them from shaking.
“Faith, you awake?” Luke called quietly.
She sat there stewing. Colton and Dawn had been asleep for a good hour. She could pretend she was asleep, too; that way she wouldn’t have to face the accusation she knew she’d see in his eyes. But, Lord. She hated not defending herself. Hated letting Ward go about spreading lies.
“I’m awake.”
“Would you mind coming out here for a spell?” Luke cleared his throat. “So we can talk.”
No. She wouldn’t mind. But he might when she got finished with him. “I’ll be right out.”
Snatching up her shawl, she wrapped it tightly around herself and slipped out into the darkness. She felt his hand steady her as she climbed down the wheel to the ground. The desire to pull away was strong, but she mastered it, knowing such an act wouldn’t do any good.
He steered her away from the campfire to a more secluded place beyond some trees. Her nerves were taut, frayed. Unable to hold back a moment longer, she rounded on Luke, throwing him off balance. “How could you?” she demanded.
“What?”
“How could you let that lying, cunning, sad excuse of a human being stay?” she cried. “Oh, he’s so smooth. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.”
“He hasn’t lied to me—at least not that I know of.”
“You believe him. Trust him. Because he’s a man. And women are stupid, lazy, lying and…and…” She couldn’t think of anything else Samuel called her. “Don’t you? You don’t think he’s a threat to Colton or me. Or to Dawn for that matter.”
His lips thinned. “Quit putting words in my mouth,” he whispered angrily. “I wanted answers last night, Faith. Wanted to figure out just what was going on. But you didn’t seem to have any for me. Remember?” He paced away, stood for a moment and then paced back, irritation apparent in every inch of his body.
Damnation. Why was it so hard for her to talk with him without getting worked up?
She erased any evidence of emotion from her voice. “I remember, Luke.” Oh, she’d wanted to give him answers. Wanted to spill the whole ugly mess into his lap, then let him pick up the pieces of her heart and soul, one by one, and make everything right. But she couldn’t. Just the thought of telling him was enough to make her stomach sour up. So, silence was her answer.
“See?” he charged, pointing his finger in her face. “You’re doing it again. Right now. Shutting me out.”
“You’re right,” she threw back, wishing she could do otherwise. “There aren’t any answers.”
“There aren’t? Or, you just won’t give them to me?” Luke stared at her. Moments ticked by. “Your aunt Penelope,” he said in a much calmer voice. “She has room for the three of you?”
“Well…” Faith paused, thinking. “Yes, she does.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “And, you know her well, then, this aunt of yours?”
Each time he said the word “aunt,” Faith noticed his jaw clench and release. Whatever was wrong with him?
“Why do you ask such a silly question? Of course I know her well. She’s sweet and kind and gentle. She has brown hair and beautiful big eyes, and…I love her dearly.”
“Hmm. I see,” he said, his eyes reflecting dangerously the moonlight from above. “And, does she usually prefer oat, alfalfa or clover hay?” He’d dropped his arms to his side and stood glaring.
It took a moment before she realized what he’d just said. Gathering all her courage, Faith advanced on Luke and his anger. “You big”—she planted her hands in the middle of his chest and shoved with all her might—“ox!”
He didn’t go flying like she hoped he would, merely stepped back and caught his balance. That made her even madder.
“ ‘Poor Faith,’” she mimicked Ward. “ ‘She’s so upset over Samuel’s death! Poor Faith, she doesn’t know what she’s doing!’”
Nudging up his hat with his thumb, Luke stared at her all the harder. As she tromped back
“Faith, you awake?” Luke called quietly.
She sat there stewing. Colton and Dawn had been asleep for a good hour. She could pretend she was asleep, too; that way she wouldn’t have to face the accusation she knew she’d see in his eyes. But, Lord. She hated not defending herself. Hated letting Ward go about spreading lies.
“I’m awake.”
“Would you mind coming out here for a spell?” Luke cleared his throat. “So we can talk.”
No. She wouldn’t mind. But he might when she got finished with him. “I’ll be right out.”
Snatching up her shawl, she wrapped it tightly around herself and slipped out into the darkness. She felt his hand steady her as she climbed down the wheel to the ground. The desire to pull away was strong, but she mastered it, knowing such an act wouldn’t do any good.
He steered her away from the campfire to a more secluded place beyond some trees. Her nerves were taut, frayed. Unable to hold back a moment longer, she rounded on Luke, throwing him off balance. “How could you?” she demanded.
“What?”
“How could you let that lying, cunning, sad excuse of a human being stay?” she cried. “Oh, he’s so smooth. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.”
“He hasn’t lied to me—at least not that I know of.”
“You believe him. Trust him. Because he’s a man. And women are stupid, lazy, lying and…and…” She couldn’t think of anything else Samuel called her. “Don’t you? You don’t think he’s a threat to Colton or me. Or to Dawn for that matter.”
His lips thinned. “Quit putting words in my mouth,” he whispered angrily. “I wanted answers last night, Faith. Wanted to figure out just what was going on. But you didn’t seem to have any for me. Remember?” He paced away, stood for a moment and then paced back, irritation apparent in every inch of his body.
Damnation. Why was it so hard for her to talk with him without getting worked up?
She erased any evidence of emotion from her voice. “I remember, Luke.” Oh, she’d wanted to give him answers. Wanted to spill the whole ugly mess into his lap, then let him pick up the pieces of her heart and soul, one by one, and make everything right. But she couldn’t. Just the thought of telling him was enough to make her stomach sour up. So, silence was her answer.
“See?” he charged, pointing his finger in her face. “You’re doing it again. Right now. Shutting me out.”
“You’re right,” she threw back, wishing she could do otherwise. “There aren’t any answers.”
“There aren’t? Or, you just won’t give them to me?” Luke stared at her. Moments ticked by. “Your aunt Penelope,” he said in a much calmer voice. “She has room for the three of you?”
“Well…” Faith paused, thinking. “Yes, she does.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “And, you know her well, then, this aunt of yours?”
Each time he said the word “aunt,” Faith noticed his jaw clench and release. Whatever was wrong with him?
“Why do you ask such a silly question? Of course I know her well. She’s sweet and kind and gentle. She has brown hair and beautiful big eyes, and…I love her dearly.”
“Hmm. I see,” he said, his eyes reflecting dangerously the moonlight from above. “And, does she usually prefer oat, alfalfa or clover hay?” He’d dropped his arms to his side and stood glaring.
It took a moment before she realized what he’d just said. Gathering all her courage, Faith advanced on Luke and his anger. “You big”—she planted her hands in the middle of his chest and shoved with all her might—“ox!”
He didn’t go flying like she hoped he would, merely stepped back and caught his balance. That made her even madder.
“ ‘Poor Faith,’” she mimicked Ward. “ ‘She’s so upset over Samuel’s death! Poor Faith, she doesn’t know what she’s doing!’”
Nudging up his hat with his thumb, Luke stared at her all the harder. As she tromped back
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