AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He could never be anything more than Brand, the bronc buster.
Enough staring into nothing. Time to get something to eat. From his meager supplies he chose a can of beans and opened it. Opened a second can for Dawg.
He downed the beans cold, chasing them with hot coffee.
His thoughts wandered again to a golden gal whose blue eyes smiled so gently at him he could almost believe she cared. But how could she? She knew nothing of him. Certainly not who he really was. A Duggan. Part of an outlaw family. Even if for some reason he stayed, he could never tell her, and lose the memory of that smile.
What would it be like to return home every day to a smiling welcome like that?
Brand Duggan would never know.
His leg pained him. It wasn’t broken, but bruised enough to remind him with every move that a horse had almost got the better of him. But the pain paled in light of a deeper pain that never left. Oh, sure, he sometimes managed to ignore it, push it away, pretend it didn’t exist, but all his efforts were but a thin scab that could be easily dislodged.
Something about Sybil had done more than dislodge it. Her gentle manner had scrapped away the protective layer, exposing the rawness beneath.
So many things contributed to the wound. Too many to count. Besides, what was the point?
He missed Ma. He missed conversations. Heart-to-heart talks. Teasing and laughing. He missed a warm bed and a hot meal at the end of the day. He missed having a home.
Home. The word reverberated through his head, his heart and his soul. A trumpet sound of despair that he couldn’t deny.
Something Ma had often said to him sprang into his mind. God will always be with us. Always guide us to a safe place. Always. We have to trust Him.
He’d long ago dismissed the words. He didn’t see how God being with them had made any difference. Pa always ended up finding them. Yes, Ma and Brand had always slipped away, hoping to find a place where no one knew who they were. At first, Ma had urged Brand along, helping him hide, taking care of finding a place for them. Then Brand had needed no more urging. He’d helped Ma carry their meager possessions. Had sometimes been the one to find them a safe place. He’d often been the first one to hear rumors of robberies, and know Pa and Cyrus were close by and it was time to move on.
Just as he must leave here to stay ahead of the Duggan gang. But what would happen if he stayed a few more days? Not with any idea of putting down roots. No. He knew better than that. Sooner or later, Pa and Cyrus would show up.
But a few hours. A few days. What could it hurt? He wouldn’t do anything rash, like attempt to court Sybil, simply enjoy a moment of her company here and there. Shoot, he’d be content to watch her from a distance. Then he’d leave, with his heart full of memories to last him a lifetime.
Memories. Nothing but memories. The word screamed through his brain, tearing a wide, aching, oozing path.
“Isn’t like I have any reason to stay,” he muttered to Dawg, who replied with a yawn. “Don’t see anyone throwing out the welcome mat.”
Brand rubbed his aching leg. At least this pain would abate and he’d soon forget it. Unlike the emotional pain.
Dawg bolted to his feet, hackles up, growling.
“I hear it.” Hoofbeats thudded. Someone approaching the camp. Brand’s skin prickled as it always did when he knew someone watched him. His hand crept toward his gun belt and rested on the grip of his pistol. Had his identity been discovered? Did someone seek the five-hundred-dollar reward for the capture, dead or alive, of any of the Duggan gang?
Friend or foe. He’d give his last nickel to never again have to wonder which it was every time a stranger approached. At least he didn’t have to worry about whether or not he could trust a friend. He hadn’t allowed himself one in a very long time.
Eddie rode into sight and air eased from Brand’s lungs.
He pushed to his feet. His leg protested the change in position, but he straightened it and waited as the rancher swung from his horse.
He’d get his wages and be on his way. And if his insides twisted at the thought, he wouldn’t acknowledge it. Nope. He’d move on. Forget those he left.
This time would prove more challenging than simply waving goodbye to a bunch of cowboys who spoke no more words than necessary, and would forget him as quickly as he forgot them. This time he would turn his back on a pretty young lady who had momentarily—and not of her choosing—rested in his arms.
