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Before Gerda could reply, a rap on the front door signaled the arrival of the next patient—young Lester, who was here to have the stitches in his scalp taken out.
“Think about what could happen—think hard.” Kristin’s words followed Gerda as she hurried to the front door.
* * *
At the end of a busy afternoon, Kristin sank onto the front room sofa. She’d been too busy for more talk with Gerda. But the girl had left promising to weigh the consequences of her involvement with Mason. Kristin, in turn, had agreed not to tell her family for now—but only if Gerda ended the relationship. Had she made the best decision? Right now, she was too tired to think about it. Blast Mason. He deserved to be horsewhipped for taking advantage of yet another vulnerable young girl.
A fresh bouquet of Lorna Calder’s pink roses sat on the coffee table in their glass vase. A peace offering from Webb, delivered this morning by a rider from the ranch. She hadn’t seen him since their tense parting on the front porch. But the flowers were a clear message that she could expect him soon. For now, she would let matters run their course. Soon the season for roses would be over. What would happen then?
She had promised to join Blake’s family for dinner tonight at the big log house on the bluff. They’d be celebrating little Elsa’s sixth birthday. The occasion was a happy one, but Kristin had mixed feelings about what might be said—or not said—at the table. As the promised keeper of secrets, first Joseph’s and now Gerda’s, she would need to watch her words. And how would she respond if Blake, ever the dutiful big brother, were to lecture her about seeing Webb?
Never mind—a glance at the clock told her that she barely had time to clean up and change before making the journey through town, down the south road, across the pastures, and up the hill to the house. She would leave the noisy, unreliable Model T in the shed and take the neighbors’ horse and chaise. At least the ride, with the sun fading in the west, might calm her nerves and settle her mind.
Blake’s family welcomed her as warmly as ever—although Blake’s narrow-eyed glance told her he’d heard the rumors about her keeping company with Webb Calder. And Joseph seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her. Was there more going on than he’d told her when they’d last talked in private? And did it have anything to do with Mason?
Hanna had set the table with a linen cloth and Sarah’s good china, crystal, and silver. She’d even picked a bouquet of wildflowers for a centerpiece. Clearly, she’d wanted to make tonight a happy occasion for her family, and especially for little Elsa.
Kristin would not have spoiled the celebration for the world. She kept silent about the things she knew. Still, she could sense the specter of Mason’s return hanging over them all. Her half-brother had the power to destroy two families. And he was capable of doing it without a thought for anyone but himself.
After dinner, birthday cake, and the opening of a few gifts, including the little sailor dress Kristin had ordered from Sears Roebuck, the children went to their rooms to get ready for bed. Hanna followed Elsa to help her get undressed and tuck her in.
When Blake beckoned her out onto the porch and closed the door behind them, Kristin felt like a naughty child being taken to the woodshed. She was a grown woman and not answerable to her brother, even as head of the family. Still, she wasn’t looking forward to facing him.
“I suppose you’ve heard the reports,” she said, breaking the silence first.
“The whole town is talking,” he said. “You and Webb Calder. What are you thinking?”
“Maybe that this is my life, and I’ll live it as I choose.”
“But it isn’t just your life. Everything you do reflects on our family.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Are the two of you lovers?”
“No. Not yet. If it happens, I’d say that’s my business.”
“He won’t marry you, you know. He’ll string you along and parade you in public just to embarrass me.”
“Only if you choose to be embarrassed—and only if I choose to be strung. I’m not a fool, Blake. And I’m not a child. Damn it, I’m not even a virgin. When you’re in a war, with people dying all around you, and you know you could be next, you take comfort any way you can find it.”
He turned away from her, shaking his head. “This isn’t the Western Front. This is Blue Moon, Montana. And so help me, I’m not sure I even know you anymore.”
The words stung. Kristin forced herself to accept the pain. “War changes people,” she said. “Time changes people. You’ve changed, too. But I’m still your sister, and I still love your family.”
He didn’t turn around. “You’ve thrown in your lot with my sworn enemy. And nothing you’ve said gives me any hope that you’ll change your mind. I think you’d better leave.”
Shocked, she froze where she stood. She’d never meant to push Blake this far. She’d only meant to make it clear that he couldn’t tell her how to live her life. Now she’d opened a rift between them—one that might never heal.
When he didn’t speak or turn around, she took a ragged breath, walked down the porch steps, and followed the path around the side of the house to the stable yard, where she’d left the horse and chaise. Climbing onto the seat, she picked up the reins and headed the horse down the hill. The risen moon was bright. There was no need to light the lantern that she’d put under the seat.
Rounding the first bend in the road, she looked back toward the house. Blake was standing on the porch where she’d left him, gazing out at the night, his arms folded across his chest in a pose that was the very essence of stubbornness.
By the time she reached the bottom of the hill, where a side road cut off to the sawmill, the tears had begun to well in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. If only she could take back the defiant words she’d spoken. But it was too late for that. All she could do was move on and hope for some way to make peace with her brother.
Stopping the chaise where the two roads merged, she rested the horse for a moment, thinking. She could go home the way she’d come, back across the fields to the main road that led straight through town, or she could go around the sawmill and take the logging road that cut through Logan’s ranch, then swung toward town to emerge just north of her house.
The logging road was shorter but rougher and more isolated. But the moon was bright, and in case of any trouble, she had a loaded Winchester .73 behind the seat.
Recalling the tragic story of Blue Moon’s previous doctor, who’d been killed at night when a speeding truck hit the back of his buggy on the main road, she made her decision.
The sawmill had shut down for the night, the chain-link fence higher and stronger than she remembered. Electric lights mounted on poles provided extra security.
