The coulee with its constantly changing array of flowers was Kate’s favorite place away from the farm site. Yet she hadn’t been there since Jeremiah died. She hadn’t had time. The farm took every minute of her life and all her attention, demanding even more than her children received. But today she intended to make up for all the times she’d been too harsh, too hurried, too distracted. Today they were going to enjoy themselves. Hatcher included.
She shuddered as she recalled the way Doyle’s announcement speared through her like a well-aimed pitchfork. Her quick defense of Hatcher had been automatic, the accusations against him as unbelievable as someone naming Dougie a gunfighter. Not that Hatcher denied it. Something had happened, and Kate, curious, wished Hatcher would tell her. But whether or not he chose to wouldn’t change her conviction, her unquestioning knowledge of his innocence.
Once her initial shock died away, her throat practically pinched shut. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like to be accused of such a crime. How had he been involved enough to receive such a terrible charge? But whatever happened had to have been an accident or a mistake.
How she ached for the pain and shame he’d faced, continued to face. She’d seen his resigned look when Doyle delivered his information. The wary guardedness in his eyes. Knew he’d experienced rejection because of the murder charge. It explained his hobo lifestyle.
She wanted nothing more than to ease that pain, erase the guardedness, comfort his sorrow. She longed to hold him close but the best she could do was include him in this outing, prove to him she didn’t believe he’d done wrong. Remind him of all the good things life offered.
She laughed from the pure joy of an afternoon free of the demands of work. She wanted to run and jump and holler like Dougie did. And laugh and dance like Mary. Instead she held her excitement at bay. But it swelled until her heart and lungs and stomach couldn’t take any more. For a moment she thought it might erupt uncontrolled, unfettered, unmanaged. But she metered it out in little laughs and wild waves of her hand as she pointed out the nearby farms to Hatcher.
“Listen,” she said, and they all ground to a halt and turned toward the sound of the train whistle as it passed through town five miles away. She and the children laughed and Hatcher looked amused, whether at hearing the train in the distance or their exuberance, she couldn’t say. Nor did it matter. For the first time in months she felt young and full of life. Today was for enjoying with her children and Hatcher.
She stole a quick glance his direction, confused at all the things his presence made her feel. She knew if he’d stayed at his work this afternoon he’d be close to finished. She’d purposely taken him away to delay the inevitable—he’d be gone once the crop was seeded.
She stopped the direction of her thoughts. She wouldn’t mar this day dreading the time he’d walk down the road without a backward look. She wouldn’t admit the hollowness in her middle at how lonely she’d be. Instead, she turned her attention back to the beauties of nature—the satin-blue sky, the rolling sweep of the buff-colored prairie.
“There it is,” she called, pointing to the dark line indicating the coulee. Dougie raced ahead. “Be careful,” she called. Then promised herself not to ruin the day with worries.
“There. Look.” She pointed toward the perfectly round hollow three or four feet in the ground solidly paved with purple flowers crowded in so thick they hid their own leaves. “Your father—” she told Mary “—said this was a buffalo rub. I guess that’s why the violets do so well here.” The air was sweet with the smell of spring. “Impressive, don’t you think?” she asked Hatcher.
Hatcher shifted his gaze from studying her to the flowers. “Lots of them.”
She’d caught a look in his eyes making her throat suddenly refuse to work. Tenderness? Longing? Or was it only a reflection of her own emotions? No. She knew what she’d seen. But what did it mean? That he wanted something more than his past provided? Did he need her to convince him he didn’t need to keep running?
“Hatcher—”
“Look,” Dougie called. “A hawk’s nest.”
“Can I pick some?” Mary asked, standing at the edge of the mass of flowers.
She jerked her attention to her children, her cheeks stinging. Did she think all he needed or required was her permission to stay? If it needed only that, he would have stopped running before the first year on the road ended. Something stronger than the wrongful murder charge drove him.
Grateful her children had saved her from making a fool of herself, she turned to her daughter. “Let’s get some on the way home.”
Mary nodded and raced toward Dougie and the hawk’s nest.
Kate took a step to follow them, stopped, turned her gaze first to the sea of purple then gathering her courage, faced Hatcher. “I hope you can let yourself enjoy the afternoon. I want everyone to have a great time.” She wanted them to have an afternoon full of sweet memories for the future. For a few short hours, she’d let nothing interfere with the joy of sharing this special time with Hatcher.
His eyes, dark as a moonless night, revealed nothing, his flat expression gave no insights into his thoughts but then his lips curved slightly at the corners.
It was enough. A quiet whisper of hope brushed her thoughts and she laughed. “Shame to miss what life has to offer.” She held his gaze for a moment.
He shifted, looked past her, putting a wide chasm between them as effectively as if he had jumped to the far side of the coulee.
Her pleasure and hope were snuffed out like a candle extinguished.
“‘The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established—’”
She cut him off before he could quote the whole book from wherever the verse came. “Stop trying to hide behind your recitation.”
She knew a wave of gratification when he looked shocked.
He hesitated only briefly. “Psalm twenty-four.”
She pursed her lips. “I’ll be sure and check it out.”
He flashed a glance at her, managing to look both surprised and a tiny bit offended.
She smiled, her lips taut across her teeth. How she’d like to shake him from his incredible composure.
“Momma, look.”
Dougie’s call turned her attention away from Hatcher.
Her son hovered close to the edge of the bank, peering over the edge at a nest in the tree below. Suddenly he dropped from sight. Mary screamed. Kate gasped and Hatcher raced forward, Kate at his heels.
She skidded to a halt at the edge of the cliff, as breathless as if she’d run a mile rather than a few steps.
Dougie clung to bushes four feet down. Solid ground lay twenty feet below.
Her heart trembled. “Hang on, son,” she called. “I’ll get you.” She stepped closer, swayed at the nothingness below her. She flung her head around looking for something, anything to aid her. A bush, even a good clump of grass to cling to. Saw nothing but dried blades of grass. She could slide down to his side. But how would she get him up. She teetered forward, gasped and leaned back. What if she caused him to fall the rest of the way? She closed her eyes as fear burst through her veins, erupting in hot spots at her nerve endings.
Hatcher grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. “I’ll get him.”
The pulsing need to rescue her son wouldn’t let her relinquish the job to another. “He’s my son.”
“Yes, ma’am. You stand back and let me help him.”
She turned, saw the dark assurance in his gaze. She trusted him completely. She was safe with him. Her son likewise safe. She nodded.
Hatcher flopped on his stomach and reached for Dougie. Eight inches separated his hand from Dougie’s. Hatcher edged forward, still couldn’t reach him.
Kate gasped as Hatcher started to slide. He was going over the edge, too.
He edged backward to safety.
“Momma,” Dougie cried, his voice thin with fear.
Instinctively, Kate knelt at the edge reaching toward him.
“Stand back,” Hatcher ordered.
Automatically she obeyed his authoritative voice.
“I don’t want to have to pull you up, as well,” he said in a softer tone.
Her limbs felt as if they’d been run through the cream separator as she watched her son struggling to hang on.
Hatcher sprang to his feet, found two rocks, wedged them solidly into the embankment then dropped to his stomach again.
When she realized his intentions, her legs gave out and she sank to the parched ground.
He wormed forward until his shoulders rested on the rocks. As he reached toward Dougie, one rock shifted.
Mary screamed.
The sound shredded Kate’s nerves. “Quiet.”
She didn’t let her breath out until the rock dug into the sod and held.
Hatcher’s hand reached Dougie. He wrapped his fingers around the boy’s wrist.
“Grab hold as hard as you can,” he grunted, the sound struggling from compressed lungs.
Dougie grabbed on and Hatcher began to edge backward.
The air closed in around Kate, suffocatingly hot, impossible to breathe. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she watched Hatcher pull her son up, inch by inch.
“Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.” She murmured the words aloud, unable to pray silently.
Hatcher reached level ground and jerked Dougie over the edge of the embankment to safety.
Laughing and crying, she grabbed her son, wrapping herself around him. When she could speak, she said, “What were you thinking? You can’t just throw yourself over a cliff and expect to survive.”
“Momma, I fell.”
Kate hugged him close. “I know you did but you scared me so badly.” She sank to the grass and pulled Dougie to her lap. Sobs racked her body.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Mary threw herself on top of them. They tipped over in a tangle of arms and legs. Tears gave way to laughter.
Kate hugged both children and looked up at Hatcher. “How can I ever thank you?”
He smiled. “You just did.”
At first she thought he meant her words, then noticed his dark eyes sparkled with laughter and realized he meant the amusement of watching the three of them tumbled in a heap.
He sobered but didn’t blank his expression as he usually did. His dark gaze held hers with unwavering intensity as something eternal occurred between them.
He shifted, broke the connection. When his gaze returned he had again exerted his fierce mental control.
Her stomach ground fiercely. She’d wanted to shake him from his composure. It had taken Dougie’s accident to succeed in that. She didn’t know if she should rejoice in his momentary lapse or mourn the fact it was so brief.
One thing she knew, she didn’t want her son to repeat the episode for any reason, not even to bring about a break in Hatcher’s reticence. She scrubbed Dougie’s hair with her knuckles and kissed Mary’s head.
“I don’t think I’m going to let you out of my sight for the rest of the day,” she warned her son.
“I’ll be careful,” he promised, leaping to his feet. “Did you see the nest?” He ran over for another look.
Her heart leapfrogging to her throat, Kate pushed Mary aside and gained her feet in a rush. But Hatcher had already corralled the boy and gently guided him to a safe distance.
“A man always keeps his eye on what’s ahead, making sure he won’t step into something dangerous.”
He twitched as if the words had hit a target in his mind.
He was teaching her son to think before acting but did he think to apply his words to his own life, his past and the crime he’d been accused of, the present and her little family or the future and the open road?
She glanced around. Her children were safe. Thank God and Hatcher. The sun was warm. The sky blue. The prairie dotted with flowers of purple and yellow. Hatcher chuckled at something Dougie said. If only she could stop time, keep life locked on a day like today, only without Dougie trying to scare her out of ten years.
If only she could persuade Hatcher to stay.
Her eyes locked hungrily on him as he played with the children. His hair sorely needed cutting, yet it didn’t detract from his rangy good looks. A man with unquestionable strength. The sort of man she’d gladly share the rest of her life with.
She gasped and turned away from the sight of him as the awful, wonderful truth hit her.
She loved him.
She breathed hard, stilling the rush of emotions reverberating through her veins. She knew with certainty she had never before been in love. She’d cared deeply for Jeremiah. She had a certain fondness for Doyle. But never before had she felt the power of a merciless, consuming love.
And foolishly, she’d made the mistake of learning the depths of her heart by falling in love with a man who would never stay.
She leaped to her feet, a boundless energy begging for release. “Let’s play tag,” she called. “Not it.”
The children quickly called “Not it” and danced away from Hatcher. His expression shifted—surprise, refusal and then mischief. He turned away to stare down the coulee. “Who said I wanted to play?”
Dougie sidled up to him. “Aww, come on. Play with us.”
Kate saw it coming and laughed as Hatcher spun around and tagged Dougie. “You’re it.”
Dougie looked surprised, swallowed hard then headed for his sister but Mary had guessed what was coming and raced away, then turned and headed toward Kate. Squealing, Kate broke into a run, Dougie hot on her heels. When had her son learned to run so fast?
He tagged her easily.
She leaned over her knees, catching her breath. Waiting until they all moved in, teasing and taunting her. She continued to pretend to be out of breath until she saw Hatcher out of the corner of her eye. She waited, gauged the distance then sprang at him. He leaped away but she tagged his elbow. “You’re it,” she gloated.
“Cheater,” he growled. “You were faking.”
“Part of the game.”
Hatcher headed for Mary, who screamed and took off at an incredible pace. Kate shook her head. Both her children had grown so much and she’d hardly noticed except to buy new clothes. Dougie bounced around at what he considered a safe distance but suddenly Hatcher veered to his right and lunged at the boy, tagging him before he could escape.
They played until, breathless from running and weak from laughing, Kate called a halt. “I’m going to melt into a little puddle soon.” She flopped on her back. “Wish we’d brought some water.”
The children joined her, one on each side and Hatcher sat a foot away, his arms draped over his bent legs.
“We should take more holidays,” Dougie declared.
“You are absolutely right.” Kate promised herself she wouldn’t let so much time pass before she played with her children again. She blew out a sigh. “I suppose it’s time to go home.”
“Aww,” the children chorused.
“Soon,” Kate said, as reluctant to end the day as they. She sat up. “Days like this remind me why I like the prairie.”
“I hate the wind,” Mary murmured.
“It’s okay as long as it isn’t blowing all the dirt around,” Dougie said.
Kate glanced at Hatcher. Saw her worry reflected in his eyes. It hadn’t rained for days. And then barely enough to settle the surface. All it needed for a dust storm was a hot dry wind. Her hair tugged at her scalp. Had the wind increased as they enjoyed the spring day?
She pushed to her feet. “We better go.”
Before they reached the shelter of the farm, a black cloud appeared in the south. Mary started to cry. Kate grabbed Dougie’s hand; Hatcher grabbed Mary’s and they broke into a hard run. Dust stung their eyes as they raced for home. They veered around the barn, found a pocket of wind-free shelter, took in a deep breath and made the last dash for the house. They burst in, pushing the door closed behind them.
Kate didn’t slow down. “I have to plug the holes.” She grabbed the pail of rags and began dampening them, stuffing them around the window frames. “Here.” She tossed Hatcher a thick rug. “Put this under the door.”
He looked at the rug, looked at the door, looked at her. “I should go.”
“Not in this.” The room darkened. The wind screamed like a demented animal. Dirt rattled against the window like a black snowstorm.
Mary huddled on the chair farthest from the window and sobbed. Kate didn’t have time to deal with her right now.
Hatcher took a deep breath, glanced around the room as if he thought he’d find some other means of leaving then dropped to his knees and started pushing the rug under the door where fine, brown dirt already made its way in, sweeping across the floor like a stain. “Can’t seem to get it in right. Mary, do you know how to do it?”
Kate, busy trying to stop the dirt from finding a way in, spared little attention for the others but turned at his request.
Mary hesitated then slowly went to his side. “It’s easy. Like this.” She knelt beside Hatcher showing him how to push the rug under the door.
Hatcher glanced up, caught Kate’s gaze on him and managed to look embarrassed and triumphant at the same time.
She mouthed the words, thank you.
He shrugged.
The children would miss him when he left.
Her eyes stung and she turned away to hide the heat of her love.
Kate finished and looked around. “It’s the best we can do.” Still dirt sifted across the floor. She would find it in her cupboards, her closet, her shoes.
Hatcher stood with his back to the door. He twisted his hands, his eyes darted from object to object, everywhere but directly at her.
“Hatcher.” She kept her voice calm and low. “You’ll stay here until the storm is over.”
At the reminder of the weather, Mary sobbed.
Kate grabbed the lantern. “No point in sitting in the gloom. Who wants to play a game?”
Dougie, at least, looked interested.
“Do you remember how to play Snakes and Ladders?” Dougie shook his head. Had it been that long since they’d played games together?
“I do,” Mary said, her tears gone. “Poppa used to play it with us.”
“That’s right. Your father loved to play games of any sort. It’s still in the hall cupboard.” She went to the hall and found it under layers of coats and blankets. She pressed the box to her nose, remembering Jeremiah’s smell, his delight in games, his competitiveness. She could never beat him and if, occasionally, she did, he insisted on a rematch. She soon learned to let him win so they could go to bed.
She carried the game to the kitchen table and opened it. “Come on, Hatcher. Join us.”
He hovered at the door.
Dougie pushed a fourth chair to the table. “You can sit by me.”
Hatcher hesitated then hung his hat on a nail and shuffled over.
Kate stifled a smile, amused at his inability to refuse any reasonable request from the children, rejoicing to have him at her table, if only briefly. She’d have the scene to help sustain her in the future. She handed him a game piece and they began.
Mary quickly recalled how to play. Dougie needed a few instructions but the game was simple enough for even younger children.
Hatcher, at first, was quiet, stiff. But after he hit a snake and fell back three rows and Dougie laughed, he grew intense, acting like he had to win. She soon realized it was pretense. Mostly he tried to give the children a good time.
She loved him the more for his goodness to her son and daughter.
Mary forgot the dark sky, the sharp wind until something solid hit the wall. She jerked forward in her chair. “What was that?”
Hatcher shrugged. “Someone’s outhouse?”
Kate laughed. “I hope it was unoccupied.”
Mary looked startled then offended before she laughed. “You’re teasing me.”
“Might as well laugh as cry,” Hatcher said.
Mary blinked. “I guess I’ll laugh then.” And she did.
It was Dougie’s turn to play. He moved five places, hit a snake and returned to the start. “That’s the third time I got sent back.” He leaned back and stuck out his lips.
“Be a good sport,” Kate said.
Hatcher’s turn followed. He hit a snake and returned to the third square. He sat back on his chair. “I’ve been here three times already.” When he imitated Dougie’s pout, Kate laughed.
Mary was next. She moved, hit a ladder, advanced three rows and smirked.
It was Kate’s turn. She let out a huge sigh when she hit neither snake nor ladder.
Hatcher winked at Dougie. “Your turn. You’ve got nowhere to go but forward.”
Cheered by the idea, Dougie abandoned his pout.
They played for more than an hour while the storm continued. Finally Kate shoved away from the table. “I’ll have to make supper.”
Hatcher jerked to his feet. “I’ll go milk the cows.”
She stopped him with a hard look. “Wait until the storm ends. Besides the cows will have found shelter and will refuse to move even to get milked.”
She fried up potatoes and the last of the pork. Mr. Sandstrum had given her carrots from his root cellar in return for the milk she took over so they had cooked carrots. “Time to put the game away.”
Mary packed it away carefully then helped set the table.
Kate served up the meal, indicated Hatcher should remain where he was.
He looked ready to leap up and let the wind carry him away.
Happily, she’d stopped all the holes and he couldn’t escape.
She sat down. “Will you say the blessing, Hatcher?”
He blinked, looked at each one around the table, then bowed his head and prayed. “Heavenly Father, thank You for Your many blessings and especially the gift of food. Amen.”
As he prayed, she imagined him at the head of her table, day after day, offering up prayers of gratitude, surrounding the family with love and support. Kate kept her head bowed a second after his “amen,” pulling her futile wishes into submission.
“Help yourself.” As she passed him the meat, their gazes connected.
“I should not be here.” He spoke softly as if he didn’t want the children to hear.
She thought he meant because of what Doyle had said, the stigma of his past.
“You have neighbors,” he murmured.
Realizing what he meant, her eyes burned. People would consider Hatcher’s presence inappropriate.
“I’d send neither man nor beast out in this weather. It will surely end soon, though I can’t imagine how much damage it will have done. Last time we had a blow like this, it brought down the board fence next to the barn and the cows got out and moved with the storm. They ended up at the Olivers. They could have just as easily missed the barn and ended up in the next state. You never know with cows.” She clamped her mouth shut to stop her babbling and turned to serve Mary potatoes.
Not until Mary’s protesting, “Momma,” did she stop.
“Oh dear.” She’d scooped half the bowl onto the child’s plate. What was she thinking? She took most of it back.
She closed her eyes and filled her lungs slowly. There was no reason to be all twisted up inside. But she couldn’t get Hatcher’s presence out of her senses. People would certainly talk if they could read her mind and see how desperately she wanted him to stay.
“Momma, did I ever play Snakes and Ladders before?” Dougie asked.
Thankful for his distraction, Kate pondered his question a moment. “I don’t suppose you did.”
“Hatcher, you ever play it before?” he asked the man.
Hatcher stared at his plate, the food untouched.
“Hatcher?” Dougie asked, puzzled that his question wasn’t answer.
Hatcher shook his head. “Sorry. What did you say?”
Dougie repeated the question.
Hatcher picked up his fork. “Used to play it with my brother.” He put his fork down again and stuck his hands beneath the table.
“You have a brother?” Kate stared. It was the first bit of information Hatcher had ever revealed and she knew he hadn’t intended to.
“Used to have.”
Mary gasped. “He’s dead? Like my Poppa?”
Hatcher kept his head down. “Not so far as I know.”
“What happened to him?” Mary demanded.
Hatcher looked at the child, pointedly avoiding Kate’s wide-eyed curiosity.
“Nothing. I expect he’s fine. I just haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Why not?”
His shoulders crept toward his ears, his eyes grew dark. Kate felt sorry for him. The more he tried to extricate himself from the hole he’d stepped into, the deeper he got. She was every bit as curious as the children. She wanted to know more about this man.
“I haven’t been home in a long time.”
Both children watched him now. Kate could feel their curiosity, their sadness that anyone should be away from home too long. She shared their concern. Home meant comfort and safety to her. But she wasn’t sure what it meant to Hatcher. With the accusations he’d faced, perhaps home meant other things to him.
“Don’t you want to go home?” Mary asked.
Hatcher’s expression grew tighter with each passing moment. Kate couldn’t stand any longer to witness his discomfort. “Children, enough questions. Eat your supper.”
He sent her a brief look of gratitude then turned his attention to the plate of food before him.
But Mary continued to stare at him, her blue eyes swimming in tears. “You can stay with us.”
Kate stared at her daughter. “Mary, what a thing to say.”
Mary blinked back her tears and gave her mother a defiant look. “Why can’t he stay? Everyone needs a family.”
Kate’s shock softened. “You’re right.”
“Don’t you want to stay?” Dougie asked.
Hatcher’s eyes turned to liquid coal. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.” He gave each child a gentle look. “But I can’t stay.” He raised his eyes to Kate and smiled—regretfully.
Her heart sang. He didn’t want to leave.
If she could stop time it would be at this moment—this tender, fragile moment when the four of them shared a common place, acknowledged a single wish.
How would she manage when he left? To still the pain that didn’t have the kindness to wait until he left to make itself known, she forced her thoughts to the farm.
The seed would be in the ground but then there was haying and eventually, God willing and with the gift of rain, the crop to harvest. She could hire someone with a threshing machine. But she didn’t want to go back to what she was before he came—driven to do it all, driven to keep the farm at all costs. The one cost she hadn’t thought about, had overlooked, was her children.
Yet it was for them that the farm had to remain intact. Never would she allow them to experience the fear and cold and misery of not having a solid roof over their heads. Never would they know the feeling of stomach-clenching uncertainty about the future.
Jeremiah told her as long as she held on to the farm, they would be safe and sound. It had been harder than she imagined, more work, more responsibility.
If only Hatcher would stay...
Together they could manage nicely. But it wasn’t for the sake of her children or the farm she wanted him to stay. It was for her.
She hadn’t been lonely since Hatcher came. She could look out the window any time of the day and see him, slouched into a comfortable posture on the tractor, or heading to or from the barn, milk pails swinging from his hands, or striding across the prairie on his way from the little shanty.
How could she, in such a short time, have grown used to seeing him? Anticipated looking up and glimpsing him nearby. Felt settled and safe by his very presence.
How ironic. She’d never before felt safer and it was with a man accused of murder, though Hatcher could no more murder someone than Mary could. It just wasn’t in him.
“Is there any way I can persuade you to stay?” she asked.
The lines around his eyes deepened. His lips flattened as he met Kate’s begging gaze. “I can’t.”
She nodded, ducked her head to hide her disappointment. “Finish eating,” she murmured to the children. “There’s chocolate cake for dessert.”
They ate in silence. Silence? “The wind has died down.”
Everyone cocked their head and listened then resumed eating without comment but even the cake didn’t excite them. The children were saddened at the idea of Hatcher leaving.
They finished up. Kate offered tea. Hatcher refused and pushed from the table. But before he could escape, an automobile growled into the yard. Kate glanced out the window and groaned. “Doyle again?” She hurried to the door at the sound of his knock.
“Hello, Doyle. Have you come to make sure we weathered the storm?”
“I knew you’d be fine.” He peered past her shoulder. “What’s he doing in your house? I thought he’d be gone.”