Instead of returning to the Monroe’s, Riley decided to take Medina for a ride around his own property. He did his best thinking—and lately, his best praying—on Medina’s back. He didn’t even bother to change out of his nice clothes.
About an hour into the ride, he didn’t feel any closer to having answers, but he felt that peace he’d come to know as God’s presence. And he felt a calm assurance that everything would be all right.
What he still didn’t know, however, was if all right meant his father would accept his decision to leave the ranch, or if Riley would be all right despite his father’s anger and rejection.
He also didn’t know if all right meant Emma would eventually return his love, or if Riley would move on without her by his side.
He repeated a prayer in his mind—a single sentence. God, I don’t know what You’re doing, but I know You’re good, and I trust You.
Faith, the best he could figure it, was a conscious choice. A choice to believe that no matter what, God would see him through the worst of times. No matter what, God would bring him to a good place. That’s where he was now. No clue as to how the next few days might play out, but he knew at some point, God would bring him to a soft landing spot. Wasn’t it kind of like the Israelites? They wandered forty years in the dessert, but they eventually ended up in the Promised Land.
He was just about to turn back toward the house when he heard voices up ahead, and decided to investigate. It was Donnigan and Joe, working together to replace an old fence with barbed wire. Donnigan looked sober, like his old self. Maybe soon, he’d find his way back from whatever dark dwelling place he’d been in.
“Well, if it isn’t Uncle Riley,” Donnigan said, sarcasm marring his normally pleasant features.
“Donnigan. Joe.” Riley nodded to the men, but refrained from commenting on Donnigan’s attitude.
“You come to check up on me?” Donnigan asked.
“Nope.” What was his problem?
Donnigan snorted.
Riley decided to ignore his brother’s rudeness. He probably had a hangover. He looked at Joe. “Glad to see the barbed wire I ordered came in. I’ve heard good reviews on it.”
Joe nodded and started to speak, but Donnigan interrupted. “We’re so grateful for your help, sir.”
“Look, Donnigan. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you. Why don’t you just come out with it?”
“You took Skye to church.”
“Yeah. So?”
“I don’t want her paraded around for everyone to point and whisper about the little Injun girl. She’s worth more than that.”
“She’s also worth more than having a drunk for a father.” As soon as the words were out, Riley wanted to take them back, but it was too late.
“Maybe so, but I’m what she’s got. She’s my daughter, you hear me? Mine. Not yours. Not your little friend’s.”
“No one wants to take her from you. But you’ve gotta get it together.”
Donnigan cursed and looked like he would have thrown a punch if Riley hadn’t still been in the saddle.
“Look, Joe, I’ll help you finish this tomorrow. I’m leaving.” Donnigan threw down his tools and set off on foot in the direction of the cabin. After a few yards, he about faced. “Skye is not going to become some traveling side-show freak. You understand me?”
Vulnerability broke through the anger on Donnigan’s face. He was scared. But at least he was out here working. Trying. He’d lost his wife. Riley never met her, but Donnigan must have loved her. Why hadn’t Riley offered more comfort? Why hadn’t any of them?
And Donnigan loved his daughter. Despite his dependence on alcohol, he wanted to protect her.
Riley watched his brother for a moment. “I understand.”
Donnigan nodded, then turned around and continued toward the cabin.
Riley heaved a sigh, climbed down, and hooked Medina’s reins around a low branch. He looked at Joe. “Sorry about that. I’ll help you finish up here.”
Joe handed Riley a pair of pliers and an extra set of gloves. “It won’t take long to string these last couple of wires.”
The two men worked in silence for several minutes. While holding the wire tight, Riley thought about whether or not he should broach another uncomfortable subject with Joe. Might as well. Couldn’t get much more awkward than a family fight.
“Joe, I was wondering...” Riley wasn’t sure how to phrase his question. There really wasn’t a graceful way to ask. He decided to just dive in, head first. “Are you and Emma...I mean...are you courting her?”
Joe’s head whipped up so fast his hat flew off. “What?”
“I...see you two talking sometimes. You’re a single fellow, and she’s a beautiful woman, and...”
Joe laughed a long, low chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stratton. It’s just...sometimes folks can be dense.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Joe chuckled some more, squatted back in position, and proceeded with the wiring. “The answer is no. Miss Monroe and I are not courting.”
“So...if some other fellow decided to call on her, you wouldn’t take offense?”
“I don’t see where it would be any business of mine. But no, I wouldn’t take offense. Miss Monroe is a nice lady. She deserves to find happiness. I just hope she finds someone worthy of her.”
Riley was so relieved, he wanted to whoop and holler. Not that Joe’s opinion mattered that much to him. But at least he knew Emma’s heart wasn’t committed elsewhere. Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of Joe’s last statement. He wasn’t sure anyone, anywhere could ever be worthy of a woman like Emma Monroe.
The day had started out like something out of a fairy tale, at least to Emma’s way of thinking. First, she got to dress like a princess. The ladies of The Temperance Society, most of whom Emma had known her entire life, treated her...differently.
Oh, they’d always been nice to Emma. But today, seeing her in that dress, they seemed to see her more. Listen to her more. And though she was still a servant, she was treated more like an equal.
Or maybe they didn’t treat her differently. Maybe she just felt different. It was amazing what a new dress could do to one’s attitude.
But then, Riley showed up. Sat right next to Clara. For several minutes, they whispered to each other in intimate tones. Emma tried to ignore them. Tried to act every inch the ladies’ maid, or companion, or whatever it was Allison wanted her to be in the moment. But try as she may, every ounce of energy was tuned in to Riley and Clara, like her heart had antennae honed in to that very spot in the room.
After a while, Riley left. A few minutes after that, Clara left. Were they meeting each other? Some kind of lovers’ rendezvous? It was all Emma could do to keep her composure. She smiled at Skye, whispered to the girl that she did a fabulous job. But her mind, her heart, were with Riley. She’d thought maybe when he saw her in this dress...but no. She could never compete with Clara. She was foolish to hope.
Riley couldn’t stop whistling. He whistled all the way back to the house, where he changed back into his work clothes. He whistled as he went into the kitchen, hoping for a bit of leftover cake from the party, and hoping even more Emma was there to give it to him.
She was. Changed back into a normal dress, and her practicality made her all the more attractive to him.
“Got any more of that cake?” he asked.
“Mr. Stratton, I thought it was understood that this is my domain while I’m working.” Her tone was cool. What had he done now?
Women.
“I’m sorry. I—“
“It’s fine. Have a seat.” She cut him an extra large piece of cake, along with a tall glass of milk. “Where is Clara?”
“Clara?”
“Yes. I saw her leave shortly after you did. I thought the two of you were together.”
“Me and Clara?” Even Emma wanted them together? Et tu, Bruté? “Why does everyone keep putting me with Clara?”
She whipped her neck around. “Aren’t you courting her?”
He looked at her, held her eyes. Tried to say the thousand words in his heart with that look. “No.”
She met his gaze, like she had a thousand words of her own she wanted to say. Then she even gave him that smile that made the moon look like an afterthought. And, she sat right down at the table with him and asked if he’d enjoyed his ride. Which meant she’d noticed he went on a ride.
“It was very pleasant, as a matter of fact.” Except for the exchange with Donnigan.
“That’s nice. Medina seems like a good horse.” She blushed, tinting her cheeks a lovely shade of pink.
This was turning out to be a very good day, indeed. He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “I’m headed back to your place. Maybe I’ll see you this evening?”
“I...hope so.” She smiled again and looked down at her hands. Such pretty hands.
He waited for her to look at him again, and he winked at her—a move he’d seen some of the other fellows do at university, but one he’d never been bold enough to try himself.
She turned red as an overripe plum, grinned, and looked away.
Yep. Today was one of the best days he could remember. He pushed his chair back, placed his dishes in the sink, bid her good day, and began his whistling again, which he couldn’t cork all the way to the Monroes’ house.
He was amazed at the progress they’d made in the few hours he’d been gone. All four walls were now framed, and two of the beams were in place for the roof.
But progress that afternoon was slow, taking longer to haul the heavy beams up to the roof level. And since they weren’t framing the roof on the ground like they did the walls, they had to be more careful. The last thing they needed was for someone to get hurt.
By the time the foreman called it a day, Riley was covered in sweat like the rest of them. Which made it all the sweeter when he saw Emma, waiting on her porch with a big smile and eyes that...what? He couldn’t quite describe the change in her eyes, but it sure felt a lot like love.
“Good evening, Miss Monroe.”
“Good evening, Mr. Stratton. Would you like to join us for dinner again?”
He wanted to say yes. Wanted to say yes more than anything. But he really needed to get home and have that talk with his father. No sense putting things off any longer. The building was framed.
But there was Emma, looking prettier than a field of flowers in the morning dew. And he was hungry. “I’d love to, if it’s not too much trouble.”
He’d talk to Dad when he got home.
And first thing tomorrow, he’d ask Charlie Monroe for permission to court his daughter.
Emma held Riley’s gaze, waiting for an answer, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a secret message in those deep pools of honey-gold. She hoped there was. Oh please God. Let this be happening. Could Riley really be interested in her?
He agreed to stay for dinner. “I’ll see you at the house, then.” Emma left him with a smile, but resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. For a few yards, anyway, when she gave in to temptation and looked back. He watched her, with that crazy look on his face. She blushed down to her toes and turned toward her destination, but she couldn’t coax away the delight in her step, or the flushed feeling in her cheeks.
She thought about that wink he gave her back in the kitchen. Scandalous. But she couldn’t stop grinning about it. Did that make her a scandalous woman?
Maybe. But for the moment, it sure was fun.
Since that wink, Emma’s thoughts hadn’t strayed far from the tall, broad-shouldered man with the amber-brown eyes and the cleft chin. At the house, she scrambled to make a meal fit for the man of her dreams, as quick as possible. Fortunately, they had squash. Lots of it. She made quick work of a squash-and-onion casserole, fried potatoes, fluffy buttermilk biscuits, and some smoked venison she’d been saving for a special occasion.
They ate quickly. Pa was tired, and bid them good night, and Lyndel went out to catch fireflies. She hoped Riley would stay a while, maybe sit on the porch and talk. But instead, he helped her clear the table and announced he had business at home.
“I see. Well...have a good evening.” Emma fought to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“Dinner was delicious, as always.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
He stood there a minute, like he wanted to say more, shifting back and forth from one boot to the other and clearing his throat. But then he put his hat on his head, told her good night, and walked out the door. Just like that. It was all very odd.
She stood at the door until he got to Medina, not knowing if she should follow him onto the porch or not.
But then, before he stepped into the stirrup, he turned back around, and flashed that wide smile of his with those heart-crushing dimples. “You have sweet dreams, Miss Emma Monroe. I know I will.”
And then he turned, climbed into the saddle, and rode into the sun-soaked horizon.