WHEN THEY LEFT THE CLEARING NEAR MCHENRY’S cabin, Buck led the way. He chose a trail that was steeper at the beginning, but that opened up after only a quarter mile, allowing him to fall back and ride beside Charity from then on. The more time he had beside her, the better, he’d decided.
While she might have been content to ride in silence, Buck wanted to keep her talking. It was more than liking the sound of her voice. As much as he’d learned about her over the summer, he hadn’t learned enough. He wanted to know more. And so he asked her a question. Something about her writing to start with. When she reached the end of her answer and fell silent, he asked her something else. Whatever popped into his head. He had no agenda beyond knowing her better.
Finally, after close to an hour, she reined in and gave him a hard look. “Enough with the Twenty Questions, Mr. Malone.”
For a moment he thought he’d irritated her, but then he saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He raised his hands, palms up, in a I-couldn’t-help-myself shrug.
A little roll of her eyes said she didn’t believe him.
They nudged their mounts forward.
“Your turn,” she said.
“My turn for what?”
“Don’t pretend ignorance. I don’t believe you.”
Why did he feel so good? He couldn’t figure it out. He was almost euphoric.
“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”
“Something you don’t know. Hmm.” He rubbed his jaw between thumb and index finger. “I’m kind of an open book. Not sure what that would be.”
“All right. Answer this: why didn’t you go on to college like everybody expected? I know you said it just didn’t work out, but there must be more to it than that.”
He shook his head slowly. “You knew my dad died, right?”
“Two or three years after graduation, wasn’t it?”
“Two years after, and that whole two years I watched my dad die by degrees. It was tough, helping Mom take care of him, seeing him fight so hard even when there was little hope. Mom couldn’t have taken care of him alone. Not physically or emotionally. And even if she’d been strong enough, I couldn’t have gone to college. The scholarship wouldn’t have paid for everything. What money there was left after the medical bills needed to go to Ken so he could get his master’s degree. He was so close to it by the time Dad passed. Plus Ken was married with kids. He had a lot on his plate.”
He fell silent for a short while. She didn’t intrude on his thoughts.
“It took a long time to dig out of the medical debt. The last of it was paid off when Mom sold the house. Then she moved to live with her sister in Arizona. By that time I was working for the outfitter and discovered how much I liked it.”
When he glanced at Charity again, he saw surprise in her eyes.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know all of that,” she said softly, her gaze shifting toward a break in the trees. “I suppose I was too preoccupied with my own life to listen if anybody tried to tell me.”
There it was again, that flicker of pain and sadness. Buck hadn’t seen it since the day of Eddy’s birth, and he’d begun to wonder if it had been a fluke. The times he’d seen her since then, she’d seemed in good spirits.
“I’m sorry, Buck. I should have known how difficult it was for you.”
“It’s okay, Charity. You weren’t around, and I’ve never talked about it much. Probably plenty more folks than you don’t know how it was either.”
She released a soft sigh, then repeated, “I’m sorry, Buck.”
IT WAS UNPLEASANT, CATCHING A GLIMPSE OF YET another less than noble trait in herself. Buck had been kind, offering her an excuse for her ignorance, but the truth was she’d paid little attention to the trials and tribulations of others for far too long. She’d ignored even those closest to her. Maybe she hadn’t been a close friend of Buck’s, but someone—most likely her own mother or sister—must have shared some of that news about Buck and his family. But Charity hadn’t been listening.
They continued down the mountainside, silence surrounding them at last. Even Cocoa grew quiet, trotting along nearby, no longer looking for small game to stir from the underbrush. Wondering if she’d spoiled the day for Buck, Charity looked over at him. He didn’t look upset or troubled. Either he wasn’t or he was good at hiding it.
As the pine trees began to thin, Buck pointed off to the south. “Look. There’s the backside of the Riverton estate.”
Her gaze followed his outstretched arm. She could see the tall, wrought-iron fence and brick posts. Ponderosa pines mostly obscured the house beyond the fence.
“Too bad about Jon.”
Charity’s throat tightened, but she managed to ask, “What do you mean?”
“He lived large and crashed hard.”
“Are the two of you still friends?” She held her breath as she waited for the answer.
“Can’t say that we are.” Buck frowned. “Not since high school. Jon took a path that I wasn’t willing to walk down, and he didn’t have time for anyone who didn’t want to live and think the same way. After he came home from college, I saw a smallness, a meanness, in him that I didn’t recognize when we were younger. Booze and drugs only made it worse, and he was into both. As long as Sinclair was alive, he managed to keep his son a little in check. Once the old man passed, it was a fast slide downhill for Jon. He managed to lose everything his father spent a lifetime building.”
A shudder passed through Charity. She remembered the meanness. She’d seen it up close.
“I pray for him when I remember to,” Buck added, his voice low.
Pray for Jon. That voice in her heart made her breath catch again. Pray for him.
Never. She could never pray for him. Not after what he’d done to her. Not after what he’d taken from her. If not for him—
“Charity?” Buck’s hand closed around her horse’s reins, stopping him. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, feeling as though her throat were caught in a vise.
“You can trust me, you know. I’m your . . . friend.”
My friend. It felt good to hear him say that.
“I’d like to help if I could. Even if it’s only listening.”
She met his gaze and shook her head a second time, unable to speak. The secret was lodged too deep inside. A decade of silence had sealed it there.
“Okay.” He let go of the reins. “But remember, I’m here if you need me.”
If he didn’t stop being nice and sensitive and kind, she was going to burst into tears. She clucked to her horse and continued down the trail.
BUCK WASN’T ANYBODY’S FOOL. HE’D NOTICED THE change that came over her when she’d seen the Riverton estate. Her face had gone white, then flushed. He’d heard the difference in her voice when she’d asked about Jon. Two plus two always made four. And Jon plus a girl? All the way back to high school, that combination had meant trouble.
What did he do to you?
Buck wanted to know the answer . . . and dreaded getting one. Both. Equally. At the same moment. But she would have to tell him in her own time and in her own way. If she ever told him.
He nudged his horse and caught up with her. “We’ll take that cutoff to the left,” he said.
That hadn’t been his original plan, but the alternate trail would get them out of sight of the Riverton estate faster. That’s what was important to him now. He just wanted to take care of Charity.
Take care of Charity.
Not that long ago, Buck had been determined to look out for number one and only number one. So why did taking care of Charity suddenly sound so good to him?
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer either. Because if he acknowledged it, everything would change—including Buck himself.