could, the cows they’d sought came into view. Julia and Hugh reined their horses to a stop. Some of the herd lifted their heads to look at them, then went back to grazing. Several calves cavorted, looking almost as if they were playing a game of tag.
“I love this time of year,” Julia said softly.
Hugh must have heard her, for he looked her way, as if waiting for her to expand upon her comment.
In a whisper, she said, “New life. Fresh hope.” And then her thoughts hurtled back to a distant spring when she’d been young — and even a little hopeful.
“Julia, sit still and look at me.”
When her mama spoke in that tone of voice, Julia was quick to obey. To do otherwise, she’d learned, would earn her a swat on the bottom and time spent sitting on a small stool in the corner. Julia hated the second even more than the first.
“You’re not to leave this house while Mama’s at work. Do you understand?”
“I get scared alone,” Julia replied. “It’s dark and I hear things.”
Mama’s expression softened. “Oh, my darlin’ girl. I know. I know you get scared when it’s dark and I’m not here and this old place creaks and groans. But I have to work or we’d go hungry. We wouldn’t have this little house, such as it is, to live in if it wasn’t for my work at the saloon. One day we’ll leave Grand Coeur and go some place far from here. Like a couple of birds, we’ll just fly away. Someday you’ll live in a nice home and nobody’ll look down on you no more. I swear it. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear I’ll make sure you don’t have to live the rest of your life the way I’vehad to live mine. I want you to stretch your wings, my darlin’ girl, and learn to soar.”
Julia wasn’t sure what her mama meant by all she said, but she nodded as if she understood.
“I love you,” Mama added, cupping Julia’s chin in her hand. “When you get scared in the night, you just pull those covers over your head and you hear me say those words. Okay?”
Again she nodded.
“Someday it’ll be better.” Mama turned and looked toward the window. “Someday it will.”
“New life. Fresh hope.”
Julia’s simple words, spoken poignantly, had made Hugh think of his youngest sister. He didn’t know why. Julia didn’t resemble Diana. Unlike Hugh or Felicia, his baby sister had taken after their mother — red hair, green eyes, pale complexion. He recalled her as adorable and impish. Even when she got caught in some mischief, she’d managed to escape punishment. Even their drunk of a father had favored Diana, the child who saw the world through rose-colored glasses. He wondered if she still saw it that way, eighteen years later.
“My goodness,” Julia said. “We both grew rather pensive.”
He cleared his throat of unwelcome emotion. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He looked up the hillside to his right — and for just a moment, thought he saw something among the trees. Maybe a horse and rider? He squinted. No, he didn’t see any movement. But the hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end, and the feeling unsettled him.
“Shall we go back, Mr. Brennan?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll ride the fence line while I’m out this way.” He looked at her again. “I’ll be back by suppertime.”
She returned his gaze for a moment, then called for Bandit and turned her horse toward the house.
Hugh watched her go and wondered what made her want to remain on this ranch so far from civilization. Alone. Unprotected. Vulnerable. He wished …
He shook his head and looked once more toward the trees on the hillside. Nothing there. His eyes were playing tricks on him. So were the hairs on his neck.
He nudged the horse forward. They moved down a slope and rode through the cows and up to the fence that followed the hillside about twenty yards from the copse of trees. There they stopped, and Hugh’s eyes once again raked the area. Only when he was completely
“I love this time of year,” Julia said softly.
Hugh must have heard her, for he looked her way, as if waiting for her to expand upon her comment.
In a whisper, she said, “New life. Fresh hope.” And then her thoughts hurtled back to a distant spring when she’d been young — and even a little hopeful.
“Julia, sit still and look at me.”
When her mama spoke in that tone of voice, Julia was quick to obey. To do otherwise, she’d learned, would earn her a swat on the bottom and time spent sitting on a small stool in the corner. Julia hated the second even more than the first.
“You’re not to leave this house while Mama’s at work. Do you understand?”
“I get scared alone,” Julia replied. “It’s dark and I hear things.”
Mama’s expression softened. “Oh, my darlin’ girl. I know. I know you get scared when it’s dark and I’m not here and this old place creaks and groans. But I have to work or we’d go hungry. We wouldn’t have this little house, such as it is, to live in if it wasn’t for my work at the saloon. One day we’ll leave Grand Coeur and go some place far from here. Like a couple of birds, we’ll just fly away. Someday you’ll live in a nice home and nobody’ll look down on you no more. I swear it. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear I’ll make sure you don’t have to live the rest of your life the way I’vehad to live mine. I want you to stretch your wings, my darlin’ girl, and learn to soar.”
Julia wasn’t sure what her mama meant by all she said, but she nodded as if she understood.
“I love you,” Mama added, cupping Julia’s chin in her hand. “When you get scared in the night, you just pull those covers over your head and you hear me say those words. Okay?”
Again she nodded.
“Someday it’ll be better.” Mama turned and looked toward the window. “Someday it will.”
“New life. Fresh hope.”
Julia’s simple words, spoken poignantly, had made Hugh think of his youngest sister. He didn’t know why. Julia didn’t resemble Diana. Unlike Hugh or Felicia, his baby sister had taken after their mother — red hair, green eyes, pale complexion. He recalled her as adorable and impish. Even when she got caught in some mischief, she’d managed to escape punishment. Even their drunk of a father had favored Diana, the child who saw the world through rose-colored glasses. He wondered if she still saw it that way, eighteen years later.
“My goodness,” Julia said. “We both grew rather pensive.”
He cleared his throat of unwelcome emotion. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He looked up the hillside to his right — and for just a moment, thought he saw something among the trees. Maybe a horse and rider? He squinted. No, he didn’t see any movement. But the hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end, and the feeling unsettled him.
“Shall we go back, Mr. Brennan?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll ride the fence line while I’m out this way.” He looked at her again. “I’ll be back by suppertime.”
She returned his gaze for a moment, then called for Bandit and turned her horse toward the house.
Hugh watched her go and wondered what made her want to remain on this ranch so far from civilization. Alone. Unprotected. Vulnerable. He wished …
He shook his head and looked once more toward the trees on the hillside. Nothing there. His eyes were playing tricks on him. So were the hairs on his neck.
He nudged the horse forward. They moved down a slope and rode through the cows and up to the fence that followed the hillside about twenty yards from the copse of trees. There they stopped, and Hugh’s eyes once again raked the area. Only when he was completely
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