Chapter 1

One

“ S top right there!” Carson’s voice rang out over the almost deserted campsite, jerking the two men to a halt and rocking them on their feet. “Toss your guns aside.” He moved closer to Angela who sat by the fire. He’d stop them from getting any nearer to her, although they were almost within touching distance and he was ten feet away. Not good odds but he wouldn’t let them harm her.

The smaller man’s eyes widened at the sight of the red serge Carson wore. He didn’t don it every day while traveling with his family. Some days it was too hot, and he preferred a blue cotton shirt. Good thing he’d decided to wear it today.

“We ain’t done nothin’.” The bigger of the pair grumbled. His gaze slid to Angela. The way he licked his lips sent a spasm clear through Carson, the feral gleam in his eyes causing him to clench his teeth.

“Now!” His pistol aimed at the closest man. He wouldn’t shoot. Unless he had to.

The second scoundrel shifted, putting the pair further apart and making it harder for Carson to cover them both .

“Angela, go to a wagon.”

She jerked from the log stool, leaned as far away as she could from the unwelcome visitors, and scurried away.

Carson squeezed the trigger, and the bigger man jumped as dirt blasted up an inch from the toe of his dirty boot.

“Awright. Awright.”

Both guns hit the dirt.

“Face down on the ground.”

“Aww, that ain’t fair.” The smaller man whined like a baby.

Carson spared a glance over his shoulder to check on Angela. She peeked out from the back of the nearest wagon.

Why was she here? He thought everyone had gone into town. Another question followed on the heels of that one. Was this really the awkward, shy, backwoodsy girl who’d been brought into the family shortly before he left? No more pigtails. No more clumsiness around people. No more tongue-tied, wide-eyed gawking. Not that he meant she was talkative, nor could he say exactly what he meant. He directed his attention back to the men stretched out on the ground.

He tied both the hands and feet of the pair and dragged them to their feet. “Where are your horses?”

They glowered at him.

They had mounts. He’d spotted them late yesterday. Even from a distance, he could see the men weren’t floating near the top of society. But now he had a better look at them and decided they were dragging bottom. Weathered as old lumber. Dirty and smelly. At one time, they’d probably been buffalo hunters or even Indian hunters.

“Don’t matter to me if you have to walk to town.” He pointed them in that direction. Not that they could walk with their feet tied. But did he want to untie them?

A horse galloped over the hill, the rider wearing red serge .

“’Nother Mountie.” The bigger man growled. “They’s crawlin’ ’bout like fleas on a mangy dog.”

As the rider drew closer, Carson saluted Constable Patton by way of greeting. “Surprised to see you. What brings you out here?”

“These two.” Patton jerked his head toward the trussed-up pair. “They robbed a family toward the river.” Dismounting, he nodded toward the dipper in the water bucket, and Carson handed him a drink. He downed it greedily and wiped his mouth. “Robbing them wasn’t enough though. They did unspeakable things and left them for dead.”

The constable curled and uncurled his fists as he scowled at the pair. Carson didn’t need any more information than Patton’s reaction.

“I tended the young couple and took them to the nearest town to recover before I set off after these despicable scoundrels. I’ll take them off your hands.” He studied the surrounding area. “Where’s their horses?”

“Can I give you something to eat before you ride away?”

Patton looked from the prisoners to the pot simmering over the coals. His gaze rested on the big coffeepot.

Understanding how welcome the brew was after hours of hard riding, Carson added, “Coffee’s not fresh, but it’s hot.”

“You two might as well sit down,” Patton ordered. “I’m going to enjoy coffee and a bite to eat before we leave.”

“We’s hungry too.” The voice hovered between a whine and a growl as if the bigger man couldn’t decide to beg or threaten.

“Sit.” Patton shoved them so they landed half on their backs, half on their bottoms.

Cursing loudly, they righted themselves to a sitting position.

“Maybe they’ll be kind enough in town to feed you. After seeing what you did, I’m not so inclined.” He turned away from them. “I’ll accept that offer.”

Carson filled a cup and handed it to Patton, then found a plate, and dished up baked beans, adding two fluffy biscuits. They were still warm as if recently baked. Was that why Angela had stayed back? It hardly seemed to be an urgent matter. He poured coffee for himself, but before he sat on the nearest log stool, he looked to the wagon.

She was out of sight, but a movement of the canvas suggested she watched the proceedings.

Patton ate and took his time downing the coffee, then held out his cup for a refill. In slow, methodical movements, he pulled a pipe from his pocket and tamped it against a piece of wood before loading it with tobacco and lighting a sliver of wood in the red coals to get the tobacco burning.

“I’m not in any rush,” he murmured. “Might as well enjoy some good company.”

Carson grinned at the emphasis on “good.”

The two tied-up men looked fit to explode.

Nursing a second cup of coffee that contained a lot of grounds, Carson sat back. No reason not to enjoy the situation.

With his cup, Patton pointed toward the livestock grazing nearby. “Didn’t I hear something about a herd of horses?”

“’Spect you did. Constable Davis was in charge of them. When he was overdue, I came to find out if he had a problem. Turns out someone was trying to rustle the horses. Those men are now in custody.” The look Carson gave the restless pair was meant to inform them that the Mounties would see all evil men anywhere near the fort were taken care of in a like manner. “Davis and the men with him have taken the horses to Fort Taylor. I am escorting this wagon train there.”

Patton nodded, his expression curious and thoughtful.

Carson answered Patton’s question before he voiced it. “ Remember how I said my family was coming out West to join me? This is them. They’ve traveled by wagon train. Unfortunately, I can’t introduce them as they’ve gone into town. Except for one sister.” Technically, she wasn’t his sister. Wasn’t even related. But describing her in that way informed everyone that he would guard her every bit as much as any of his sisters. “Angela?” he called.

The wagon rocked. The canvas shushed. But she didn’t appear.

He shrugged. “I guess she’s shy.”

Patton sucked back a huge gulp of coffee, spat out some ground, and enjoyed his smoke like he had all the time in the world.

Finally, he knocked the ashes from his pipe and waved it around to cool it. He touched the bowl several times before deciding it was safe to put in his tobacco pouch. A deep sigh emptied his lungs. “Where did you say the horses are?”

“I didn’t. They haven’t given that information, but I’m sure they don’t mind walking.” They both eyed the pair.

“I ain’t walkin’,” the bigger one said.

“They’s down by the creek in some trees,” the other volunteered.

“I’ll get them.” Carson trotted away. His steps slowed. He’d left Angela with three men. But Patton would guard her. Besides, had he forgotten the culprits were securely tied by his own hands?

The horses were sorry-looking, their hair matted, their hides dirty. One rolled his lips back and threatened to bite. Carson sidestepped the teeth and kept his distance as he led the animals back to camp.

“Horses are as mean and dirty as their owners.” Patton needed to know what he was up against.

Carson untied the smaller man’s feet while Patton did the same for the bigger one. The other Mountie had made sure a hunk of wood was nearby, just the right size to use as a weapon should the scoundrel think of kicking him.

They heaved the men into their saddles and roped their feet together under their horses’ bellies. Threats poured from the men’s mouths, but neither constable paid them any mind. Words were nasty but powerless.

“Maybe I’ll see you back at the fort.” Patton departed, leading the pair after him.

Hooves thudded on the ground, fading as the trio rode away.

Once they disappeared behind a stand of trees, Carson turned to the wagon. He waited, expecting she would jump down and join him. When she didn’t, he headed in that direction and paused a few feet away.

“Angela, is there something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I thought everyone had gone to town.”

No response.

“Did those men do anything?” Had he arrived too late to prevent them from touching her?

“No.” Her answer was short, perhaps indicating she didn’t wish to discuss it.

“It’s kind of hard talking to a wagon. Can you come out?”

Nothing. Or was that an impatient sigh?

Angela sat back on the wooden floor. She didn’t want to face this man. Would he think she’d invited that horrible pair to visit? A shudder rattled her bones and shook the wagon. Of course, she’d known she’d see Carson again. She’d thought it would be when they reached the fort, and she could slip away when he was around. But no, he’d attached himself to the wagon train making it impossible to avoid him .

Every time she encountered him, she remembered his unkind—no, cruel—words about her.

“Angela, is there something wrong?”

Indeed, there was. He was far too handsome and sure of himself. Especially for a man with his opinion of her. Knowing his feelings regarding her reduced her to a quivering mass of anger…or was it denial? Yes, it was the latter. He was wrong about her. She sucked in canvas-flavored air and released it slowly. Not that she had to prove it. His opinion didn’t matter. Fortified with that assurance, she pushed to her feet.

“I’m coming.”

She slipped from the wagon. Her feet on the ground, she pressed to the wooden gate and avoided looking at him, instead focusing on the table holding the baking she’d done—biscuits and cookies. They never had too much of either, and she did her best to keep their supply stocked.

“Why didn’t you go with the others?” His sharp voice sent an answering jab through her insides.

“Bertie didn’t want to go, so I said I’d stay with him.”

“Bertie? Where is he? I haven’t seen him.” He ducked to look under the wagon.

“He’s gone into hiding.” As soon as he noticed the strangers riding toward the camp, he’d disappeared as he always did when things frightened him. She moved along to look under the other wagons, but he wasn’t under them.

Carson whistled. The silence echoed around him.

Limpy should have answered with a bark or Alice, the goat, should have come bouncing toward them.

But not a sound. Not a movement.

“Bertie!” Angela’s voice bounced off the canvas and rolled down the slope to the creek.

“Bertie!” Carson’s call lifted upward and carried for twenty feet before being absorbed in the sound of the water trickling by down the hill.

Nothing. Not so much as a rustle in the grass, a bending of branches, a whimper from Bertie, or a whine from Limpy. Even the rambunctious goat was silent.

“I’ll find him.” After all, she’d been left in charge of him. She trotted toward the nearest bushes. “Bertie? Alice! Limpy!”

Carson followed. “It’s not normal for none of them to answer.”

Angela might have pointed out that Bertie could be holding the animals in a tight hug that didn’t allow them to utter a sound. Or that the animals, sensing his fears, huddled silently with him. But he’d know that. He’d been dealing with Bertie much longer than she had. All his life in fact. Bertie had never recovered from a fever that hit him when he was four. He’d forever be a child in his mind, even though he was a large man in body. A sweet man-child.

They looked through the bushes but found no sign of Bertie or his pets and moved down the grassy slope toward the creek, Carson walking at Angela’s side. They didn’t speak as they poked through the bushes and pushed aside branches or paused to call and listen.

“I see him.” She pointed to the big man huddled under the boughs of a tall tree, his arms firmly around Limpy and Alice.

Alice wriggled free and, bleating, trotted toward Carson and Angela. Limpy escaped and did his three-legged, lopsided run to them.

Bertie, his face tearstained, watched them approach. Slowly, he eased out from under the tree and pushed to his feet. “Angela, you not hurt?”

“I’m fine, Bertie.”

He rushed to her and enfolded her in such a tight hug that she struggled to breathe. “Those men not nice. I ’fraid, then sorry to leave you.” He released her .

She gasped in air. “Carson chased them off.”

“They’ve gone away with another Mountie,” Carson said.

“That good.” Bertie patted Carson’s back and then Angela’s. “You good too.”

“Yes, I am.” Carson and Angela answered in unison, and despite her deep-seated feelings toward the man, she laughed a little.

“Alice want to play.” Bertie jogged after the goat who skipped from rock to rock by the water and then climbed along the bank. Bertie followed with Carson and Angela behind him. Soon Bertie and his pets were chasing each other through the long dry grass that tugged at their feet. Bertie tumbled to the slope and laughed as Limpy licked his face.

Carson sat on the ground, lifting a dust cloud full of the spicy smell of grass and sending seeds into the air. “We might as well let him enjoy himself.”

“Of course.” When she remained standing, he patted a place beside him. “Join me.”

She didn’t want to sit with him. Could she offer some excuse to rush back to camp? But the warm sunshine tempted her to a few minutes of laziness. She lowered herself to the slope and arranged her skirt over her legs. A fly buzzed around her head, and she shooed it away, then tilted her head to listen to the trill of happy birds in the nearby trees. The air was soft and soothing, and she closed her eyes to enjoy it.

“You aren’t at all like I remember you.”

His words murmured through the warm air and jolted her from the moment of peace. “You mean I’m not a wayward child? Socially inept? A nuisance? A burden to your mother?” Why had she said that? Why did she even remember? It was four years ago. Things had changed. She had changed. Yet Carson’s words still stung like a fresh wound.

“What? Why would you say that?” Surprise and perhaps a touch of scolding filled his words.

She sat up straight, opened her eyes, and faced him, not quite meeting his look. “I didn’t say it. You did.”

“What? When?”

Her attention went to him. Was his surprise real? Had he forgotten? She held his gaze as she answered. “I overheard you say that to your father just days after I joined your family.” Did she succeed in keeping the bitterness from her words?

“I don’t recall saying that. But if I did, it was most unkind of me.”

“It certainly was.”

“You’ve harbored that these past four years?”

“I thought I’d dismissed it, but when I saw you again…” She shrugged. “It all came back.” Like a thunderclap. Like flooding waters covering her in their depths.

“I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Forgive? The concept was easy in theory. But his comment was another log on the wagonload of unkind words and unfair judgments she’d dealt with. “Your ma has taught me the importance of letting go of the past.” She clasped her hands together as if she could hold out against the rush of memories. “My own mother and father would say the same thing. They taught me that I am not what people say about me. Nor should unkind words be allowed to take root in my heart.” Her fingers tightened around each other. “I have found it easier to repeat those words than to feel them. But yes, I forgive you.” Theoretically. Surely the feeling would follow.

Carson rubbed his neck. “I’m truly sorry for hurting you.” He grinned crookedly. “If it’s any consolation, you’ve changed. Grown into a fine young woman.”

“Thank you and thank you for dealing with those unsavory visitors.”

“I’m glad I came when I did.”

He meant to the campsite where the men were threatening her, but did he also mean joining the wagon train and finding her so changed?

Too bad she couldn’t say she was glad he was accompanying them, but she couldn’t. Not when all her hurt feelings had returned. What would it take to make them vanish forever? And enable her to live a life free of shadows of her past?