Summer of Promise (29 page)

Ethan looked around. There was no sign of snakes here, and Abigail seemed stronger. He dismounted and helped her off Samson. This was one conversation he did not want to have on horseback. He needed to watch Abigail, to see her expression as well as hear her words.

“Tell me,” he said simply.

She swallowed, and he saw pain reflected in her eyes. “Luke was one of my neighbors when I was nine years old. Most days he and his brother would play games like hopscotch and tag with me and my sisters, but one rainy day Charlotte was ill and the weather was so miserable that Elizabeth and I stayed indoors. Luke and Richard must have been bored, because they decided to play soldiers in their barn. They weren’t supposed to, but they took their father’s shotguns with them.”

Abigail shuddered again. “I went to the outhouse, and as I was leaving, I heard the shot and the screams.”

Even before she described the scene, Ethan knew what had happened.

“When I got there, blood was gushing out of Luke’s chest and Richard was screaming as if he was the one who had been shot.” Abigail clenched her fists, releasing them slowly. “I’ve hated guns ever since.”

Memories of the attempted stagecoach robbery flickered through Ethan’s brain. No wonder Abigail had been so alarmed when he’d pulled out his Colt. No wonder she cringed whenever a cannon was fired. She had even flinched at the Independence Day fireworks.

“It’s true that guns can kill,” he said, “but they can also save lives. Like today.”

She nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for being so silly.”

“Abigail, you’re the least silly person I know. It’s not silly to be afraid. Fear helps keep us alive. But you need to know how to protect yourself. We’ll start your lessons tomorrow.”

Abigail’s eyes widened. “What kind of lessons?”

“Shooting. You need to learn how to handle a gun.”

“I can’t.” Abigail began to tremble, and Ethan longed to draw her into his arms again.

“Yes, you can. You can do anything you set your mind to.” He tried not to cringe at the image of her holding off that deadly serpent. “What if I hadn’t come?”

She shook her head slightly. “But you did. God sent you at exactly the right time. I prayed for help, and he sent it.”

Was it God’s urging that had brought him to Abigail? Whatever the reason, Ethan was grateful he’d been there, for he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this woman who had somehow found her way into his life and his heart.

Though he longed to hold her close, to tell her how much he cared, he could not, for the specter of Woodrow stood between them. Instead, Ethan forced a playful tone to his voice. “Perhaps you should pray for the strength to hold a gun.”

He had meant it as a joke, but Abigail nodded solemnly. “I will.”

There was no point in climbing the stairs, for she knew she would not sleep. To Abigail’s surprise and Charlotte’s delight, Jeffrey had returned from the baseball game with them, seemingly unconcerned that his team had lost again. Even more surprisingly, he had suggested he accompany Charlotte and Abigail when they took Puddles for his nightly walk. Abigail demurred, pleading fatigue after her long walk. She was not tired, but Charlotte deserved time alone with her husband, while Abigail needed time to think.

Fearing that the story would upset her sister’s delicate nerves, she had not told Charlotte about the snake, but she could think of little else. Her fears, her prayers, the blood, Ethan’s assertion that guns could save lives. They were all jumbled together, blended with the memory of Ethan’s arms wrapped around her as they’d ridden back to the fort.

Abigail closed the back door behind her and walked toward the river, carefully latching the gate so that Puddles would not escape from the yard. Though Charlotte rarely ventured beyond the back gate, Abigail had taken frequent walks to this part of the river, enjoying the solitude. She wouldn’t descend the bank, for it was steep here, but perhaps the sound of water flowing over rocks would soothe her. When she reached the edge of the bank, she sank to the ground. Surely she would be able to make sense of her thoughts here.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the soft murmuring of the river, the occasional squeaking of a ground squirrel, and the faint scent of wildflowers. Even with her eyes closed, she could picture the land, this harsh land that she had once despised but which had somehow captured her heart. It was a land of punishing wind, relentless sun, and poisonous snakes, but it was also a land of almost unimaginable beauty. Abigail knew that when she returned to Vermont, she would leave a part of her heart here. She would miss Wyoming, but even more, she would miss Ethan. Oh, how she would miss him!

She couldn’t say how or when it had happened, but somehow he had become an important part of her life. When she chose her clothing for the day, she wondered whether he would find it attractive. When she took Puddles for a walk, she wondered whether she would encounter Ethan. When she helped Charlotte select menus, she chose foods she knew Ethan enjoyed. She looked forward to his company at meals and to watching him coach his baseball team. Those times were pleasant, but they were nothing compared to the way she had felt today when he’d held her in his arms.

Leaning back against him as they’d ridden, she had felt safe, she had felt cherished. Never, not even with Woodrow, had she felt as if she were the center of a man’s universe, and yet that was how Ethan had made her feel. When they’d spoken of the snake and Luke, she had known that nothing was more important to Ethan than comforting her. Perhaps it was only because Ethan was a soldier, trained to protect others, that he had treated her that way. Whatever the reason, those few minutes had been truly unforgettable.

Ethan was unforgettable. But in a few months, he would be nothing more than a memory. Abigail covered her face with her hands, trying not to weep.

Ethan looked around the room, wondering if he should bother undressing and going to bed. He doubted he’d be able to sleep, for memories of the day’s events continued to circle through his mind. Good and bad; fear and pleasure. They mingled as they swirled in his brain.

First had come the fear, sharper than the blade of a knife, spearing through him the moment he saw the rattler. He doubted he would ever forget the sheer terror of realizing that Abigail faced possible death. All of his senses had been heightened, leaving him intensely aware of his surroundings at the same time that he focused on the snake’s head, knowing that he had only one chance to save Abigail.

And then, when the danger was ended, fear had been replaced by another, gentler yet equally powerful emotion. Perhaps the fear had sensitized him, increasing his awareness of Abigail as a woman. Perhaps. All Ethan knew was that when he had held her in his arms, he felt more than relief that she was safe. The cold fear that had led him to her had disappeared, replaced by an unfamiliar warmth. It had felt so good, so right, to have his arms around her that he had not wanted to let her go. Ever. And that was frightening in itself, for he had never before felt that way.

Ethan tugged off his boots and set them carefully beside the bed. They needed polishing, but he would do that in the morning. Tonight he wanted nothing to distract him as he tried to understand what had happened. It had been an extraordinary day, a day in which everything had been turned topsy-turvy, most of all, his heart. All because of Abigail.

No one had ever touched his heart the way she did. When he’d seen her in danger, Ethan had wanted to save her, but even more, he had wanted to be the one who would keep her safe, not just for today but forever. The feeling was so unfamiliar that he was unable to give it a name. It might be love—Oliver would probably claim it was—but Ethan wasn’t certain. Nothing in his life had prepared him for love. For him love had been no more than a word, an abstract concept, and that left him no way to recognize it. All he knew was that whatever he felt for Abigail felt right, and at the same time, the enormity of it frightened him.

Though he had doubted it possible, eventually Ethan drifted to sleep, and when he did, he began to dream. At first the dreams were inchoate, mere fragments, but then he saw them. The man stood in the corner of the garden, his face partially hidden by the branches of the spreading oak tree. He was trying not to attract attention. Somehow Ethan knew that, just as he knew that the man was waiting for a woman. Hours passed, or perhaps it was simply a few minutes. Ethan didn’t know, and, in the manner of dreams, it didn’t matter.

At last the back door opened, and a dark-clad figure slipped from the house. Though the cloak hid her features, Ethan knew it was a woman who ran silently across the grass, her eagerness to reach the man evidenced by her speed. As she approached the tree, the man stepped forward, opening his arms in welcome, and the woman raced into them. For a moment, there was no sound, and then Ethan heard soft laughter. The couple smiled at each other, their happiness bubbling out like water from a spring.

As the cloud that had obscured the moon shifted, illuminating their faces, warmth filled Ethan’s heart. These were not strangers. The man whose nose and chin so closely resembled his own must be his father, and there was no doubt of the woman’s identity, for her face was that of the portrait he had found in the back of his grandfather’s attic. These were Ethan’s parents, and despite Grandfather’s claims to the contrary, they were happy and in love.

In his sleep, Ethan turned to his side, and as he did, the dream continued. The couple remained sheltered under the tree, but their faces began to change, softening, blurring, then reforming. When the moon once again revealed them, Ethan gasped, for the couple who gazed at each other with such obvious devotion bore his face and Abigail’s. It was right. Yes, it was right.

As he bent his head, intending to kiss her, she smiled sweetly and raised her lips to his. But before they could touch, the dream changed again. Ethan was alone in the garden, and the wind began to blow, the sound of tree branches rubbing against each other filling the air. His smile faded with the realization that he had lost Abigail. The house where they had been headed, the house he knew instinctively was their home, had vanished. All that was left was an empty yard and the sound of tree branches. And yet, how could that be, for the trees were gone?

Ethan woke with a start and reached for his pistol as he realized that what he had heard were claws scratching on wood. An animal had gotten into the BOQ. Alarm turned to relief as the scratching continued, accompanied by a familiar whimpering.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan demanded when he opened the door and Puddles raced in, running in circles around him, yipping with glee. The dog was supposed to sleep indoors, confined to a crate. How had he gotten out? A quick glance down the hallway explained how Puddles had been able to enter the BOQ. The wind had blown the door ajar, leaving enough space for an eager puppy to slide inside.

Though he couldn’t help smiling at the dog’s ingenuity, Ethan pasted a frown on his face as he said, “You don’t belong here. C’mon. I’m going to take you home.” But Puddles had other ideas, for he ran under the bed and refused to come out. As Ethan pulled on his uniform, he went from smiling to chuckling. Hadn’t he warned Abigail that the tiny puppy she had thought so adorable would be a handful? “Sorry, boy,” he said as he reached under the bed and grabbed the dog. “There are two lovely ladies who will worry if you’re not home when they waken.”

Suspecting that Puddles would not follow docilely, even if he found another leash for him, Ethan picked the dog up and carried him outside. When he reached the Crowley residence, he discovered the back door ajar and Puddles’s crate overturned. Apparently the dog had grown too large for his bed and had been able to open it. Though there was no point in confining him to the crate again, Ethan was resolved that Puddles would not escape from the house a second time. Just before he closed the door firmly, he pointed his finger at the dog. “Stay,” he said sternly. “Abigail’s here.”