Chapter 12

Gideon kept the horse to a reasonable pace: slow in deference to the mud, but quick in light of the dangers of getting stuck overnight in such weather. He’d never had much of a temper, yet he was struggling to hold back his frustration. If he couldn’t trust Miriam to give him an honest answer, even if that answer was “I’d rather not say,” how could he entrust her with the well-being of hundreds of people?

The rain came down in sheets too strong and too constant for even the roof of the buggy to keep them entirely dry. What he wouldn’t give for some isinglass curtains for his buggy.

Miriam sat with a blanket wrapped around herself. She’d not said a word since they’d resumed their journey. For the first thirty minutes, she’d sat facing away from him. Then she’d moved closer to him, though likely because the weather had turned so miserably cold. He didn’t for a moment believe things were patched up between them. And he couldn’t for the life of him explain why he wished they were.

When she’d sat in his arms under that tree, content and comfortable, he’d had the most unexpected sense of serenity. The isolation he so often felt had disappeared, not merely because someone was beside him, but because she was.

Then he’d reached out to her with tenderness and sincerity, and she’d responded with a lie. An unhesitating, determined lie. He had, it seemed, only been fooling himself. Again.

The mud was growing thicker, but they weren’t too far from home. He could work out his tension with an hour or two on his cello.

He felt her brush against his shoulder. He looked over just as her head bobbed against him.

“Sorry,” she slurred as her head bobbed again. Twice more the exact scenario played out.

“Lean your head against me,” he said. “We still have a few miles to go.”

“Sorry.” But she let her head settle on his shoulder. As they continued down the wet road, she silently grew heavier against him.

This was what he’d hoped for when he’d sent for a wife. Some­one to sit beside him, to talk with, to chase away his loneliness. Someone to argue with hadn’t been on his list. He’d seen enough tension between his parents to know he didn’t want to live that way.

The vast nothingness spread out on either side as the rain continued and the day grew dimmer until, at last, they reached the outskirts of Savage Wells. Gideon guided the buggy down the main street, pulling to a stop in front of the livery stable.

“Miriam.” He gently nudged her.

Her eyelids fluttered a few times before opening.

“I have to stable the horse and buggy. We’ll have to run back to my house in the rain.”

She nodded, though he couldn’t guarantee she fully understood.

He hopped down. “Be right back.” He ran inside, braving the downpour. It took but a moment to let Jeb know he was back. The man was a wonder with horses and equipage; he’d have the wet, soggy mess sorted out in no time.

Gideon returned to the buggy. He reached up for Miriam. She allowed him to lift her to the ground. He moved the blanket from around her shoulders so it covered her head, then he grabbed the picnic basket.

“Run like your life depends on it.”

They ran across the narrow gap behind the buildings on Main Street. Mud splattered everywhere, squishing into his boots and piling heavy on his trouser cuffs. Neither of them slowed until they came around the side of his house and onto the front porch.

He pulled his house key from his pocket. As he began sliding it into the lock, the door inched open. Why wasn’t it locked?

“Someone is in my house,” he said under his breath, peeking around the doorframe. “Wait here.”

“And freeze to death? Not a chance.”

He stepped inside, Miriam right on his heels, eyeing the entryway for signs of an intruder. Heavy footsteps approached from the parlor. Gideon reached behind himself, taking hold of Miriam’s hand, reassuring himself she was there and safe. A broad-shouldered figure stepped out.

Cade. What was he doing there?

“You ought to know you can’t leave town without some kind of disaster happening while you’re away,” Cade said.

“What disaster?” He didn’t release Miriam’s hand, though he no longer suspected any danger. He was, it seemed, a glutton for punishment, allowing himself to imagine the comfort he felt in that simple touch wasn’t going to hurt him in the end.

“Barney wandered off,” Cade said. “He’s been found; he’s not in danger. But he took a thorough soaking, and Paisley’s worrying herself into a whirlwind, afraid he’ll develop an inflammation of the lungs like he did the last time he was drenched to the core.”

“I’ll have a look at him.” He turned to Miriam, pulling his hand from hers and holding the basket out to her. “Change and warm up, then have a bite to eat.”

“But there’s a patient,” she said.

“I don’t need your help with this.”

Color splotched her cheeks, just as it had in the meadow when he’d admitted to his disappointment. She lowered her eyes. “I understand.”

She turned and stepped into the small room beneath the stairs and closed the door. A chasm was growing between them, and he didn’t know whether to try to bridge it or simply accept that this was what happened anytime he let himself grow fond of a woman.