Still, when Robbie found out, they’d need to leave quickly. Maybe they could get rooms in town, at least temporarily, and wait until Robbie delivered. Even then, how long would it be before she could travel to Feeble Creek? And would she even want to return there?

  Libby sighed and smoothed down her dress, then clasped her hands together and took deep breaths. If it was Taron, Robbie needed to know!

  But if she was wrong ... She propped her elbow on her knees and cupped her chin in her palm. Could it have been Ander? Perhaps he said, “I’ve missed you while I was gone. Taron’s wife is no problem. I’m so glad to be home.

  If so, why did Anita run out to greet Taron? As a ruse? So no one would know she and Ander were together?

  She sat up straight when a rider came into sight between the house and the river. She stood to get a better look. She’d watched him often enough to know exactly who it was — Taron. Her heart sank. Sylvia Lindsey had a stroke of good luck being jilted by him.

  But poor Robbie! No need to put it off. Father always said to get difficult things out of the way as quickly as possible, but she lingered for a moment, watching the rider until he was out of sight.

  Her eyes stung with tears. She’d miss Taron. He’d been nothing but kind to her since she’d met him — no matter if he was the son of a bucket head!

  She sighed and made herself move. No time like the present.

  Libby knocked on Robbie’s door and went in when Robbie called for her to enter.

  Robbie had been lying down and swung her legs off the bed and sat up, smiling. “Libby! I’m glad you woke me — I’d only planned to lie down for a minute and dozed off.”

  Libby rushed to her side and took a seat beside her without an invitation, grasping Robbie’s hands in hers but not speaking.

  Robbie’s eyes widened and she frowned. “Something has happened. What is it?”

  Libby swallowed hard and finally spoke. “I heard someone talking in one of the rooms downstairs.”

  Robbie puckered her forehead. “Where my office is located?”

  “No, no, in the other wing where the rooms are unoccupied. It was Anita and ... a man.”

  “Should we be concerned if she has a gentleman caller?” She pulled her hands loose, and her gaze swept over Libby’s face as if probing for a meaning.

  “Well, I guess normally you wouldn’t be concerned, I mean, unless there are rules for how or where she entertains them?” That was not what she’d meant to say. It was so difficult to actually tell Robbie. The lump in her throat made it more difficult.

  Robbie studied her and then spoke. “I’ll talk to Taron when he returns. Unless there’s something else?”

  Libby bit her lip. She had to speak the words. “Normally, I would not have mentioned this ... but the man was Taron.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them when no sound came from Robbie.

  Robbie’s expression had twisted into a grimace, and she stood, facing Libby. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Libby took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “I believe Anita and Taron are being ... are having ... are —”

  Robbie placed her hand to her chest. “You believe my husband is being unfaithful?”

  “Yes,” she croaked. Unable to hold Robbie’s gaze, she dropped her own to her hands.

  All was silent for a few moments and then laughter rang out. Startled, Libby jerked her head up.

  Robbie’s eyes twinkled. “You are joking?”

  Libby shook her head, tears forming despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.

  Robbie’s smile did not slip away. “You’re mistaken. Taron’s away with Ander and the rest of the men, as you well know. It certainly could not have been him.”

  Libby hadn’t expected this reaction from Robbie, and heat rose to her cheeks. “There’s more.”

  “Yes?”

  “I saw Taron riding away afterward.”

  “From your window?”

  “Yes.”

  “How far away?”

  “Between the house and the river.”

  “Surely that’s too far to identify someone?”

  “I’ve seen Taron riding, many times when we traveled here.”

  “It could have been Ander. They look much alike.”

  “No. Ander rides more stiffly.”

  “It seems you’re very observant.” Robbie’s voice was cool.

  “Not more so than anyone else.”

  “Then you could be mistaken.”

  Libby gave in. “Perhaps. Robbie, I don’t think I was. It looked like Taron.”

  Robbie shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll speak to him, as I said, when he returns.” Her eyes radiated a strength Libby had never seen before.

  Libby nodded. “I’m sure if we confronted Anita and asked who it was, she’d simply deny it ever happened?”

  “I agree. I will ask Taron when he returns.” Her posture became as rigid as if her spine had become a rod of iron.

  Libby nodded but remained sitting on the bed, deep in thought. Could she be wrong? Could it have been Ander? She wished it so! But no matter how hard she wished, she knew it had been Taron. Only Taron rode a horse like that.

  She sighed deeply. She had no need to dwell on it. She’d done what was right and now there was nothing more to do.

  Aware that Robbie still observed her, she stood and smoothed her skirt. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  “You have no need to apologize. I have much work left to do and need to get downstairs.”

  Libby, in an effort to smooth over the awkwardness, asked her, “What do you have left to do? You’ve been working like a fiend!”

  “As they say, the devil’s work is never done.”

  “Devil? I’ve always heard ‘a woman’s work.’ Isn’t it?”

  “Woman, devil ... it depends on my mood.” She laughed harshly.

  Libby uneasily joined her laughter and followed her downstairs.

  Chapter Seven

  Taron and Ander had not given a definite time for their return, only that they’d be gone perhaps two weeks and possibly longer. It all depended on complications that might arise. Libby was determined to stay alert at all times for she planned to flee the house as soon as the two men arrived home.

  She did not want to be present in the house, as large as it was, when Robbie spoke to Taron. If Taron convinced Robbie it had not been him, their anger would turn on her. She probably should pack her bags and head home to Father before he returned. However, she knew that was the coward’s way out. She could not leave until this situation was resolved, one way or another.

  And besides, Robbie had shaken her surety. Could she have mistaken Ander for his brother? But why would Ander and Anita be secretive? Neither was married, and if they loved each other, why didn’t they simply marry? Could it be Ander was a snob? That he wouldn’t marry a mere housekeeper? Libby couldn’t imagine Anita tolerating that attitude.

  Regardless, she wanted to stay out of the house until the situation was resolved. With both Robbie and Anita’s permission, she gathered up a few things to have ready — a picnic basket, a blanket, and a book to read.

  In her explorations, she had found a library overflowing with books and had shown it to Robbie. She and Robbie both were overjoyed at the treasure they’d found, and for a moment, the rift between them was forgotten. It had been difficult to choose a book from shelf after shelf, but Libby finally settled on one she’d read before, Don Quixote. If she’d not thought it rude, she’d taken four or five.

  Robbie had urged her to take as many as she wanted, but Libby could not bring herself to do so. If George Harrington told the truth, this library was Ander’s — unless the house was somehow separate from the ranch?

  But Ander had been the one to take charge of where the infirmary was to go. He acted as if he was the one entirely in charge of both the house and the ranch. Robbie had seemed oblivious to it — another strike against Taron. Either he deliberately lied to Robbie, or ... maybe, he had an arrangement with his brother Libby was unaware of. How she wished she’d questioned George Harrington when she had the chance.

  How had Ander taken control of the entire ranch? Could he have tricked Taron in some way? And what had happened to their parents? Hadn’t Taron mentioned an uncle ... no, an aunt? What happened to her?

  A sigh rose from deep within her. Idle hands, and an idle mind, were the devil’s workshop, her father had always said. She had too much time on her hands, too much time to think. She couldn’t spend all her time staring out the windows, waiting for the men to return, and thinking the same thoughts over and over.

  Anita had declined her offer of help, and besides, with the men away, meals were simple and each of the women was self-sufficient. Pouring over medical tomes took up much of Robbie’s time, leaving Libby to search for something to occupy her. Luckily she had her sketchbook and a houseful of beautiful art.

  The sculptures drew her attention with their meticulous detail. Taron had said Ander carved the railing. Could he also be the one responsible for the carved figures?

  Most were of cowboys, some standing, some on horses. A few were of Indians, and again, some were on horseback. The ones that attracted her the most were those of animals. Horses, dogs, deer, bears, and, her favorite, long-horn cows were all represented.

  Ander was young, surely still in his twenties. How had he produced so much meticulous work? Each piece had to have taken weeks, perhaps months.

  But, according to Taron, Ander had carved the rail on the stairs at ten. Maybe he’d started carving these at an even younger age. If so, he had been a child prodigy — the railing alone proved that.

  Then again, maybe other family members had done these. Hadn’t Taron said their father made furniture, too? Perhaps his father made the furniture and his aunt did the carvings. Maybe she’d taught Ander.

  So many questions! She got her sketchbook, opened it, and lost herself in her attempts to reproduce on paper what had been carved.

  By the time the men returned from working the calves, Libby had almost filled her sketchbook, both front and back pages. She hurried to the kitchen to grab a canteen and fill it with water. Pecans and beef jerky had already been stashed away in the basket, along with the other things she needed.

  As Taron and Ander entered the front door, she slipped out the side door and headed down to the river. Spreading her blanket under one of the largest weeping willow trees, she figured no one could find her if they wanted to. And who would look for her anyway?

  She made herself cozy and opened her book to read, soon chuckling out loud. The long branches sweeping the ground not only concealed her but also concealed from her what lay beyond.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked a voice.

  She startled and struggled to sit. Ander parted the branches and watched her, his forehead puckered. A rifle was held loosely in his hands, and when she glanced at him, he laid it across his shoulders and looked away, as if he needed a moment to compose himself.

  “I came out to read. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed a book from your library.”

  “That’s what they’re there for. Please help yourself.” He still stared off in the distance although Libby knew he could only be looking at the greenery of the willow branches, as thick as they were.

  “Thank you.”

  He finally glanced at her. “It’s getting late, almost suppertime.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.” She glanced down at her book and saw she was on page 145. Carefully, she placed a marker and snapped the book shut. “Actually, I didn’t plan on eating supper tonight. I brought some pecans with me, and they’ve filled me up.” Should she thank him for those, too? Technically, they belonged to him.

  His gaze traveled over the blanket to stop at her sketchbook. “Do you draw?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. For an artist like him to see her feeble attempts made her hands shake. But before she could stop him, he laid his rifle down and picked up the sketchbook. “May I join you?”

  She found herself nodding. He dropped to the blanket, crossing his legs beneath him, holding her book but not opening it.

  He cast her a sideways glance. “Do you mind if I have a look?”

  Yes, she minded, but something in his countenance made her say, “No, not at all.”

  She watched his face carefully, for any sign of disapproval as he studied her sketches. However, his brow remained smooth, and a few times his face lit up. When he’d finished, he nodded. “Quite nice. You’re very talented.”

  “That’s quite a compliment coming from you.”

  “From me?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “Taron told me you’d carved the rail. I assume you did some of the figures also?”

  His eyes were quizzical and green as he turned his head to meet her gaze. “Yes. That’s part of my work. Most of the sculptures were done by me, some by my father, and some by my aunt.”

  “Your father and aunt are no longer living?”

  “No. They’re both dead, killed in an accident. My mother is still alive though. She’s back east.”

  “Oh? And she didn’t know you and Taron were in jail?” Why hadn’t she come to help them or at least to see them?

  “No, and I don’t want her to ever know. It would break her heart.” His face saddened. “That’s why she left. Her heart has been broken so many times.”

  “By who?” The words left her mouth before she had time to reflect on what she asked.

  Ander studied her for a second, as if deciding on whether to answer. Finally, he spoke. “By Taron.” His gaze dropped to his hands, to the sketchbook he still held.

  Chapter Eight

  Libby was too shocked to speak. Was he telling the truth?

  When she remained quiet, Ander glanced up at her. “I’m sorry. I should not be sharing our family problems.”

  Libby placed a hand on his arm. “Sometimes we need someone to talk to. I promise you this will go no further. I’m good at keeping secrets.” She had to know what he meant.

  For some reason, he smiled at this and nodded. “I suppose you’d make a good confidante. I haven’t had anyone to talk to for so long, I may have forgotten how and don’t know if I should ... discuss family, that is.”

  She nodded. “I understand. We don’t want to air our dirty laundry, but we all need help. The Bible teaches us to confide in each other so that we can strengthen our brothers and sisters.”

  “The Bible might teach that, but it’s something we seldom do, especially men.” His eyes clouded over.

  “That’s true. Women are more likely to confide in each other.”

  “Robbie then may have told you?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re going to tell me, so I can’t say.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

  After searching her eyes for a moment, he spoke. “My brother has a gambling problem. When my father and aunt were both killed, in a carriage accident, the ranch went directly to Taron, not my mother, as it should have. My father’s will left everything to Taron.” He sighed deeply and glanced at her through his lashes. “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”

  She was dying to hear it, but she composed her voice, hoping she came across in a calm, compassionate manner. “Certainly, if you want to tell me ... As I said, talking out our problems is often helpful.”

  He nodded and continued. “Not long after my father’s death, within a year or so, we were on the verge of bankruptcy. Fortunately, my mother had assets of her own. She bought the ranch from Taron and paid his debts, leaving her almost penniless ... and I pitched in, too, every penny I had.”

  Libby was shocked but tried not to show it. That explained why he’d not had the money to pay for a better lawyer. “And then your mother moved back east?”

  “Not long after that. First, she deeded the ranch to me. I made a huge mistake when I allowed Taron to stay on as a ranch hand. Without my permission, he took our best horses north to sell. I followed him when I discovered what he’d done, leaving George in charge.”

  He fell silent, and Libby processed all he’d told her. Taron, so kind and thoughtful! So supportive of Robbie! And treating his mother and his brother as he had done.

  Ander glanced at her again and smiled wryly. “This is probably hard for you to believe. Most women succumb to his charms.” He fell silent and looked away.

  “Well, yes, he seems very nice. I would never have suspected he had a gambling problem.”

  “Even our neighbor’s daughter, Sylvia Lindsey, fell in love with him.”

  “And Taron became engaged to her?”

  He tilted his head toward her. “No. Taron never agreed to an engagement, but he led her on. And I think he genuinely liked her. She’s a beautiful woman and, more importantly, a kind one.”

  His voice sounded wistful, and Libby almost asked him why he hadn’t married her himself but stopped in time. It sounded as if Sylvia probably broke Ander’s heart, choosing his brother over him.

  Ander pointed to the picnic basket. “Do you have anything to drink in there?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I should have already offered you something. It’s only water. If you’re hungry, I might have a few pecans left.”

  “The water’s fine. I’m not hungry.” She offered him the canteen, and he took a swig, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyway, I went after Taron. By the time I found him at Feeble Creek, he’d been in a poker game with Edward Stewart and lost our best horses.”

  Libby gasped, and Ander turned his gaze to her and smiled sadly. “Yes, it was a shock to me, too. I was able to secure a loan and bought the horses back. However, Stewart’s father wasn’t too happy about it — he insisted on keeping the horses and the money. A scuffle broke out, and I took a bullet to the leg.”

  Libby put a hand to her chest. “I never knew! How could I not know you were wounded?”

 

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