Page 27 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes (Montana Mail-Order Brides #7)

Chapter Fifteen

D etermined to tell Flint the truth soon, Bryn had gone over one scenario after another as to how she would do it.

When would be the best time? Perhaps as they lay side by side under the covers in the cloak of night.

Or perhaps she should prepare a picnic and suggest they spend time away from the ranch.

Maybe it would be best to do it without Susie being nearby.

Bryn could ask Addie to entertain the child for a few hours.

But nothing she considered gave her the courage to say the words.

Flint was gone for the day again giving her a few more hours to find a plan she was comfortable with.

Bryn went to the garden with her hoe and gloves, Susie and Kitty accompanying her.

The rain had come. Plants poked through the ground and Addie had shown Bryn how to distinguish weeds from plants.

Addie’s garden was much farther along but Addie assured Bryn that given enough water, Bryn’s garden would still produce food for the summer and enough to store or preserve for the winter.

Tender leaves of dark green chard promised fresh greens in another day or two.

Bryn pulled out weeds between the chard plants.

She hoed out tiny unwelcome plants growing in the pathways.

Every day she carried her wash water to the garden and stood back, empty basin in her hand to mentally measure how much bigger the plants were than they had been the day before.

Chop, chop with her hoe. Bend and pluck out weeds.

Straighten to check on Susie and to run her gaze over the green, tidy rows of plants.

Peace filled her. This was the life she’d longed for since she could remember.

A place where she was valued for herself.

Where she had a purpose. Where she was welcome.

She saw no point in ruining what she’d found, and she gladly returned to her task.

The sun grew warm as it reached its zenith. Time to stop for lunch for herself and Susie. The task lacked the eagerness she felt when she prepared food for Flint.

After she and Susie had eaten, Bryn sat in the shade on a chair she’d moved to the side of the house.

Susie and Kitty played in the cool shadow of the house as Bryn mended a tear in one of Flint’s shirts.

He’d said he’d caught it on a nail. With a smile on her lips, she ran her fingers over the brown fabric, soft from many washings.

She pressed the shirt to her face and inhaled Flint’s scent that mingled with the smell of soap.

Mending took up most of the afternoon. She glanced at the position of the sun often, but it seemed to have stopped moving.

Finally, she decided it was low enough that she could start supper.

The stove would heat up the house, but she wanted to bake a pie from the stalks of rhubarb Addie had brought from her garden.

There were two loaves of bread left from her last baking, but she’d learned that Flint liked fresh biscuits, so she planned to make that as well.

Seeing as the stove was hot anyway, she might as well take advantage of it, and she made a pot of stew.

Two hours later, the food was cooked, and the stew simmered. She’d let the fire in the stove die down, hoping the breeze coming through the open door and windows would cool the house before bedtime.

White plates gleamed on the table. Knives and forks rested beside the plates. Everything was ready, but Flint hadn’t ridden into the yard yet.

“I’s hungry.”

Bryn stood in the open doorway watching the trail that would bring Flint back home. She turned to Susie. “Don’t you want to wait for Uncle Flint?”

“When he coming?” The way Susie rubbed her eyes, and the whiny tone of her voice were answer enough for Bryn.

“You can eat now and then get ready for bed.” She served food for the little one and took a position at the table that allowed her to see the trail and the barn.

Susie’s head drooped before she finished.

Bryn lifted her little niece, carried her to her room, and prepared her for bed. She tucked her in under the covers. Kitty curled up beside Susie. Both were asleep when Bryn tiptoed from the room.

She wrapped her arms around her middle as if she could still the anxious waiting and stared out into the darkening landscape. Flint had gone out to check on the herd several times before but had always returned before supper.

The last bit of light faded from the sky.

Why was he so late? What if he was hurt?

She rubbed her hand along her upper arms, surprised at how cool her skin felt.

Her legs feeling like they belonged to a stranger, she left the house, moved away a few steps, and stood still, straining to catch any sound.

One of the horses near the barn snuffled.

A bird called his last note of the night.

The breeze sighed around the corner of the house.

She stepped forward once more and then again.

Flint, where are you? He wouldn’t have left her if only because his heart belonged to the ranch.

The sound of her breathing filled her ears, and she held her breath to listen.

No sound of horse hooves. Nothing but the pounding of her pulse against her eardrums. Or was that—?

She strained to listen. Did the sound increase in volume, indicating an approaching horse?

It did not.

Flinging about, she rushed back to the house, pulled the door closed to keep Susie safe, and rushed up the trail to Jayce and Addie’s house. She almost stumbled, unable to see the path before her. The wood beneath her knuckles was rough as she knocked.

She barely waited for Jayce’s, “Come in,” before she burst into the room.

Both Jayce and Addie were instantly on their feet. “Bryn, what’s wrong?”

Jayce’s question echoed her own concern.

“Flint’s not back. He should be by now. He’s never this late. What’s wrong?” The words rushed out in an avalanche.

“I didn’t hear him ride in but thought I must have missed it.” Jayce reached for his hat as he talked. “I’ll have a look around.”

Addie caught her husband’s arm. “Jayce, it’s dark.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be careful.”

Bryn fell into step with Jayce as he strode toward the barn. His long legs forced her into a trot.

He reached the barn and lit the lantern. Held it high as he stepped down the alley, looking in each pen. “Just in case.”

In case of what? Why would Flint have ridden home and decided to stay in the barn? Another thought pushed into her head. Or did Jayce think he was sick and only made it as far as the barn?

A quick examination provided no sign of Flint.

“What’s happened to him?” The words wailed from her.

“I’ll ride out and see if I can find him. You wait in your house.”

Did she catch a harshness in his tone or was it only her own trembling heart that made it seem so? She caught his arm. “I hope he’s all right.”

Jayce paused to smile down at her. “Flint has taken care of himself since he was a youngster. No reason to think today is any different.”

As Bryn returned to the house to wait and worry, she found no comfort in Jayce’s words. Before she opened the door, she stopped and listened, hoping to hear a horse riding toward the ranch. But the only horse she heard was Jayce’s as he left the yard.

Bryn swallowed back an urge to call at him to go fast but she knew the darkness would necessitate that he proceed with caution.

Inside the house, she leaned against the closed door.

Lord, I don’t know what’s wrong. Flint should have been home by now.

Please keep him safe. It crossed her mind to promise to tell him the truth as soon as he returned but she wasn’t sure she had the courage to speak the words that might turn him against her.

She crossed to the western window. A faint hint of light clung to the mountain tops.

It served only to make the rest of the world dark in comparison.

Her restless feet hurried back to watch toward the barn.

Watch and wait. Pray and worry. Pace and stare.

The minutes crept by slowly. Each one twisting her insides tighter until she wondered why her breathing didn’t shatter her ribs.

The door rattled startling Bryn. She grabbed at her throat.

“It’s me.” Addie’s voice came from the other side.

“Come in.” Bryn could hardly make her voice work and failed to make her feet move.

“I’ve come to wait with you for our men to return.”

Bryn nodded.

Shoulder to shoulder they stood at the window.

“Let’s go outside,” Addie said after a few minutes. “We’ll hear them before we see them.”

The night air was cool. The sickle moon provided little light. Only normal night sounds came to them.

“I know something awful has happened.” The words squeaked from Bryn’s throat.

“Flint has certainly encountered some sort of trouble but there’s no way to know what it is.” Addie took Bryn’s hand. “Dear God, protect our husbands. Bring them back safely.” She ended abruptly.

More minutes dragged by as Bryn’s lungs grew heavier and heavier.

“I hear something.” Addie squeezed Bryn’s hand.

Bryn willed her thundering heart and squeaking lungs to be quiet. “I hear it too.” Horses. Their hooves beating out a rhythm. “They’ve come home.”

Addie ran to the barn, lit the lantern, and held it up, providing light to guide the men home. Bryn followed her, her eyes burning from straining for her first glimpse of Flint.

There were four horses coming toward them. One had a strange bundle across the saddle. But apart from acknowledging the fact, Bryn had eyes for Flint only.

He rode into the light.

She squinted. One side of his face was darkened with something. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw it was a body across one horse and a stranger sitting on another. His hands were bound, and a rope connected him to Flint’s hand.

This must be the rustlers Flint hoped had left the country.

Her knees went rubbery. What had happened?

The four horses went to the barn.

Only the doorframe held Bryn upright.