LITMIR.BIZ

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home to your sisters? Seems they should be more than willing to forgive it, if only so they could enjoy getting to know their little grandson.”

      She wrapped both arms about Adam, pulling him into a cocoon of safety. “That will never happen.”

      “Never? Surely they’ll change their mind when they get over their grief.”

      “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

      Johnny longed to understand this unusual situation, but he must respect her wish to end the conversation.

      In the ensuing silence, the little he knew about her went around and around in his head. Her parents had died two years ago. She hadn’t seen her sisters in almost two years. Were the facts connected? How long had she been married? From what she’d told him, he guessed her to be nineteen years of age. Wouldn’t that make her seventeen when her parents died? Was she married before then? She must have been.

      “I know how death changes a person’s plans.” He told her how Levi had been planning to marry Helen. “But she drowned. After that, her family packed up and left. Thad—he’s the man who is going to live in the cabin I’m repairing... Huh.”

      The truth suddenly hit Johnny. He didn’t care if he lived there or not. It was all for Thad’s sake.

      Willow gave him a questioning look. “Huh, what?”

      “It’s a long story.”

      “Might help ease my mind to think about something besides my missing sisters.”

      If Johnny could do that, he would tell her almost everything. “Okay, here goes. Helen had a brother, Thad. We’ve been best friends for years. He and I were raising horses together. We had plans to breed fine draft horses and break them. No one hereabouts raises the big animals. They are all brought in from east or south. We already had half a dozen broodmares and a fine stallion. But when his sister died, it seemed like Thad lost a goodly portion of himself. Then he discovered the girl he thought he loved had been secretly seeing another man. Between the two things, he almost lost his mind. He didn’t want anything more to do with the horses and insisted we sell them to a breeder over in Wyoming.

      “Nothing mattered to Thad anymore. It was like watching him die inside. He moved away with his parents and I didn’t hear from him all winter. But a few weeks ago I got a letter. He wants to buy back the horses and bring them here so we can continue with our plans. He’s going to live in the house where Thad’s family lived before Helen’s death.”

      Willow had shifted so she could watch Johnny as he related his story.

      “I told you it was a long one.”

      “So you need to fix the cabin before he returns.”

      “There’s been a little damage to it—you know, shingles missing, a window broken, the porch sagging.”

      She nodded. “Are you worried he won’t stay if it’s not in good repair? Like maybe he isn’t really committed to this partnership between you two?”

      Her question startled Johnny. Was that his reason for being so dedicated to this task? Except how dedicated could he be if he’d dropped everything to escort Willow and Adam around the country? Face-to-face with the thought, he had to admit it held some truth.

      “I suppose I am afraid he’ll change his mind again, maybe return to the black mood he was in when I last saw him, so I’m doing everything I can to see he doesn’t have any reason to do so.” Johnny met her eyes, saw understanding and compassion.

      “I know what it’s like to wonder if you can trust someone.”

      “I trust Thad.”

      “So long as nothing goes wrong. That’s not trust.”

      “Like I said, death changes things.” Johnny had to make her understand, if only to prove he trusted his friend. “I think by coming back, Thad is confronting his pain head-on. I want to help him heal. I believe if he sees the cabin damaged he will only see how things go bad. If I have it repaired, he’ll see that it’s okay to remember the good times.” Johnny shrugged, more than a little embarrassed by his philosophical take on the matter. “It’s like the Bible says, ‘Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted.’ I guess if he comes back I hope he can mourn his loss and move on.”

      Willow stared straight ahead, her shoulders drawn up and her back rigid.

      Johnny wanted to touch her, ease the strain he saw, but feared she would be offended. “What’s wrong?”

      She shook her head. “He’s fortunate to have a friend like you.” She eased back.

      Adam, who until now had been happily playing with his mother’s fingers, arched his spine and tried to escape her hold.

      “He’s not sick again, is he?” Johnny asked. It seemed foolish to drag the little guy all over the countryside when he’d been ill the day before.

      She lowered her cheek to his forehead. “No fever. He’s just getting restless.” She poured a little water into a cup and held it for Adam to drink, then turned and placed him in the area she’d prepared for him. There was room enough for him to stand or sit or move around a bit, yet he was safe from falling out. He stood and bounced up and down.

      “Man, man.” He grinned at Johnny.

      Johnny grinned back. “He’s a friendly little guy.” The words weren’t even out when he recalled what she’d said about Adam not going to others...especially his father. How odd. Johnny wanted to ask about that, but feared he’d be intruding on her grief. “We’ll stop soon and have dinner.” Normally, when he or his brothers were out doing something, they didn’t stop at noon, satisfied with grabbing jerky or biscuits from their saddlebags. But he guessed a woman and a child might need a little more care.

      Up ahead, some leafy cottonwoods beckoned and a stream flowed nearby. “There’s a good spot.” He turned the wagon aside and pulled into the shade. He helped Willow from the wagon, then lifted Adam to the ground, where the little guy toddled about.

      “He’s glad to be down where he can move around,” Willow said.

      Johnny would have enjoyed watching Adam explore, but he had to tend to the horses, and took them both to water, then left them to graze.

      By the time he returned, Willow had spread a quilt and brought out a loaf of bread and some cheese from the supplies he’d purchased.

      “I will pay for our share of the food,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. “You don’t need to be taking care of us.”

      “We’ll see.” He had no wish to argue over petty things.

      “You’re trying to avoid an argument.”

      He shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

      They studied each other. He couldn’t say what she saw, apart from a half-breed man with dark skin. Did she see the guardedness that he wore about him like armor? Did she see his determination to never again open his heart to any woman?

      On his part, he saw a woman with flyaway brown hair that had again escaped every hairpin and hung about her shoulders. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why she wasted time trying to control it, but then he thought better. Much too personal for two reluctant traveling companions. He saw—or did he sense?—a guardedness that matched his own. He wondered at the cause. Though perhaps he knew. She’d lost parents and a husband. That seemed enough to make a person build walls around her heart.

      A smile brightened her eyes even before it reached her lips. “Avoiding an argument seems a good thing to me.”

      He grinned. “Me, too. Do you want me to ask a blessing on the food?”

      She blinked.

      He guessed she hadn’t thought of grace.

      “That would be nice.” She held her son’s little hands as

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