Brides of Idaho (28 page)

“You know it’s wrong to keep her like this.” She tilted her head toward the camp.

He’d thought it himself a time or two. But… “You haven’t seen the way people react to her.”

She shrugged her shoulders, sending a thousand sparks into his palms.

He dropped his hands and spun away. What was he to do? Not that she was giving him any choice. She would follow him, dog him, harass him, spout forth insults until she got her way. Might as well get it over with.

Ignoring her, neither giving her permission to follow him or ordering her not to, he led the horse back to camp.

Of course, she followed as he knew she would.

They broke into the clearing. Cora glanced up. Her gaze went past Trace, and she bolted to her feet.

“I couldn’t get rid of her,” Trace said, regret and sadness making a twisted rope of his insides.

Cora clutched at her neck, looking for her bonnet, but it had fallen to the ground. Gasping, pressing her hand to her cheek, she started toward the tent and ground to a halt when she saw Mandy blocking her path.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mandy soothed.

Cora whimpered. “Go away.” She ducked, giving Mandy a view of the top of her head.

“I don’t aim to hurt you.”

Trace watched. Part of him wanted to bodily remove Mandy from the face of the earth—or at least return her to Bonners Ferry and nail her to the floor of the stopping house. Another part wanted to see how this played out. Could she persuade Cora not to hide?

Mandy caught Cora’s chin and tipped her face up. She stroked one cheek and then the other. “You are much too young and beautiful to hide.”

Cora’s blue eyes widened. She looked hopeful, as if she wanted to believe Mandy.

Trace could not get in a satisfying breath. His little sister had been born with a halo of golden-white hair. It had darkened slightly as she grew. In the fire she’d lost much of her hair on one side, but no one would know it to look at her now. It had grown back enough for Cora to braid it into tidy submission.

But despite her beautiful eyes and hair, Cora would never be the same. He recalled something Mandy had said. Cora was scarred both inside and out.

Trace admitted he was equally scarred inside. Nothing could change that.

With a muffled sound—half groan, half cry—Cora broke free of Mandy and scrambled to find her bonnet and tie it tight. She glanced at the tent, stole a fleeting look at Mandy, then turned her back to them and walked to the half-built log house. She slipped around the corner and sank to the ground, holding the edge of her bonnet to her cheek.

Mandy shifted her attention to Trace, her eyes brimming with sorrow and sympathy. She smiled. Did he detect a quiver in her lips?

“It’s a start,” she murmured.

Why did her words fill him with hope such as he’d forgotten existed? It pushed at the bottom of his heart, sought to escape into his thoughts, his feelings, his life. He tried to shake himself free of her gaze and failed.

He dare not allow himself such a measure of hope.

He could not, would not let himself trust her. “Time to get to work,” he muttered. He dragged the log to the house, unhitched the horse, and set it free to graze. All the while Mandy remained, watching. And no doubt scheming something.

He could hardly wait to see what it was. Mocking, silent laughter caught halfway up his throat. So far her schemes had brought him nothing but trouble.

So why then did he grin?

M
andy tried to make sense of what happened up the hill. Why had he touched her? Why had she grabbed his shoulders in a similar gesture? The way her insides bucked at his touch should have warned her. But did she listen to the signals? No. She was far too intent on convincing him it was wrong to let Cora hide. But when she’d felt his warm flesh under her palms, recognized the strength there, acknowledged the twitch of his muscles, and experienced a helpless tangle of thoughts and emotions, she realized she had stepped into something she was at a loss to control.

Even now, after focusing her attention on Cora, her insides contained a whirlwind of confusion. Cora. She pushed her thoughts, her attention back to the girl who again wore her bonnet like a helmet of steel. At least she hadn’t retreated to the heat of the tent.

Mandy nodded decisively. She knew what to do next. Hang about for a time to prove to Cora she posed no harm.

Trace sat astride the log, about two feet from where Cora hunkered against the wall. Neither spoke, though the air was heavy with silent words.

Mandy grabbed her ax and plunked down on the other end of the log, imitating Trace’s movements as he stripped bark from the tree.

He stopped work.

She felt his demanding look. “What? You’ve never seen a woman debark a tree?”

“I never thought to see Mandy Hamilton assisting Trace Owens.”

She shrugged and returned to her task. “Consider yourself fortunate indeed, because you won’t see it very long.”

“Why am I seeing it at all?”

“You looked like you needed help.” She slid him a teasing glance. “No need to let a little competition stop us from being neighborly.”

Trace choked like the idea strangled him.

She pretended great concern. “Do you need me to pat your back?”

He waved her away and shook his head, starting another bout of coughing.

“Aw. I just want to help.”

“I don’t think I need the kind of help you’re apt to dish out,” he managed to say.

She chuckled and was rewarded by an echoing giggle from Cora. Mandy turned her attention to the girl. “He sure gets all cautious at times. You think he’s afraid I might hurt him?”

Cora met Mandy’s eyes full-on for a moment, long enough for Mandy to see the brimming humor and take hope the girl still knew how to enjoy life. Then Cora ducked away, hiding behind the flaps of her bonnet.

“Not afraid,” Trace protested. “Only realistic. After all, you have an ax in your hand. My motto is ‘Never take chances with a woman wielding an ax.’”

That brought another giggle from Cora, and Mandy grinned widely at Trace.
See,
she said silently.
Isn’t life better when you stop hiding?
Only she meant when Cora stopped hiding.

Trace quirked an eyebrow. Not necessarily in agreement though.

They both bent to their work until they met in the middle. Their foreheads touched. Mandy dared not continue to use her ax. Not for the reasons Trace insinuated but because her hands weren’t steady. She edged back, pushed to her feet, and glanced at the sky. “Oh my. I didn’t realize it’s so late. I gotta go before Joanna sends someone looking for me.” She jogged to the path, paused to look back and wave. “See you both tomorrow.” And then she sped toward town and her worried sisters.

A few minutes later, Mandy raced by the men congregating outside the stopping house. Several of them looked startled. She didn’t care if they were surprised at her haste or the fact she wore trousers. The Hamilton girls did things their way.

“Where have you been?” Joanna demanded as Mandy skidded into the dining room. “I was so worried I haven’t served the meal yet.”

Glory came from the kitchen to watch. “I was about to ride up the hill and drag you home.”

“I’m sorry. But you’ll understand when I tell you what happened.” She pushed past and grinned at Glory. “Don’t say a word,” she whispered then grabbed up a big bowl of potatoes and headed back to the dining room. “Let’s get this bunch fed.”

“I can hardly wait to hear what kind of a story you concoct,” Glory whispered as they passed again. “But it better be good.”

Mandy shook her head.

She didn’t get a chance to say anything further until the meal was over and the men departed outside to wait for the dining room to be cleaned up and the table pushed against the wall, creating an area in which they could spread their bedrolls. The girls used the intervening time to wash the stack of dishes.

“I’m waiting for your excuse,” Joanna said as she scraped the leftovers into a bucket. Someone usually begged for scraps to feed their dog.

“I saw Cora today.” She told the whole story. “I don’t think her burn is that disfiguring, but she is very conscious of it.”

“The poor girl,” Joanna said.

Glory hooted. “I was thinking that poor man. Mandy has not given him a moment’s peace since she discovered him.”

Joanna and Glory looked at each other and grinned like they shared a secret.

“What?” Mandy demanded.

“We never said anything.”

“I saw the way you looked.” She planted her hands on her hips and gave them each her most insistent look. “You were thinking something.”

Glory nodded. “But you don’t want to know what it was.” She bounced away, holding up her hands, ready to defend herself. She tipped her head with a come-on-I’m-ready gesture.

Mandy ignored the taunt. “I do, too.”

“You’re sure?”

Joanna watched the pair sparring with a look of patient endurance.

“Of course I am.”

“Very well. But remember you asked for it.”

Mandy grunted. What could they possibly think she’d get upset about?

“It sounds very much like you can’t stay away from this Trace Owens.” Glory began edging toward the door. “I think you’ve found a man you’re interested in. Love is in the air.” She ducked out the door, calling over her shoulder. “Mandy and Trace. Mandy and Trace.” She raced across the yard and headed for the road, thinking she could escape.

Mandy threw the towel on the table and took off in hot pursuit. “You take that back.”

She didn’t catch up until they reached the little shop where Glory shoed horses. By then both were out of breath and collapsed to the step.

Finally Glory was able to speak. “Don’t you think it’s about time we met Trace and his sister?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll see if I can persuade them to come. But I wonder if Cora will be ready to let others see her.”

“Are you really beginning to care for this man?”

Mandy considered Glory’s question. “He is annoying and bullheaded, but I do admire how gentle he is with his sister.” She gave Glory a little shove. “People who treat younger sisters kindly can’t be all bad.” She shoved her harder. “Too bad you didn’t realize that.”

Laughing, Glory pushed back. Soon they were both giggling.

Glory glanced up. “Here comes Levi.” She sprang to her feet and waited for him to reach her side.

Levi stepped close and stole a kiss in the shadow of the doorway.

Mandy groaned. “Such inappropriate behavior especially for a preacher and his fiancée. You’re fortunate no one saw you.”

They both looked unrepentant.

Glory chuckled. “I’ll never be appropriate. Look at what I wear.” She indicated her tight dungarees. “Levi loves me anyway.”

“You’re exactly what this preacher man needs.” He took Glory’s arm and the pair wandered away.

Mandy watched for a moment. Somewhere deep in the inmost parts of her heart, she felt a longing for something similar.

Like Glory said often enough, Mandy was always looking for what her pa failed to give her. Only she wasn’t picturing Pa at this particular moment.

“Shoot. I must be losing my mind.” She stalked back to the stopping house to help Joanna.

For some inexplicable reason, the next morning she took her time about returning to the building site. She cut down a number of trees and bundled them together to drag to her house. But still she didn’t take them there.

All night she’d thought of Trace, even in her sleep. She dreamed of his gentleness and loyalty to Cora. She relived the way his hands felt on her shoulders, the way his eyes flashed bright blue or darkened according to his mood. The sudden awareness of something inside her she didn’t know existed until now… a jolt of an emotion she couldn’t name. But it seemed to have a Trace-shaped hollowness to it. Or so she’d decided in the middle of the night.

In the light of day, she decided she’d been more than slightly crazy.

But the remnants of the feeling lingered, making her uncertain how to face him.

She chewed on her lips. Mandy Hamilton never let anything upset her equilibrium. It was not about to happen now either.

Grabbing the rope, she pulled her load toward her house. Yeah, even she had a hard time calling it a
house,
but she’d never admit it. “Morning,” she called, as she entered the clearing.

Only after she dropped her burden did she bother to look around.

Trace, who’d been notching a log, straightened to greet her. Did she detect the same guardedness she felt?

For some reason, the thought gave her courage. She grinned. “Hard at it still? Not ready to concede defeat yet?”

“Not a chance.” He tipped his head toward the tent.

She was afraid to look. Had Cora holed up in there, prepared to sweat out the hot sunshine? When she saw Cora bent over the cooking fire, stirring a pot of something, she almost cheered. Yes, she still wore that silly poke bonnet as if it were armor, but she was outside.

Mandy sent Trace a wide smile.

He nodded, happiness wreathing his face.
“Thank you,”
he mouthed.

She tipped her head in acknowledgment. Though he might not be thanking her by the end of the day. Leaving the tent was only the first step for Cora. “Morning, Cora.”