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“I, too, had a believing ma and I wandered far from God for a time. My mother’s prayers brought me back. Seems your ma’s prayers have done the same. Do you care to send her a letter informing her of your pa’s death?”
“My ma’s dead, though she would have been pleased to hear of his change of heart.”
“Son, I have to ask you, what led you into a path of crime?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Care to tell me?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to believe me.”
“I’d believe you if it was true.” Bertie held his gaze, demanding truth and confession.
Brand swallowed hard. If only he’d had a man like this for a father. The thought unleashed his usual reserve and loosened his tongue. “It was my brother who kidnapped Miss Sybil. He threatened...” Brand shuddered as he recalled Cyrus’s ugly talk. “He said he’d do awful things unless I helped him. I figured if I went along she might be rescued.” No point in mentioning Pa’s promise. No one would believe Brand had trusted the word of an outlaw.
Bertie didn’t even blink. “I see. Have you told Eddie this? Or the Mountie?”
“What difference would it make? I was involved in the robbery of the store. I’m a Duggan.” And that said it all as far as people were concerned. It always had.
“Seems to me you’re more than a Duggan. You’re a good man.” Bertie rose.
“I’ll thank you not to repeat what I just said.” Brand didn’t want to be mocked for making up stories so people would think him innocent.
The other man rocked back and forth on his feet. “Are you saying you’d refuse my help?”
“I’m saying I doubt you could help, and I don’t care to be considered a whiner.”
Bertie patted his shoulder. “You’re no whiner. Now try and be comfortable. I’ll bring your supper when it’s ready. You’re in for a treat. My Cookie makes the best meals in the whole territory.”
Brand chuckled at the man’s pride. Not until Bertie left did he realize he’d not given the promise Brand had asked for. Not that it really mattered. Nothing Bertie said would convince anyone.
Brand hadn’t slept at all the night before. He settled back in the straw now, Dawg at his side, and let sleep numb his thoughts. He jerked awake as Bertie entered and bent to loosen the ropes on his wrists.
“I ain’t into feeding an able-bodied man.”
Brand rubbed his bruised and raw skin, then turned to the food. “You didn’t exaggerate,” he said after his first mouthful. “I realized that when she sent a plate out to me before.” He took another bite of the tender roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy.
Bertie grinned. Then as Brand ate, he sat and told stories of people he’d met and places he’d been. He even managed to make Brand laugh a time or two.
“Son, I’d like to read from the Bible before I go.”
The idea sat well with Brand and he agreed.
Bertie read for a few minutes—stories of the Israelites as they wandered the desert.
The words gave Brand comfort, but his wanderings were soon to end and he would join his ma and pa in heaven. The comfort fled as he choked back the tightness in his throat. Tightness from an imaginary rope about his neck.
Chapter Thirteen
Sybil tossed and turned all night. She could not shake the uncertainty she felt about Brand. She rose tired and angry at herself. She did not want to think of him. He was an outlaw and would soon face justice. But he’d revealed nothing of that sort of nature while she’d kept him company, helped him sew up Dawg, nor when they’d walked to the river. Her cheeks burned with shame to think she had hoped he’d kiss her again. What was wrong with her? Never before in her life had she struggled to keep her thoughts on what was right and wise.
Realizing she was staring out the window in the direction of the barn, she jerked away and went to the library. She would take each book off the shelves and dust the place thoroughly. She sneezed as she tackled the job.
Two hours later she stood back, satisfied. Then her shoulders sagged. Now what? The job had not kept her from thinking of Brand and reliving every moment they had spent together. As it turned out, for her it was in blissful ignorance. Yet even knowing that couldn’t erase those memories.
