Kitabı oku: «The Christmas Journey», sayfa 3

Chapter Five

Scout had quit struggling, but his muscles quivered with each labored breath. It was obvious the animal’s injuries were irreparable, his time left extremely painful. Jo felt the hot tears come as she knelt to stroke the horse’s neck.

The horse she’d raised from a colt gazed at her with pain-filled eyes as she gently finger combed the tangles from his mane.

Heavenly Father, help me through this ’cause I don’t think I can do it on my own.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. With a final pat, Jo wiped her eyes, stood and aimed the rifle.

A heartbeat later, it was over. She lowered the gun, still holding it with both hands. The weight seemed almost more than she could bear.

But mourning was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now—time to refocus on the needs of the living. She paused by Mr. Lassiter’s side long enough to assure herself he was still breathing, then, steeling her nerve, Jo limped over to where Clete lay. Doing her best to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she rolled the body over. A quick look was all it took. The beefy outlaw was quite dead.

Everything had happened so fast when she charged into the meadow. She hadn’t aimed, just fired, trying to draw attention from Mr. Lassiter. Could one of her bullets have done this?

That thought broke the last thread of her control and she found herself on all fours, heaving.

It was several minutes before she could straighten back up.

Determined to be practical, Jo averted her gaze from Clete’s unseeing stare and pulled out her pocketknife again. Making quick work of it, she cut large strips from his shirt. It felt like grave robbing, but it wasn’t as if Clete had any more use for the shirt, and it was a sure bet she’d need additional bandages for Mr. Lassiter before this was over. And with evening coming on she couldn’t afford to sacrifice any more of their own clothing.

She wadded up the swaths of cloth, then retrieved the dead man’s rifle, using it to ease herself back up with a groan. Yep, she’d be feeling the effects of that fall for several days.

Playing a hunch, she studied the wooded area where Clete and Otis had hidden earlier. Catching a glimpse of movement, she gave a satisfied smile. Sure enough, a few minutes later she found Clete’s horse, tethered to a low branch just inside the wood.

Thank goodness Otis hadn’t bothered to take the animal with him. With Licorice halfway back to Knotty Pine and Scout dead, this horse would give them some much needed options.

Once she had the mare tethered near the stream, Jo returned to Mr. Lassiter’s side, wiping his face with a damp cloth. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could think to do at the moment. His breathing seemed stronger, but he was still unconscious and pale as moonlight.

She hated feeling so all-fired useless. He needed more than puny old wet cloths. He needed a doctor, and the sooner the better. But all she could do for now was make him as comfortable as possible.

Jo rubbed her calf, trying to ease a bit of the throbbing. Too bad there wasn’t anyone here to see to her comfort.

Oh, well, like it or not, being the one to do the looking after had become her lot in life.

With a sigh, she stood and began gathering wood to make a fire, one that would not only ward off the coming chill of evening but would also create lots of smoke.

Whenever the search party came looking—she refused to believe that wouldn’t happen soon—she wanted to make finding them as easy as possible.

Ry stirred, then grimaced. His head throbbed as if a judge were pounding a gavel in his skull, and there seemed to be a branding iron pressed into his shoulder. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, then fisted his hands against the pain that shot through his leg. Thunderation! It felt like he’d been mule kicked.

Was that grass under his hand? Had his horse thrown him? He couldn’t think straight—his mind felt thick as sludge. He tried opening his eyes, but only managed slits.

Then the memory of what had happened came stampeding back and his heart slammed in his chest as he struggled to get up. He had to make sure Scarcheek didn’t get to Miss Wylie—

“Whoa there.” A hand pressed him gently but firmly down.

Relief surged through him. That had been her voice. She was okay. Thank You, Lord!

But where was Scarcheek? He renewed his efforts to get up. “My gun!” Was that croak really his voice? “Where—”

She cut off his words by pressing him down again, this time wiping his brow with a damp cloth.

“Easy. No need to get stirred up. We’re in the clear now.”

Had his last desperate shot found its mark? If only he could remember…

As if reading his mind she answered his unvoiced questions. “Clete won’t be bothering anyone—not ever again. And Otis is long gone. High-tailed it out of here, bleeding like a stuck pig, as soon as he saw you fall.”

Realizing he’d obviously blacked out, leaving her to deal with a hornet’s nest on her own, he wanted to howl in frustration and self-disgust. How long had he been unconscious?

Whatever had happened, it was a good thing the gun-wielding outlaw was gone. He couldn’t even sit up right now, much less fight off anything more threatening than a gnat.

He studied Miss Wylie, looking for signs of injury. “What about you? Your horse fell—”

“Got bruised up a mite, nothing serious.”

Her tone was light but the strain in her expression told a different story. Was she hurt worse than—

The memory of Scarcheek’s threat suddenly slammed back into him. He grabbed her wrist. “Did he touch you? So help me, if he did there’s no place far enough—”

“Whoa there, hero.” Her smile was more genuine this time. “Otis never laid a hand on me. Thanks entirely to you.”

Hero—hah! Ry suppressed a groan at her attempt to make him feel better. Still, he couldn’t help but admire her courage and fortitude.

This woman was unlike any he’d ever met. How could she find something to smile about after all she’d just been through? Most women he knew would be hysterical, would be looking for him to comfort them.

Aware that he was still squeezing her wrist, he released her and leaned back. He realized there was a bandage on his head and another on his otherwise bare arm.

A woman of many talents, it seemed, and one who didn’t let squeamishness get in the way of doing what had to be done.

She reached beside her and lifted a canteen. “How about a drink of water?”

At his nod she rested the canteen on his chest then twisted around, reaching for something he couldn’t quite see. “First, let’s try to get you propped up a bit.”

A second later he realized she was maneuvering a saddle into place behind him.

“Easy now.” She slipped a hand under his neck, supporting him while she nudged the makeshift prop under his shoulders. She was surprisingly strong. No doubt due to her work at the livery. Funny how nice those callused hands felt against his skin.

He tried to keep the wince from his expression as the movements dug the branding iron deeper into his shoulder. He wasn’t going to add to her already piled-high worries.

“There now,” she eased him back, “how does that feel?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Good.” She held the canteen to his lips, once more supporting his neck. The water tasted heavenly and felt even better going down. The liquid smoothed away the sawdust lining his mouth and throat. He couldn’t get enough of it, as if he were a parched bit of earth that hadn’t seen rain in months.

“Easy now,” she repeated, a touch of humor in her voice, “There’s a whole stream of this stuff over yonder so there’s no need to worry we’ll run out before you’re quenched.”

Her teasing surprised an answering grin from him. “Are you maligning my table manners, Miss Wylie?”

She shrugged, her expression bland. “Not me. I’m used to being around animals that drink from troughs, remember?”

Ry chuckled at her unexpected dry humor. At least the day’s events hadn’t robbed her of her spirit.

“And there’s no need to be so formal, especially considering the fix we’re in. Just call me Jo.”

He hesitated, not wanting to offend her, but not certain he wanted to comply. The use of Miss Wylie had been a deliberate effort to make up for his having mistaken her for a man, even if she wasn’t aware of his gaffe. Calling her Jo, a man’s name, just didn’t sit right with him after so ungentlemanly a blunder. But she didn’t seem like a Josephine either. “What if I call you Josie instead?”

A flash of surprise crossed her features. But her only response was an offhand “I reckon that’ll do.”

“And of course you can call me Ry.”

With a nod, she raised the canteen to his lips again. He took care to drink more slowly this time, taking the opportunity to look around. She’d built a fire while he was out, one that was emitting enough smoke to cure a side of bacon. A second saddle lay on the ground next to him and what looked to be the rest of the tack and gear from two horses was placed in neat piles nearby.

A whicker drew his gaze toward the stream. A horse stood tethered there. Not the horse she’d charged in on and certainly not Scout. How in the world had she managed to find another mount out here?

Then he spied what was unmistakably a body covered by a couple of horse blankets.

His gaze shot back to her.

Her smile was gone and her jaw tightened. “It’s Clete,” she said. “I thought covering him up was the decent thing to do.”

Ry leaned back against the saddle, glad for its support.

Her fingers fiddled with the cap of the now empty canteen. “I didn’t see him go down. I don’t know which one of us—”

“It was my shot,” he said quickly, realizing what she feared.

“Oh.” She searched his face for a moment, then the tension in her eased. She stood and waggled the canteen. “Better refill this.”

Ry shifted again, chafing at his weakened condition as he watched her limp toward the stream. She was hurt, yet she hadn’t spoken a word of complaint. How long had she been sitting there, wondering if she’d been responsible for taking a man’s life?

His opinion of her character rose another notch.

“How long was I out?”

“About thirty minutes or so,” she called back over her shoulder. “Had me worried for a while.”

Again, her light tone didn’t quite cover the underlying strain. He knew it wasn’t all due to the physical pain and exhaustion she must be feeling. The emotional turmoil she’d been through had taken its toll as well.

She paused to check on the horse before stooping with some difficulty at the stream to refill the canteen. Her action reminded him of what had happened to Scout. Had the animal died of its wounds, or had she been forced to deal with that, as well?

Either way, he had a lot to make up for. Starting now.

“Only thirty minutes, huh?” he said as she returned. “It appears you made good use of the time.”

She shrugged. “I’m used to keeping busy.”

That he could believe. “Well, you’ve set up a tight little camp here.” Pulling on every ounce of strength he had, Ry propped himself up on one elbow. “I ought to be comfortable enough while you head back to town.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Take that horse and ride to town. You can send a wagon back for me. There’s no point in us both just sitting here hoping someone will come along.”

“Uh-uh. Whether we like it or not, we’re in this together. I’m not leaving here without you, not after all the trouble I went through to save your hide.”

“And you can finish the job by sending a wagon back for me.”

“What if Otis comes back?”

Exactly. He had to make certain she was well out of harm’s way. “Look, Josie, you said yourself Otis was long gone. Besides, I’m not hurt so bad that I can’t hold my own for the time it’ll take you to get to town and send help back. Just leave me one of those rifles and I’ll be fine.”

She snorted. “Fine my left foot.” Thrusting a rifle at him, she walked off, positioning herself several yards behind him. “Okay, hero, I’m Otis. Defend yourself.”

Ry struggled to sit up and at the same time swivel his body to face her. He failed miserably. On both counts.

“Might as well quit trying.” The edge of irritation in her voice exacerbated the ache in his head. “If I was Otis you’d already be dead. And that’s with lots of warning to boot.”

She stood over him, glaring. “Hang it all, Mister, there’s no shame in admitting you’re hurt. It’s just plain selfish, too—making more work for me. Look at you. All that tomfool twisting and turning set your arm to bleeding again. At this rate we’re going to run out of bandages before we can get you to the doc.”

Even if he’d had the energy to take offense, Ry knew she was right. For a moment he didn’t even have the breath to speak.

He flopped back with a thud that amplified the pounding in his head. It was getting colder too. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that wracked his body.

Josie removed the rifle from his grasp, her brow furrowing. “How are you feeling?”

“Thoroughly useless.”

She patted his hand, as if he were some wet-behind-the-ears kid who needed comforting. “Sorry I lit into you that way—ain’t your fault you don’t like being stove up. My ma used to say that trying times were God’s way of keeping us humble and reminding us to look to Him for our strength.”

She leaned back. “Just think of it as taking a bit of time off from all that rushing around you’ve been doing.”

Belle! Hang it all, with everything that had happened he’d forgotten all about her cry for help. If only she hadn’t been so cryptic about what she needed from him.

“Can’t afford to take time off right now.” He shivered again. So cold. So tired. “Belle needs me.”

He closed his eyes to keep the spinning sky from drawing him into the maelstrom.

Belle. Josie. Different as night and day. In fact, the only thing they had in common was that they were facing big troubles.

And he was powerless to lift a finger to help either of them.

Chapter Six

Who was Belle?

Jo tried to ignore her curiosity and concentrate instead on keeping Mr. Lassiter from passing out.

His eyes drifted closed again and she chewed on her lip. How serious were his injuries?

“Come on, Mister—Ry—try to stay awake. Just until help comes. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Sorry. Feeling drowsy.”

“Talk to me. Where you traveling from?”

“Philadelphia.”

“Hah! I knew you weren’t a rancher.”

That got a reaction from him. “Not calling me a liar, are you? I said I was raised on a ranch. My family’s still there.”

“But not you.”

“My grandfather lives in Philadelphia. I stayed with him while I went to law school.”

“So which do you call home, the ranch or Philadelphia?”

His face creased in annoyance. “Too many questions.”

She tried another tack. “So why were you in such an all-fired hurry to reach Foxberry?”

“Still am. Supposed to meet someone there, someone who asked for help.”

“You came all the way from Philadelphia to answer a call for help? Must be an awfully good friend.”

“She is.”

She? Was it this Belle woman he’d mentioned?

He lifted a hand, then let it drop. “Sounded urgent. Hadn’t heard from her in years. She must be desperate.”

He shifted again and winced. “What makes you so sure help is coming?”

Jo threw another stick on the fire. “Whenever Licorice gets spooked she heads straight for home. As soon as she shows up without me, Danny’ll put out the alarm.”

“And if she doesn’t get there this time?”

“My sister’s the worrying type. By now she’s started hounding the sheriff and won’t let up until he sends someone out to look.” If only she hadn’t told Danny she might be late. No point worrying him with that little bit of information though. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get you to a doctor soon enough.”

“Not worried. Just thinking we should make use of that horse.”

“We already talked about that. I’m not leaving you here alone.” She tugged on her ear. “I could try making a litter I guess. We have most of the materials—the bedroll, rope, leather from the bridle.” She glanced toward the shrouded body and shivered. “I could even use the horse blankets if we needed ’em. Just have to try to cut a few saplings for the poles—”

“Or we could ride double.”

She studied him. “Do you think you could mount up?”

His mouth tightened. “I might need a hand, but I could do it.”

“I don’t know if we should put you to the test until we have to. There’s still time for help to get here before dark.”

His jaw clinched and she could tell he wasn’t happy with what he was about to say. “Look, I’ll be honest. Right now I believe I have the strength to do this, with your help. But I’m not sure how long that’ll last.” He stared at her with fiercely determined eyes. “So if we’re going to mount up, it had better be soon.”

Jo glanced toward the trail from town. No sign of help. The temperature had already started dropping and it’d be dusk soon.

She also didn’t care much for the flushed look of his face. If he developed a fever things could go from bad to worse in a hurry. He was right. Time to fish or cut bait.

The thing was, she wasn’t just worried about getting him up on the horse, though that was going to take more than a bit of effort. Was he really up to the long ride back to Knotty Pine? He’d admitted his strength was fading. His wound could start bleeding again, or worse, he could fall off. If that happened they’d be worse off than before.

What a pickle!

Jo drew her shoulders back. Better to leave the hand wringing to Cora Beth. It wasn’t a great choice but it was the only one they had. The last thing she needed was to be caught out here after dark, with Otis roaming around somewhere.

“Okay, let’s give it a shot. You conserve what strength you have while I put out the fire and get the horse ready.”

He nodded.

“Just try to stay awake.” Grabbing the fallen branch she’d been using as a makeshift cane, Jo levered herself up. She’d probably be sore for the next few days but she’d put up with worse aches before. And it wasn’t anything like what Mr. Lassiter was dealing with.

She still had trouble thinking of him as just Ry. Funny thing how he’d insisted on addressing her as Josie instead of Jo. No one had called her that before. Ma had always used her given name of Josephine, and her nieces called her Aunt JoJo. But to everyone else she was just plain Jo.

Josie. Kind of had a nice ring to it. Not too frilly or fancy sounding, but definitely recognizable as a girl’s name.

The thought struck her then that she would finally have a story of her own to add to her journal. Not that this was the way she’d wanted it to happen, but it was an adventure just the same.

Heavenly Father, I know I’ve been praying for an adventure and now that I’ve found myself smack-dab in the middle of a humdinger of one it don’t seem quite right for me to be asking You to end it so soon. But I guess that’s what I’m doing.

Mr. Lassiter don’t deserve to suffer just ’cause I want some excitement. Especially since he pushed himself so hard to save me. So please, whatever it takes, keep him safe.

Ry roused to the feel of a damp cloth on his forehead.

He opened his eyes to see Josie staring down at him, her face creased in worry.

“You sure you want to try this? We can always wait a little longer for help to come.”

“I’m all right. Just resting.”

Doubt flashed in her eyes at his obvious fib.

“Let’s see if you can sit up first,” she temporized.

Determined to reassure her, Ry steeled himself and pushed up with his good arm, doing his best to ignore the spinning sensation. He gritted his teeth, chafing at this unaccustomed feebleness. If he hadn’t had her hand at his back he might not have made it.

After a moment he felt steady again and took his bearings. He must have been out for more than the few seconds he’d thought. She’d managed to douse the fire without him even noticing.

“First we’re going to put that arm of yours in a sling and secure it against your chest so we can keep from jarring it as much as possible. Won’t do to have you bleeding to death on me.”

Where had she found those strips of cloth? His eyes flashed to the blanket-covered body in sudden understanding. The woman not only had gumption but she was cannily resourceful.

“That was a mighty vicious kick Otis gave you,” she said, bringing his gaze back around. “You sure you can stand okay?”

That explained why his thigh hurt so bad. “I’ll manage.”

“Have you ever ridden bareback before?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. ’Cause I figure that’s our best chance of getting the two of us on that animal.

Made sense. Riding double with a saddle was not a comfortable proposition.

“Problem is, without stirrups we need a mounting block. There’s a fallen tree over where I’ve tethered the horse. If you use me as a crutch, can you make it?”

He eyed the distance separating him from the horse. About ten yards. Might as well have been a mile. “I’ll make it.”

“Good.” She studied her handiwork with the sling. “How does that feel? Not too tight is it?”

“It’s fine.” Enough talk, time for action.

“Okay then. Whenever you’re ready, put your good arm around my neck and I’ll help you up, nice and steady.”

Bracing himself, Ry nodded and did as he was told.

By the time he finally stood upright, he was as winded as a racehorse after a gallop and drenched in sweat.

Josie supported him, not saying a word or clucking over him in useless sympathy. He appreciated her patience and restraint.

He was also determined not to lean on her one jot more than necessary. He just needed her to provide an anchor when the waves of dizziness hit.

He’d be hanged if he’d let any of his injuries stop him. It was imperative that he get her away from here, and it seemed the only way to budge her was to go with her.

Lord, let me make it to that horse without giving this woman more troubles than she’s already had.

He let her lead him across the short patch of ground, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. And on not falling.

When they reached the makeshift mounting block he paused, gathering every bit of energy he still possessed for the effort ahead.

Before he could move, she spoke up. “Now this is going to be the tricky part. I’ll need to ride up front so I can guide the horse. That means I should mount first. Can you support yourself while I do that?”

Ry nodded. It had to be done, so he would do it. He’d always prided himself on his horsemanship—time to give it a real test. Mounting with no stirrups and only one good arm would be tricky under the best of circumstances. Doing it while he was weak as a babe and she was already taking up a good chunk of available space would ratchet it up to a whole new level of difficulty.

He moved his arm from her shoulders to the horse’s back, aware that she kept her hand on him, ready to assist if he should fall.

“Steady now. Once you’re ready I’m going to let go so I can mount up. I’ll help you up after me as much as I can.”

He took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” Almost before he had time to draw a second breath she was up on the horse. She scooted forward then reached down. “I’ll hold the horse as steady as I can. Take my hand so I can help pull you up.

The next few minutes were fragmented splinters of motion. He grabbed hold of her hand, then found himself chest first over the back of the horse, pain clawing through his injured arm and shoulder. The next thing he knew he had somehow gotten his leg over the horse without any memory of doing so, and was maneuvering himself into an upright position.

Which brought him face-to-face with his next dilemma.

“This isn’t the time to worry about niceties,” she said, obviously reading his mind again. “Ain’t no way you’re going to be able to stay on this horse without holding on to me. We’re not budging from here until that arm of yours is around my waist.”

She was right of course. Still, it felt like taking liberties he wasn’t entitled to. “Yes, ma’am.” He eased his right hand around her surprisingly trim waist, but managed to hold himself erect, keeping several inches between his chest and her back.

She set the horse in motion. “I’m going to try to keep a slow, steady pace. This probably won’t be the most comfortable ride you ever took, but it’ll be best if we go straight through without stopping.”

“I agree.” He swallowed an oath as the horse tossed its head before settling into a steady rhythm. “The sooner we get back to town, the better.” He wasn’t certain he could climb back up on this animal if he ever got off of it.

He’d just have to live with the fact that they were headed back to Knotty Pine and not toward Foxberry. For now, Josie’s needs would come before his, and even before Belle’s.

Jo wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet. Getting him up on the horse had only been half the battle. The other half would be keeping him there until they reached town.

The man had a lot of grit, she’d give him that. Not many would have managed to come through that ambush and lived to tell the tale.

She’d been well aware of his efforts to spare her during their walk across the clearing, and again when he’d mounted up.

Even now, with his hand around her waist, she could feel his effort not to lean against her. If she’d had reason to question whether he was an honorable man before, she could set her mind at ease now.

Probably be best to keep him talking so she could gauge how alert he was. Besides, she liked the sound of his voice. “Tell me about that family of yours back on the ranch.”

“I have a brother and a sister, Griff and Sadie.” His voice had slowed and deepened, his Texas drawl coming out. And she could feel the warmth of his breath stir the hair at her nape.

She told herself the shiver that fluttered her shoulders was due to the dropping temperature. “I said tell me about them, not name them.”

“What do you want to know?”

“The usual stuff. Are they older or younger than you? Are they married? What are they like?”

“Both younger—Griff by two years, Sadie by five. Neither is married.”

He paused and she wondered if he would give her any more information.

“Griff takes after Pa—a rancher through and through. Hawk’s Creek is in his blood and you couldn’t pry him away with a crowbar.”

So, was he implying that he himself wasn’t so tied to the land? She could sure relate to that. God had made this world way too big to limit yourself to one little patch of it.

“Sadie’s what you’d call impetuous. She’s a bit on the clumsy side, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She’s as comfortable at a barn raising as she is at a ladies auxiliary tea.”

Sounded like someone she’d get along fine with. “How often do you see them?”

“Two, three times a year.”

It was like wresting a bone from a dog to get any information out of him. Did he hurt too bad to talk? Or did he just not like the questions she was asking? “Tell me about the ranch.”

“Hawk’s Creek? It’s just north of Tyler. Covers about six hundred acres all told. My family raises some of the finest Hereford stock around. Not to mention cutting horses.”

There was an unmistakable touch of pride in his voice. Sounded like he still had a fondness for the place. “So how did you end up going to law school?”

“Long story.”

His voice was getting deeper, his words dragging. She had to keep him alert. “Seems we’ve got nothing but time. Talk to me.”

“My grandfather’s a lawyer and prominent member of Philadelphia society. Mother was his only child.”

He paused and she leaned against him briefly. She could almost see him pull himself back together.

“She was the apple of his eye,” he continued. “He didn’t like it much when she up and married my pa and moved to Texas. Took it even harder when she died without ever moving back.”

“And?” she prodded, placing her hand on top of his at her waist.

“Grandfather always wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. The year I turned sixteen, he asked my father to send one of us boys up to Philadelphia to spend a few months with him. Truth be told, I think Pa felt guilty over having deprived Grandfather of his daughter. Whatever the reason, he agreed.”

“And you volunteered.”

“It was only supposed to be for the summer.”

That sounded almost defensive.

He shifted but his hand never moved from her waist. “When summer was over, Grandfather wanted me to accompany him on a trip to Boston. When we returned he needed help researching a major case. Then he wanted to show me his lodge up in the Adirondacks. The entire fall stretched out that way, one ‘one more thing’ after another, and it was Christmas before I made it home.”

The offhand, almost resentful way he cataloged his travels, as if he’d just taken a not-too-enjoyable walk around the block, flabbergasted her. She’d give her eyeteeth to have such an experience. “Sounds like he went all out to give you a taste of what your mother’s world had been like.”

“I never thought of it that way.” He seemed to ponder on that a moment before he went on. “Anyway, before I left Philadelphia, he asked me to consider returning to attend the university and perhaps enter law school. It was hard to leave because I knew he was lonely and that in a way I was a tie to his daughter.”

“Is that the only reason you went back?” Surely life in a big city like Philadelphia would have spoiled him for something as simple as life on a ranch.

“Things had changed while I was away. Pa relied more on Griff to help run the ranch. Sadie was growing into the lady of the house. Pa spent more time with his work than with the family. Everything appeared to be running smoothly without me.” He shifted slightly. “I just seemed like more of an outsider there than I had at Grandfather’s.”