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“All’s fair.” In love and war. He felt suspended between the two. The war of outrunning Pa and Cyrus was over. But he was not ready to believe he could love and be loved. He hadn’t felt that way since Ma died. Not that that was the sort of love he ached for. When had his thoughts gotten so muddled? He released her arm and called, “Sybil’s it.”
The children dashed by her, teasing and tempting her to chase them.
The game continued in the cool, moon-drenched evening until a rectangle of light shone from either end of the ranch and Linette and Cassie called out to their respective children. “Come in now. It’s bedtime.”
The little ones stopped their play and sighed. Then, calling good-night over their shoulders, they trotted home.
Sybil chuckled. “That was fun. It’s the first time I played tag.”
He stared at her. “You’re joshing.”
“No, really.”
“That’s positively unnatural. Tag is a favorite children’s game.” They fell in step, side by side, and walked to the bridge.
She shrugged one shoulder. “I had other amusements.”
“Like what?”
“My books and papers. I loved making my own paper dolls.”
He thought it best not to say that a normal childhood had its share of rowdy play.
“These children are very fortunate.” Her voice carried a note of wistfulness.
He could name a number of ways that was true, but wanted to know what she meant, and asked her.
“They are loved by people who haven’t any obligation to love them.”
“That’s a fact. Linette is to have a baby soon. Won’t Grady feel misplaced?”
Sybil laughed gently. “Linette and Eddie aren’t like that. Nor are Roper and Cassie. A child of their union won’t cause them to love the other children any less.”
“How can you be so certain?”
She looked into his face, studying him, perhaps wondering if there was a reason behind his question. Maybe there was. Pa had loved him, of that he was certain. But his love was on again, off again, depending on whether or not Pa felt Brand did what he wanted. And because Brand mostly hadn’t, he’d often felt his father didn’t really love him. Not like he did Cyrus.
Sybil rubbed her warm palm along Brand’s arm. “My father taught me love is both a feeling and a choice. Even when you don’t feel the emotion, you choose to love.”
“That sounds pretend.”
“No. It sounds real.”
He decided to change the subject. “I expect there is someone back in England hoping to marry you.” She’d never mentioned it, but he could imagine many suitors beat a pathway to her door.
She gave his arm a harmless tap, then withdrew her hand.
Funny how he suddenly felt cold. And alone.
“Do you really think I’d go out walking with you if someone back home had asked for my hand?”
“No. Why are you walking with me?” He wanted to slam his head against the nearest post. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut around her?
“Why do you think?”
He turned her so the moonlight fell directly on her face. He saw uncertainty in her eyes and something more. Was it...? No. It couldn’t be.
But before he could marshal a response, she tucked her arm around his elbow and drew him along the path.
“I enjoy the children here. I’ve never been around many before. I hope to marry someday, and have more than one child, so they wouldn’t be lonely. But that’s in God’s hands, isn’t it?”
Brand’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. What was in God’s hands? Marriage or children?
They reached the top of the hill and stopped. She turned her face up to him with an expectant look. Did she want to be kissed? He couldn’t believe that’s what her glance meant. But had all this talk of children and new beginnings made her forget that Brand was a Duggan? A homeless, penniless cowboy? He’d kissed her once. Out of gratitude. If he kissed her now it would be for an entirely different reason. Would she welcome his interest? Or find him presumptuous and far too bold? He weighed his options.
She sighed and turned away. “We should be getting back.”
He’d waited too long. The opportunity had passed. Probably a good thing, but he found no comfort in the thought.
