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You’ve been drawn to her since that day, and you never even realized it.
Quickly, he finished shaving the beard from his face that he’d let grow over the months, and slipped into his clean shirt. Impatient to find Evelyn, he strode to his horse, which was eagerly grazing the green grass along the creek bank.
“I will catch up with you, mon amie,” Laurent said. He leaned up against a wide sycamore tree. “I will give my horse a little more time to rest. You go and be reunited with your wife.”
Alex nodded, and climbed into the saddle. He patted his horse’s neck. “A little further, and then you’ll get some much deserved rest.”
Guiding his horse along the road, his gaze scanned into the distance. If he took the cutoff to the left, he’d reach the farm where he’d grown up. Alex had no desire to see the place. He didn’t care what became of it. He nudged his mount with his heels, and continued on his way to the Lewis farm.
Only a few more miles. His heart pounded with apprehension and eagerness in his chest. That he’d have to confront Charlie went without question. What he didn’t know was the reception he’d receive from Evie. Did she think he’d forgotten about her when he didn’t come looking for her? Perhaps she had thought that he was dead, just as he had presumed about her.
A man walking behind a team of oxen in a field stopped to watch him ride by. The smell of freshly tilled soil mingled with the pungent scent of cows; scents he’d grown up with but long ago forgotten. He’d traded those smells for the musky scent of beaver. Soon, the familiar house and outbuildings of the Lewis farm came into view. A dirt yard separated the simple farmhouse from the much larger barn. Chickens cackled and scratched at the ground in the yard. He pulled his horse to a stop in front of a small corral. A shaggy brown dog came running from around the other side of the barn, barking loudly and scattering the chickens.
Alex turned his head slowly, taking in the well-kept house and barn. This property was vastly different from his cabin in the remote Teton Mountains. He suddenly felt strange and out of place here. His mountains called to him. What if Evie didn’t want to go back with him? He couldn’t offer her what she had here. There was no constant threat of hostile Indians or wild animals to endanger her life. Slowly, he brought his leg over his horse’s neck and hopped to the ground. The dog continued to bark at him, but kept a safe distance away.
The front door of the farmhouse opened, and a man stepped outside. Alex dropped his horse’s reins. His jaw clenched, and anger rushed through him. Charlie Richardson, the man who had put a bullet in his chest a year ago. The man who had killed Evie’s parents.
Holding a rifle in his hand, Charlie pointed it at Alex.
“I see you haven’t changed, Charlie. Gonna try and finish what you couldn’t do last spring?” Alex glared at him, his eyes unwavering.
“Henry Lewis warned me you might show up here one day,” Charlie said, and stepped further into the yard. Alex noted the slight hesitation in his step, and the unsteadiness in Charlie’s hold on his weapon.
“Is that right,” Alex said casually, his hand slowly inching toward the tomahawk hanging from his belt. He stepped away from his horse, a few paces toward the farmer. “Then I suppose you must know why I’m here.”
“Leave, Walker. You have no business here,” Charlie called across the space that separated them. He continued to step away from the house, pointing his rifle at Alex’s chest. “Go back to where you came from.”
Alex’s lips parted in a sneer. “ I’ll leave, as soon as I get what I came here for.”
“There’s nothing here that concerns you,” Charlie said hastily.
Alex inhaled deeply. “Where is Evelyn,” he demanded, tired of beating around the bush.
“She doesn’t concern you. You need to leave.”
“Like hell she doesn’t—”
A muffled cry came from inside the house, and Charlie’s head whipped around toward the sound. A woman’s cry of pain jolted Alex to the chore. Evie! What was happening to her inside that house? Cold sweat and fear raced down Alex’s back. It sounded as if someone was torturing Evie inside. His first thought was of Henry. He seized on the diversion, ignoring the rush of panic to his own heart, and charged at Charlie. Grabbing the rifle from the distracted man’s hands, disarming him proved rather easy. Charlie was a farmer, not some Crow or Blackfoot warrior out to kill him. Alex tossed the weapon to the ground, and pulled his knife from his belt, holding it to Charlie’s throat.
“Where’s my wife?” he snarled.
