Chapter Eight

Haven and Charlotte joined the guests at the long table for the pig roast. Haven settled onto a bench beside August and Justine Rux and across from the Brinkerhoffs. August's pallid color was cause for concern, as was the man's chronic cough and wheezing. Justine saw to his every need, ushering a plate of food to him and all but spoon-serving the glass of lemonade she set before him. Occasionally, she'd pull a hankie from her sleeve and wipe her husband's brow, another indication that man wasn't well.

Conversation turned to home towns with Justine revealing they'd left New Ulm twenty-five years ago, a quaint German town in southern Minnesota, and settled in Cobb's Grove. Once they discovered Haven also hailed from southern Minnesota, they became fast friends.

Soon after the meal, Pratt ushered everyone toward the barn, announcing the musicians were already warming up for a night of dancing. Eager to hear music again, Haven made her way to the platform and settled onto a chair near the banjo player. She watched the couples stroll onto a floor dusted with sawdust to take up a waltz, a polka and even the two-step.

Pratt found her minutes later and took up a chair beside her. "I see you met Justin and August at dinner."

"Yes, and the Brinkerhoffs."

"Charlotte feels a kinship with Justine." He paused. "I suppose because of the children."

"I didn't see children arrive with them, and they didn't sit with us."

"Oh, they don't have kids now but at one time had three little girls." He shook his head. "All under the age of ten when the Sioux kidnapped them during the uprising in sixty-two."

A vision of the feeble, elderly man rose. "Do you mean to say they-they died?"

"Unfortunately, yes. When the uprising ended, Sibley's men rounded up the captives, but they girls weren't among them. Someone said the girls were killed fleeing with the hostiles into Dakota Territory. They moved here to start a new life and hopefully forget about the past."

"I don't know, Pratt, does one ever forget about their past?"

"Hey, why the frown? I didn't mean to make you—"

"Think about my own situation?" She nudged him. "I do that without anyone's help." She blew an exasperated breath. "You can't outrun memories; I think I'm discovering that."

"No, you can't but sometimes a new locale gives you a new perspective, allows you to move through the grief without constant reminders."

She pinched her lips and nodded, wishing the tension in her shoulders would abate. "One can always hope." Fearful of falling into the black abyss again, she changed the subject. "August doesn't look well. Is he sick?"

"Lung ailment. I don't expect he'll make it through winter." He made a little tsk-tsk sound. "Charlotte's worried about what will happen to Justine when he goes."

Haven turned and the couple came into her line of vision. "I'll call on them after school starts, once I get my bearings."

"Be prepared to stay a spell. Justine can talk the hind leg off a donkey when she sets her mind to it."

From across the room, Charlotte beckoned Pratt with a wave. "I best go see what she wants."

"Let me know if I can help."

"No, no." He waved her off. "Stay here and enjoy the music."

Emery and Cade came into focus as she followed Pratt's retreating back. Both men glanced her way once or twice, leaving her with the distinct impression her name had arisen. Well, let them talk, let them all talk. Small towns seemed to hold a penchant for gossip. Word was bound to get around she was a widow. She didn't care what they thought or what they knew. Talking about how she came to be alone, however, put the fear of God in her. Given a choice, she didn't want to relive the incident much less talk about it. She forced herself to look away and concentrated on the music and dancing.

A voice drew her gaze away from the dance floor. "Looks like you could use a friend."

Cade stood before her his expression unreadable. "Not sure what I need at the moment."

Hoping to clear her befuddled mind, a hand went to her forehead. Without a word spoken, Cade took her hand and eased her to her feet. He wandered toward the wide-open door and like an errant child she did nothing to stop him. God help her.

A rush of evening air hit her congested lungs. She couldn't recall a time a cool breeze felt so welcoming and restorative. An owl hooted in the distance, and the sound of water rushing over rocks registered in her mind. Overhead, a full moon stood guard over the stars, providing meager but adequate light on their walk to the pond, his strides long, her legs leaden. The hand wrapped around hers and his towering height gave her a semblance of safety. A vision of that hard, lean body entwined with hers entered her brain before she could dismiss it. She didn't understand her draw to this man or her inability to put him from her thoughts.

They sat in the grass along the banks as a thousand stars overhead spanked the dark. She concentrated on the languid roll of moonlit waves and wondered what thoughts were running through the handsome man's head beside her. How much did he know after speaking with Emery?

At last he spoke. "How are you doing now?"

She eased her hand from his, crossed her arms and hugged her elbows. "Better now. That's the second time you've come to my rescue. Thank you."

"Welcome."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him watching her. Her thoughts warred with the ensuing silence. She should offer an explanation for her odd behavior. After clearing her throat, she sneaked a glance at him. "I don't do well at gatherings any more. I did at one time but now . . .."

"Does it have something to do with why you told me on the train you were married?" A soft laugh preceded his next words. "Or should I take the hint it's more personal than that?"

An unexpected swell of warmth washed over her. She pushed it down and shook her head. "No, it has nothing to do with you. I still think of myself as married. Guess I need more time to-to adjust to the fact I'm a widow now."

"Yes, Emery mentioned that. Before you go off thinking he engages in gossip, don't. I pressed him for information."

"Why?"

"Curiosity, for the most part. I sensed something wasn't right."

"Yes, well, didn't I just say I don't do well at gatherings these days?" She blew a huff. "Maybe it's more apparent than I realized."

"No, don't go down that road. Most wouldn't notice but reading people is part of my job." Another chuckle. "Hundreds come through Cobb's Grove every year looking for work. Instinct helps me separate the good workers from the slackers, troublemakers from those wanting to put in an honest day's work."

"I assure you I'm not a slacker or a troublemaker."

"I know." He gave a few quick nods. "You are a widow, though. Maybe if you talked about it, you'd come to grips with what happened."

"I told Emery, didn't I?"

"I'm not Emery."

"No, you're not."

She paused to clear the spider webs from her brain and wondered if she could or should tell him anything. She didn't know him, not really, and yet, in some respects, she felt as if she'd known him for some time. Twice he'd championed her cause and she felt safe with him. On more than one occasion, she wondered if she'd find shelter in his arms, respite from the world and all its cruelties. Cade Kincannon exuded strength, and not just physically. What she wouldn't give to steal some of that potent courage.

"At first, I relived the scene, over and over until I thought I'd go mad. These days, I relive the aftermath, the short span of time I had to make a decision. On my worst days, I'm convinced I made the wrong choice in coming here. Guess I should have let the bull have his run at me."

"But you didn't?"

"No. I blew him to smithereens with the rifle. 'Course, I had no idea how the grief would consume me in the days and months to come. I didn't know it would feel as if someone had ripped my heart from my chest and stuffed it back in, bleeding and fractured."

"You can't put a time limit on grief; it's different for everyone."

"Yes, but I'm here and about to teach a room full of children. It's unfair to them and everyone who's counting on me to do the job I'm being paid for. I should have stayed home, waited until I knew I could handle…."

"Handle?"

"Life, without slipping into mental paralysis."

"Staying home would have been a mistake."

Her arms came up at her sides, her eyebrows too. "How can you be sure? What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not. You're looking at things from the wrong angle. You made a decision to leave your home and family; travel a long way to take a teaching job without knowing a single soul. I don't think those decisions come from a woman unable to handle life."

When tears pooled in her eyes, he seemed to sense it. His body shifted to face her. She turned and stared into the gray eyes that reminded her of a storm-blighted sea right now. Hunger and desire resided in the depths. Did he mean to kiss her? Damnation, did she want him to? Yes, she did. He leaned in, his mouth hovering over hers, and she did nothing to stop him.

Emery's voice breached the magical moment. "Haven, are you out here? Haven?"

She pulled back from Cade's beckoning embrace. "Here, Emery, over by the pond!" With a shrug, she smiled at him. "I bet Charlotte sent out the search party."

He came to his feet and pulled her up by the hand with a sardonic laugh. "Remind me to thank her."

"Oh, there you are, and thank goodness Cade is with you." Emery glanced from her to Cade. "I-I hope I didn't interrupt—"

Cade's quick mind came to the rescue. "Haven needed fresh air and I decided to join her. No harm done."

"Charlotte insisted I check on her, and Mare and Budge just arrived. She's been asking after you, Cade."

With a flourish of his arm toward the barn, Cade nodded at Emery. "Lead the way. We're right behind you."