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Brand was everything she didn’t need or want.
What she needed and wanted was safety, security.... She pressed her lips tight and squeezed her eyes to stop the threatening tears. And the freedom to write and publish her stories under her own name.
At least she’d been able to publish as Ellis West. That was enough, she told herself.
She pulled out her notes and glanced over them. But she had very little to add.
Because, she realized with a start, in her visits to the barn she’d revealed more about herself than she’d discovered about Brand.
Tomorrow she would remedy the situation.
Questions she wanted to ask flitted through her brain, chased by the fact that she needed to be honest with him about her intention of writing his story.
Why bother telling him?
Because it feels underhanded to pretend I’m interested for any other reason.
Cough. Cough. Wouldn’t that be a lie?
She closed her mind to the inner voice. Truth or lie, she wouldn’t admit there was any other reason.
Not unless she sought for a way to have her heart fractured into a million pieces. She didn’t.
Why not convince him to stay?
Huh. I never thought of that.
Well, think about it. Maybe it’s time for him to put his past behind him and face the future.
The next day her plan seemed even more reasonable, and she grinned at the basin of potatoes she was scrubbing for the meal. The grin clung to the lining of her heart and tickled the corners of her mouth later as she took a plate to Brand, leaving Sam Stone from the nearby OK Ranch visiting with Eddie and the others.
Sybil handed Brand the plate of food, then sat with her back against the wall of the pen. Would he guess she meant to have a serious, and perhaps long, talk with him?
He settled down beside her and began to eat.
She shifted to study him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Don’t see how I can stop you. But I don’t have to answer.”
She’d thought carefully about how to approach the subject. If she came at it indirectly, perhaps he wouldn’t resist her questions.
“Don’t you get lonely?”
* * *
His fist curled against his leg. His heart tightened so each beat hurt as if it squeezed out shards of blood. “I got Dawg.”
The twitch of her eyebrows informed him she thought the answer less than adequate.
Brand looked at his plate of food. He looked at Dawg, who rested at his feet. Lonely? The word didn’t half describe the empty hours, the silent days, the cold nights. Any more than it described the constant pressure at the back of his neck as he watched for the sudden appearance of the Duggan gang. Being alone hurt. But it sure beat having Pa and Cyrus for company.
Brand couldn’t continue to ignore Sybil. Her gaze bored into him.
“Something really dreadful must have happened in your life to make you constantly run.” She waited, an expectant silence in which his heart strained at its seams.
He could deny it, but knew she wouldn’t believe him. “Guess you could say that.”
“I’m supposing it’s why you won’t reveal your surname.”
I’m a no-good Duggan. His nerves twitched. He’d been here longer than was wise. But he couldn’t leave. Not because of the horses. Not because of Dawg. Even though he knew he might have cause to wish he wasn’t so foolish, he couldn’t tear himself away from her company.
Nor could he tear himself away from the look in her eyes offering hope and so much more.
She smiled so gently it loosened the cruel fist around his heart.
“You could stop running. Confront your past.”
“If only I could.” He touched her cheek. Soft as a dewy rose petal. Pink as an autumn sunrise. The color no doubt heightened by his bold touch. “You almost persuade me.” If anything could change his circumstances he would stay. Forever. Content to be in the circle of her smile.
“I wish it could be more than almost. Think about it, won’t you?” And she placed her hand over his, pressing it firmly to her cheek.
“Would it matter to you?”
She lowered her lashes to hide her eyes, then met his gaze, her eyelashes fluttering. “It matters,” she whispered. “I pray you’ll find what you need.”
“For what?”
