A loner of a man with a deep-throated laugh that broke out unexpectedly from time to time, surprising the cowboy as much as it did those who heard it.
“I felt so high and mighty about riding a horse my brother couldn’t that I climbed to the loft and jumped out the open door.”
Mercy laughed as if it was the funniest thing ever.
Sybil gasped. “Why on earth would you do that?”
“I was ten. I didn’t need a reason. But I guess I thought riding a wild horse made me invincible.”
Sybil laughed softly. “Let me guess. That’s when you were injured.”
“My brother broke my fall, but I still busted my arm.” He held it out and had a good look at it.
Mercy leaned back on her hands, her gaze darting frequently to Dawg.
Sybil’s mind raced with questions. How many could she ask before he refused to answer? “What happens when you get bucked off?”
“If I did get bucked off—” he made it sound like a far-fetched possibility “—I’d just get right back on and finish the job.”
His answer pleased her. She liked the idea of a man finishing what he’d begun. Except, she reminded herself firmly, in this case, it meant he would break horses and move on. That’s the job he’d begun.
Not that she cared one way or the other.
You’re not telling yourself the truth here, Sybil.
Oh, hush. Her inner voice could be so annoying at times.
Annoyingly right, maybe? Because you wish that he’d stay around.
I do not. How could I wish for anything so foolish? A dangerous man. A leaving man. I’m paying attention only because he saved my life and I want to write a good story.
You’re hiding from the truth.
Sybil wasn’t interested in whatever so-called truth that annoying inner voice meant.
Chapter Three
Brand had almost forgotten about breaking his arm. But only because he hadn’t seen Cyrus in a long time. Cyrus never missed a chance to remind him that he likely owed his life to his big brother, and as a result, his big brother deserved a few favors in return. Trouble was, Brand wasn’t prepared to dish out the sort of favors Cyrus had in mind. A sour taste filled his mouth. Because of Cyrus and Pa, Brand could never hope for anything but a nomadic lifestyle.
“Have you ever been hurt riding a horse?” Sybil asked, her voice a melody of calm and sweetness...a marked contrast to his thoughts and the raw sounds he normally heard on a ranch. Her gaze riveted him like velvet nails, compelling him to answer.
“A few bumps and bruises. Nothing to take note of.”
Dawg wriggled closer to Sybil. Well, if that didn’t beat all. Brand couldn’t remember when the animal had shown the least sign of interest in another human being. Dawg could spot a sly fox a mile away. Brand could only assume he could equally well spot a sweet, innocent, woodland miss. Maybe this woman warranted further interest. It wasn’t like he would be around long enough to put her in danger. He eyed the plate of food. It would have to wait until the ladies left. If he dug in now, they might see it as time to leave.
“I was about to have coffee. Care to join me?” He had only two cups, but he would drink from a tin can. He filled the cups and passed one to each of the ladies.
Sybil’s blue eyes held his.
He couldn’t remember how to fill his lungs.
Mercy leaned forward, her expression eager. “You must have seen most of North America.”
The question, posed as a comment, broke his momentary lapse and he settled back with his coffee. “Been around some.”
“Have you been to the Pacific Ocean?”
“Nope. Never had no mind to see it.”
She sighed. “I’d love to see it.”
Sybil made a scolding noise. “Mercy is restless. Always looking for the next big adventure.”
“Uh-huh.” He had little interest in the excitement-craving woman. He picked up a piece of kindling and kept his attention on the rough edges of the wood. “And what are you looking for?” He meant the question for Sybil.
It was only conversation. Words to pass the time. But he raised his eyes enough to watch her from under the protection of his lashes.
Her own eyes darkened to the color of the evening sky and her lips pressed together. A very telling gesture. She wanted something she couldn’t have. A man, perhaps? But what foolish man would refuse such a woman anything, including his heart and love? Unless he had the kind of life Brand did. One that didn’t allow him to give heart and love to anyone. Sometimes he wondered why God had made him a Duggan. Or more correctly, given him a pa and brother like the ones he had. Seems God could have arranged things just a little better.
“I’m quite happy with my life as it is,” she answered after a beat of silence.
She might think it true, but he didn’t believe her.
Mercy made an exasperated sound. “Someday, Sybil Bannerman, you’ll discover your life is far too safe.” She fixed Brand with a daring look. “Sybil lives a very careful life. Never takes risks. Obeys all the rules.”
He thought of how his pa and brother lived a lawless life. “Rules have their purpose.”
“Thank you.” Sybil favored him with a beaming smile. “That’s what I’m always telling Mercy.”
“Okay. Okay.” Mercy tossed her hands in the air. “I agree to a point. But rules should not become chains. There are certain risks and adventures that don’t follow rules. It’s a crying shame to avoid them.”
Brand stared into the fire.
He was a risk. Miss Sybil would do well to avoid him and remember the safety of her rules.
“How much longer will you be here?” Sybil asked, and his heart took off like one of those stampeding horses.
He managed to slow it some. It wasn’t as if she asked because she wanted him to stay, he told himself. She was only making polite conversation.
“I’ll likely finish up tomorrow, then me and Dawg will move on.”
“I enjoyed watching you work today,” she said. Did he see admiration in her eyes? And why did it matter? He’d move on before she learned his true identity. Heaven forbid she’d learn it before he left and he’d see the shock and horror in her eyes. Best to change the subject.
“So how long have you ladies been in the country?”
Mercy nudged Sybil and answered his question. “A couple of months. Three of us ventured over. Jayne, the other girl, is Eddie’s sister.”
“So you’ve come to visit western Canada? Then you’ll go back to your English home?” Unless they had an eye to marriage out here and with the shortage of young women in the country, they wouldn’t have any trouble fulfilling such plans.
“Yes,” Sybil said.
“No.” Mercy shook her head. “Sybil, why would you want to go back? You have nothing left back there.” She turned to Brand. “Her parents are dead. She has no other family.”
He wanted to stuff a handful of grass in Mercy’s mouth at the way her words sent shock waves through her friend’s blue eyes.
Sybil tipped up her chin. “It’s my home and I have Cousin Celia.”
Mercy snorted and lifted