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Sybil took the buns and headed up the hill to the big house to ask Linette to let Grady accompany her.
Linette readily agreed and a few minutes later Sybil and the boy made their way toward the clearing.
Dawg’s growl greeted them before they stepped from the trees.
Grady clutched Sybil’s hand. “Mercy says he’s got a mean dog.”
“He won’t hurt you.” Though he certainly managed to keep most people at bay, she felt no threat from the dog.
Grady refused to take another step even when Dawg’s growl became a whine of greeting.
“Come on in,” Brand called.
Sybil struggled forward, her progress impeded by having to practically drag a reluctant Grady. Perhaps that was a sign she should stay away from Brand and his campsite. But now that she was here she couldn’t retreat, even if she wanted to. Of course she didn’t; she wanted to make sure he wasn’t injured. She could do that without stepping across any invisible lines she’d drawn for herself.
She entered the clearing.
Brand lounged back on his saddlebags. He made no attempt to rise at her presence.
That alone caused concern. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just resting.” He tried to hide it, but she heard the strain in his voice.
“Your leg must be injured.”
“It’s fine.”
She studied him a moment, noting how the lines in his face had deepened. Why couldn’t he admit he had pain? “I know you’re not.”
He shrugged. “It’s not as if I jumped out of the loft door.”
“I saw how the horse rammed you into the fence. I’m certain your leg has been bruised or worse.”
“Only a bump. Nothing to be concerned about.”
There seemed no point in arguing. “Grady came to say hi.” She turned to the boy, who darted a look from Brand to Dawg and back again.
Sybil nudged him.
“Will your dog bite me?”
“I don’t know. Let’s ask him. Dawg, you gonna bite this boy?”
Dawg gave a wag of his crooked tail.
“Nope. But he’s not exactly the friendly sort.”
Grady carefully kept Sybil between them as Dawg wriggled closer. The nearer he got, the tighter Grady tucked himself into her other side, as if he hoped to disappear into the fabric of her skirts. She bent to pet the dog, but couldn’t with her hands full, so held the brown-paper-wrapped gift out to Brand. “Cookie sent some cinnamon rolls. The best in the country. She says she regrets you never stopped in to see her.”
Brand took the package. His long fingers grazed Sybil’s knuckles, making her heart buck three times in quick succession.
He sniffed deeply of the aroma. “If they taste half as good as they smell...” He waved for his visitors to sit down.
Grady kept close to Sybil as they settled on a log.
The dog slunk closer to Sybil. She hesitated a second. Was Dawg as cross as Brand led everyone to believe? She had no wish to have her hand torn off. Then she saw the welcome in the animal’s eyes and knew she was safe. She stroked the brown head, finding his fur surprisingly silky.
She felt Brand’s gaze on her and met it. “He’s a nice dog.”
Brand’s eyes filled with something she could only take as regret.
Did he mind that Dawg accepted her attention? She almost withdrew her hand, but couldn’t deny either herself or the dog this comfort. “Eddie wasn’t happy about the cowboys bringing in that wild horse.”
Brand shrugged. “It happens a lot.”
His words burned through her. Did he face this kind of challenge wherever he went? “Young Cal got put on manure shoveling for a month.” She laughed softly. “He didn’t look too happy about it.”
“It’s a smelly job.”
“You ever had to do it?”
“Shoveled my share of the stuff.”
“When? Where?”
“Here and there. Every cowboy has to do it.”
She’d hoped for more explanation but he didn’t offer any.
“What’s the hardest job you’ve ever had?”
He stared into the distance. “Burying my ma.”
Sybil’s thoughts stalled as pain and regret clawed up her limbs. She’d expected him to talk about horses. Instead, he reminded her of her own loss and loneliness, and her chin sank forward. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to be without parents.”
