The Shepherd's Voice (23 page)

He frowned, remembering her strange mood last evening. She could deny it all she wanted, but he knew he was responsible for her tears. She wasn’t a woman who cried at the drop of a hat. If she was sad, it had to be because of him.

He draped an arm over his eyes as he stifled a groan. Everything she’d done for him was kind and caring. She’d taken him in when he was nothing more than a starving bum. She’d given him work when his own father wouldn’t do it. She’d rejected the opinions of the townsfolk of Ransom—not to mention Brodie Lachlan—and treated him with respect. And finally she’d agreed to marry him. He owed her a great deal. The least he could do was find a way to make her happy.

How do I do it? How do I make her happy? God
,
don’t let me fail her. Not Akira.

He heard the front door close and knew she’d gone to do the milking. Time he was up and about too. He had a full day ahead of him, and he needed his chores done early if they were going to the barn dance.

And they
were
going.

He liked the idea of dancing with Akira. He liked the idea of showing her a good time. Maybe the Wickhams and Lachlan would join them. Maybe they could take the Wickhams’ truck, if Charlie thought it would make it all the way north to the Candleberry farm.

Pauline glanced out the window at the passing countryside. She’d traversed this road countless times in the years she’d been married to Hudson, going to Boise to shop or to see her parents and visit friends. Any excuse that would take her away from her husband.

If only I could get away from him for good.

She’d never loved Hudson, not even in the beginning, and eventually, she’d learned to despise him.

Now she feared him.

He’d called last night from Washington, D.C. Although she didn’t know the nature of his business in the nation’s capital—and Hudson wouldn’t dream of telling her—it had been clear he wasn’t happy with what had transpired thus far. She didn’t know why he’d called her, other than that he’d needed someone to intimidate. He’d chosen her.

“It worked too,” she muttered softly to herself.

Eugene, her chauffeur, slowed the automobile, then turned off the road. Sheep—hundreds of them, she supposed, maybe thousands—grazed in the rolling pastureland on both sides of the long and winding driveway. In the distance, she saw a man with a
shepherd’s staff standing near a tall pine. He motioned with his free hand, and a dog took off at a run, its body in a slightly crouched position as it approached some sheep. She couldn’t see what happened next as her car went over a rise and the shepherd, sheep, and dog disappeared from view.

She looked ahead, toward the collection of buildings that made up the Macauley ranch. Or was it the Talmadge ranch now? That was what Hudson wanted it to be.

She frowned. Why did he want this piece of land so badly? He owned much of the land hereabouts, not to mention nearly every business in Ransom. Didn’t he have enough?

You know what you have to do
,
Pauline. Now do it. Do you understand
,
my dear?
She shivered, remembering the threat that had been so clear in his false endearment.

Eugene braked, bringing the car to a stop. He got out and came to open her door. He offered his gloved hand, which she accepted, allowing him to assist her as she stepped from the automobile.

She looked around. There were several log houses, the larger of them set apart from the others. Different kinds of outbuildings of various sizes surrounded a spacious barnyard. The place had a rustic appearance, but everything seemed solid, too. Built to last for generations. Of course, she had little knowledge of farms and ranches. She was a city girl. She didn’t know how she’d ended up in this backwater logging town.

No, that wasn’t true. She was here because she’d wanted to be rich. Obscenely rich. She’d wanted it for herself, and her parents had wanted it for her. And so she’d sold herself to the devil to get it.

Something twisted in her chest.

At that moment, Gabe appeared around the corner of one of the outbuildings. He hesitated when he saw her there, then continued forward.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Gabe.” She smiled. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time. To see the flowers? Remember? I would have called, but …” She shrugged, tipping her head slightly to one side.

Get close to him
,
Pauline. Real close. You understand me?

Oh yes. She understood Hudson’s meaning. But could she do what he wanted? A year ago, even a few months ago, she’d have had no qualms using her charms to seduce Gabe. He was tall, handsome, and near her own age. It would be a pleasure to spend time with him.

But things were different now.
She
was different now, although she couldn’t explain why or how. She only knew she didn’t want to deceive him. She didn’t want to use him for her own gain. She didn’t want to hurt his wife, either. Akira had been kind to her. Kinder than anyone in Ransom had been in the years she’d lived here.

Not that she’d given others much of a chance to be kind or otherwise. She’d always thought herself above them.

“Come on in the house,” Gabe said, interrupting her thoughts. “Akira’s fixing us something to eat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so close to dinnertime. Why don’t I wait out here until you’re —”

“Akira will insist you join us, so there’s no point in arguing.”

Akira did seem glad to see Pauline. She smiled and greeted her warmly, insisting she sit at the table and eat with them, as Gabe had said she would.

Hudson would be pleased
, Pauline thought, but she took no satisfaction in it.

The food was both simple and delicious, and although Akira and Gabe discussed ranch matters, things of which Pauline had no knowledge or experience—separating grown lambs from ewes, preparations for shipping to market and the expected price they
might bring, plowing fields under for winter—Akira somehow made her feel like a participant.

When the meal was over, Gabe rose from his chair and began gathering the dishes. “You show our guest around. I’ll see to these.”

“All right,” Akira agreed. She looked at Pauline. “It’s too late in the year for most of the flowers, of course. You’ll have to make sure you come in the summer when they’re at their best.”

Pauline wasn’t listening. She was trying to imagine Hudson clearing the table of dirty dishes. Then she tried to imagine her husband watching her with an adoring gaze, the way Gabe had watched Akira throughout the meal. She tried and failed.

There was no point, she realized, in throwing herself at Gabe. Hudson could threaten all he liked. She would be wasting her time. Gabe couldn’t even see Pauline. Not as a woman. He had eyes only for his wife.

Lucky Akira.

Gabe saw more than Pauline guessed. A man didn’t spend a third of his life among the devious and dishonest without learning to read people. Pauline wasn’t the sort of woman who came calling for no reason. Akira thought it was because she was lonely. Maybe. But there was more to it than that.

Through the window, he watched Akira and Pauline stroll side by side down the drive.

His father’s wife was a beautiful woman … and aware of it too. He suspected she could turn the charm off and on at will. From what he understood, Pauline had stayed aloof from the townsfolk since marrying Hudson in ’25. So why was she making a point of becoming Akira’s friend now? It wasn’t as if the two of them had a whole lot in common, the society dame and the shepherdess.

Judge not,
the Scriptures said. He’d read the verse that morning.

Maybe he
was
judging her, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe? Well, okay. He
definitely
was judging her. But somebody had to protect Akira from her own sweet innocence. If he didn’t do it, who would?

Brodie Lachlan would, for one.

The lass might convince him to accept her husband, but there was no way on God’s green earth Brodie would ever trust the wife of Hudson Talmadge.

From the hillside upon which he stood, he observed the two women as they returned to the large black automobile. He watched them clasp hands, then Pauline got into the rear seat, aided by her chauffeur.

“’Tis an ill wind what brought ye here,” he muttered.

He rubbed his thigh, his leg aching, a reminder of one more reason not to trust a Talmadge. His so-called accident had been the work of Hudson’s lackeys, trying to be rid of him so Hudson could take Dundreggan from Akira. Brodie didn’t have proof of his suspicions, of course, but he didn’t need any. He knew. Deep in his gut, he knew.

He turned and walked slowly toward the flock grazing on the upper hillside.

The lass had changed in the weeks he’d been away from Dundreggan. Marriage had changed her. She’d always been a strong one, physically and spiritually. She’d always been wise beyond her years. But now there was a deeper maturity about her. Brodie couldn’t say he understood it, but it was there all the same.

“Akira Talmadge.” He glanced up. “Old Fergus must be rolling in his grave.”

Frowning, he admitted Gabe didn’t
seem
to be like the man who’d sired him. Nor did he resemble the reckless, spoiled youth of Brodie’s memory, the one whose temper and anger had brought about his brother’s death. For that matter, Gabe didn’t much resemble the man who’d first arrived at Dundreggan, hungry and hopeless.

He makes Akira happy.

Brodie grunted.

Aye, she’s happy.

He’d even admit the lad had accomplished a lot around the place. Gabe was a tireless worker, now that he had his strength back. It had been years since the fences were in such good repair. The main house had new screens over the windows. Gates and doors swung open without the squeal of rusty hinges. The henhouse sported a new roof to keep out the rain and snow, as well as tightly strung wire to keep out predators. The stack of firewood had multiplied many times, promising warmth throughout the coming winter.

And he makes Akira happy.

Brodie grunted again.