Two
MEG HALTED HER MARE BENEATH THE SHADE OF A PECAN TREEthat bordered the Holland property.
His bare bronzed back glistening with the sweat of his labors, Lucian toiled in the field using a hoe to shift the soil over the seeds. Clay, with damp splotches circling the back and sleeves of his shirt, was guiding the plow through the field as the mule dragged it. Somehow she was not surprised that Clay wore a shirt while he worked. She’d not forgotten how quiet and soft-spoken he’d been in his youth.
As she prodded her horse through the furrowed field, Lucian spotted her. He straightened, propped his elbow on the hoe, and smiled. “Good day, Mrs. Warner!”
Irritated that Clay continued to plow the field as though company had not come to call, she drew her horse to a halt beside Lucian. “How are you, Mr. Holland?”
“Hot. And you?”
“A bit warm. I need to speak with your brother.” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “You’re here to see Clay?”
“I have some business to discuss with him.”
“Business?” He chuckled. “The last person to discuss business with Clay did it with his fist. Is that what you’re planning?”
“No, it is not.”
“Too bad.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Guess I’d best let him know you’re here. He dreams while he plows the field.” He turned on his heel. “Clay!” Lucian peered at her when his brother failed to respond. “See what I mean? I’ll get him for you.”
He ran across the field, caught up with Clay, and spoke words Meg couldn’t hear. Clay drew the mule to a halt and glanced over his shoulder. The brim of his hat shadowed his face so she had no idea what he was thinking. He ambled toward her while Lucian politely stayed with the mule.
As he neared, he removed his hat and squinted against the harshness of the sun. She hadn’t seen Clay up close since his return. The abundant streaks of white feathering through the brown hair at his temples astonished her. He and Kirk had been of the same age, and yet he looked considerably older than she imagined Kirk would have looked at twenty-five.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
His solemnly spoken words caused her to realize she’d been staring at him for some time. Thrusting up her chin, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you indeed?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. Your husband and brothers were fine men.”
“They died with courage and honor.”
“Yes, ma’am, they did. Kirk came—”
“How dare you!” she hissed, her fingers tightening on the reins. “How dare you speak his name!”
Despair flashed through his eyes. “I meant no disrespect.”
“No disrespect! Your very presence here is a disrespect.”
Slowly, he shook his head and slid his gaze past her. “Shall I gather up the stones?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just say what you came to say and be done with it.”
He met her gaze, and she wondered when his brown eyes had grown so aged.
“I didn’t come here to fight.” Preparing to dismount, she swung her leg over the saddle. He took a step forward to help her. She stopped his movements with a cold look of disdain. Sighing, he stepped back. She placed her feet on the ground, holding the reins loosely threaded through her fingers.
Yesterday morning during the church service while she watched Clay as he sat in the last pew, she’d planted the seeds for retribution in her mind. The idea had blossomed by the end of the day and kept her awake most of the night. When she had made the final decision in the hours before dawn to come here, she’d decided she would not address him. “Mr. Holland” showed a measure of respect for which she felt none, and “Clay” indicated an intimacy, a friendship that she would never share with this man.
Gently, she slapped the reins against her thigh. “Do you remember the small figurine you made for my husband?”
The memory of a happier time flitted across his face and lit his eyes. “The one with the deer?”
“Yes. There have been times when I’ve wanted to smash it against the wall and watch it crumble into a thousand pieces because your hands touched it. I haven’t because it was a gift from my husband. I tell you this because I don’t want you to have any doubts as to what my feelings for you are. Do you understand?”
