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Daniel picked up his rifle and hit the path toward home. It wasn’t long before a wagon overtook him on the road.
“Want a ride?” His brother-in-law, Lowell Griffiths, pulled up beside him. A plain-featured man with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a bone-deep optimism, Lowell was married to Daniel’s sister Evelyn, and just happened to be Annie’s brother.
“Sure.”
As Daniel vaulted in, Lowell asked, “What’re you smiling about?”
“Tommy’s sending his love to Jesse, and I’m trying to figure out if there’s a man in the Territory who’s not in love with her.”
“Forget it. You have to count all of us. Even me.” And with a sideways look at his friend, Lowell added, “Even you.”
“I wonder what it is?”
“Don’t know. Maybe it’s because she’s not what her brother said—what everyone believed she was. Maybe we’re trying to make up for that in some way. It’s hard to imagine, once you know her, how anybody could’ve believed she was bad.” After a few minute’s silence, Lowell asked, “Where you going?”
“Nowhere special.”
“How’d you like to come for supper? Annie’s cooking tonight.” Though Annie lived in town with her father, the family often ate together at Lowell’s dairy farm. At Daniel’s soft, clear laugh, Lowell said, “I take it that means yes. You know, I woulda gambled on it.”
“I just bet you would.”
When they arrived, Daniel kissed Evelyn on the cheek, then stepped back to look her over. She was expecting her first child in a few months. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine. I just wish it weren’t quite so hot.” She shoved at her red hair that was curling wildly in the humidity, trying in vain to smooth it down.
“I asked Daniel to supper,” Lowell told her.
His wife gave a snort of amusement. “Annie’s in the kitchen—why don’t you tell her Lowell’s home?”
Daniel sketched a bow and drifted silently to the back of the house. At the kitchen door, he watched his fiancée for a moment as she moved from larder to stove in a spacious room that was neat as the proverbial pin. Annie was a pale, slender girl with flaxen hair that fell half-way down her back in a single braid, and he was utterly charmed by the picture she made in her green dimity dress and crisp white apron.
She greeted him with a shy gladness. He kissed her lightly and watched a rosy blush rise to her cheeks.
“Something smells good,” he told her.
“I made some bread this afternoon,” Annie said, not quite disguising the pride in her voice. “And there’s beef stew and pole beans. And huckleberry pie. But that’s from yesterday,” she added with an elfin grin. “Maybe we don’t want that.”
“Don’t want what?” Annie’s father, Owen Griffiths, stood in the doorway.
“Annie’s pie. She thinks we don’t want it ’cause it’s a whole day old.”
“Hmmph. Just gives it more time to mellow.” Owen pinched his daughter’s cheek. He was a small round man with a bald pate and wide, callused hands capable of fine work in leather. The rounded vowels and crisp consonants in his speech marked his Welsh beginnings. “You’re a tease, girl. Always have been. Ever notice that, Daniel?”
“Nope.” He watched her blush again as he took the stack of dishes from her and began to set the table.
As she helped him, Annie watched Daniel out of the corner of her eye. When his hand touched hers, she felt a sadness in him beneath the casual banter they engaged in. And when, during the meal, her father asked after things on the ranch and out in the canyon, he seemed somehow removed from their conversation.
After dessert, which resulted in the disappearance of the huckleberry pie, Owen and Annie walked the half-mile back to their cottage in the village. Daniel joined them, holding Annie’s hand along the way while Owen teased them good-naturedly.
Owen retired to his workshop, leaving the young couple sitting together on the porch in the twilight. The village was quiet as they watched the sky turn from crimson to rose. He reached out to touch a stray wisp of her hair.
“What’s wrong, Daniel?”
He dropped his hand and leaned his head back against the house. “Oh, Annie,” he answered, his voice rougher than usual. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Is it Alec? What would he do if you told him?”
It didn’t surprise Daniel that she’d recognized his problem. She’d always been adept at reading his emotions. “I don’t know, aroon,” he said. “I’d like to think it would bring him some peace of mind—that he could accept it. But he’s so torn up, I’m afraid of what he’ll do.
“He blames me for deserting him. He blames Tommy for not protecting Elena. He’s not thinking straight, and he could do so much harm. So much harm.”
“It’s Jesse, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re protecting her.”
“Annie...”
She raised a finger to his lips. “Daniel, I won't tell anyone. Do you think I’d hurt her?”
“No, aroon. I know you couldn’t.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, pressed his cheek against her hair. “Annie, I love you, but I’ve sworn not to tell anyone.”
“I know,” she whispered, “but it’s in your voice when you talk about her—in your eyes when you watch her.” She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight.
He whispered her name and she raised her face to his. He kissed her forehead, then held her head against his shoulder with a strong, gentle hand. “Aroon, if you know this, tell me how to protect her. Tell me what’s best.”
“Your heart will tell you, Daniel.”
“It tells me that to protect her, I must hurt Alec. I wish there were some other way.”
“So do I, Daniel. So do I.”
The sky deepened to darkness as he held her there, and she felt a gradual easing of his burden. She asked him no questions, for she knew he wouldn’t answer her, yet he wouldn’t have known how to refuse.
When the moon appeared, he rose to go. She walked with him to the street, where he touched her hair once more and wished her good night.
“I love you, Annie,” he said. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He reached for her but she was gone too quickly, fleeing to the house. She turned at the door, her face on fire. He stood stock still for a moment, then his laughter, as clear and pure as a bell, pealed out behind her.
“Aroon!” he called. My love. He blew her a kiss as she ducked into the house.