, mule-brained, horse thief.

It was obvious he didn't want to. Probably because he had too much work to do on the ranch, and likely wasn't feeling up to a full-day's ride in the wagon. She opened her mouth to object.

A muscle flexed in his jaw, revealing how tightly it was clenched. She couldn't read a thing in his eyes, but the rest of his body language said it all. He was going to do this.

"Thank you." She dropped her gaze to her plate. The casserole there had been just short of mutilated. She had only one more question she desperately didn't want to ask. But she had to know.

She raised her eyes to Gideon's face again, then forced her dry mouth to swallow. "When do you think we can go?"

"I'm only taking this one trunk, Miri. I want you to keep the rest of my gowns." Leah forced an almost unnatural cheeriness into her voice, and looked up to see if her words brought a smile to her friend's face.

Miriam looked like she might burst into tears at any second. She was supposed to be transferring undergarments from the bureau to Leah's trunk, but her progress was slow.

The weight that had pressed on Leah's chest for two days now—since Gideon agreed to take her to Butte—was close to smothering. And Miriam's persistent melancholy had Leah's nerves on edge. She would not cry, though. God, please keep me strong through this.

"Leah, you just can't leave. It isn't right."

Leah turned at the outburst from her friend.

Miriam's pale green eyes were shrouded in red, her bottom lip quivering.

Leah dropped the brown traveling suit she'd been about to pack and strode across the room. She took Miriam's hands in her own and lowered her head to peer into the girl's face.

"Miriam, I wish I didn't have to leave you. I really do. But I need to move on with my life and find what God would have me do. You and your brother have been so kind to take me in these last months, but I can't depend on your hospitality forever. I need to make my own way." Leah's voice cracked at the end, and her eyes burned with tears that would fall any minute. She turned away so Miriam wouldn't see her heart breaking.

Miriam tugged Leah's hands. "But you belong here , Leah. Don't you see? You belong with us. Gideon will marry you, I know he will." Miriam's voice rose to a high pitch, laced with desperation.

Leah's heart clenched. She searched Miriam's face to see if there was any foreshadowing of truth in her words. But no, she spoke only the desperate longings of a lonely young woman.

Leah released one of her hands and reached to cup her cheek, wiping a tear with her thumb. "I don't think Gideon will ever marry again. And my presence here is just making things harder for him. It's better if I go."

"But, Leah." Miriam's voice was an avalanche of pleading. Then it fell to almost a whisper. "Don't you know I need you?"

Leah couldn't stand it any longer. She pulled the girl into a fierce embrace and let the tears stream down her face. Oh, God, why does this have to be so hard?

After a few minutes, she worked to control her weeping, but Miriam's shuddering sobs continued. Leah kept the girl in the hug, gently stroking her back while she searched for the words in her heart.

"God has wonderful things planned for your life, Miriam Bryant. I don't want you to forget that, do you hear me?" She sniffed back the burn of fresh tears. "You just have to make sure you lean on Him no matter what. And always be seeking His will."

She leaned back enough to see Miriam's face, but kept one arm wrapped around the girl. "God will take you to better places than you could ever imagine. But wherever you go, make sure you stay in touch with me, do you hear? And if you're ever nearby, I expect a visit. Understood?"

Leah paused as Miriam sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes with a sleeve, then nodded.

"All right, then. I think this trunk is ready to go. Would you mind helping me carry it to the wagon?"

She received another nod, then released Miriam and the women each took an end of the crate.

The wagon and horses were waiting by the front porch, and they were able to load the trunk with no problems.

"I suppose Gideon must be in the barn. I'll go let him know I'm ready." The last thing Leah wanted to do was find Gideon. But the morning was passing quickly and they needed to get on the trail. Besides, he'd been avoiding her for days now, so it wasn't likely he'd want to talk.

As she entered the dim light of the barn, Gideon came out of Bethany's stall. A few pieces of hay still clung to his navy wool shirt. When he approached, she couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm ready when you are."

She expected a gruff response, or maybe just a growl of acknowledgment. Those were about the only words he spoke these days. But he didn't make any sound.

After a few moments of silence, she finally forced her gaze up to him. He had his hands behind his back, his attention focused on the ground where he was kicking at a dirt clod.

"You know." His voice was deep, almost raspy, as if he hadn't used it in a while. "You don't have to go. You can stay on here as long as you want."

Leah's chest burned all the way down, and her heart convulsed at the vise that was squeezing the life out of her. Lord, You're giving me more than I can bear. If You want me to leave, You have to help me.

She swallowed hard and turned her gaze to look at the stall door, anything so she didn't have to see the man in front of her. "I…I don't think…" Lord, please! "I think I need to go." The words came out in a tumble, as if they knew she would never let them out if they didn't speak now.

Her disobedient eyes trailed up to Gideon's face in time to see his expression change to the impassive look she knew so well. His eyes shuttered, sending painful memories of the way he'd looked when she first arrived at the cabin.

"Let's go then." It was an order, like what he'd say to Drifter. And he marched past her out of the barn.