Separate Roads by Tracie Peterson, Judith Pella Page A

a halt to their plans. The latest problem came in the form of Indian uprisings and threats to the safety of travelers moving west. But those were issues for another day. Right now he had to put his pride aside and deal with Jordana’s wayward spirit.
    “You are under my care,” he stated, working hard to keep his own temper in check. “You’ll abide by my wishes, or I’ll pack you on the first means of transportation and send you back to our parents.”
    “You’ll do no such thing!” Jordana countered. “You have no right to treat me this way. You know full well that I know how to take care of myself. Damon Chittenden was only being nice. He simply offered me a carriage ride on a pretty day. That’s all!”
    “That’s not all,” Brenton said, irritation edging his tone. “He intends to court you. He’d like to marry you.”
    “Oh, what nonsense. I’ve no intention of marrying anyone!” she declared loudly.
    “Well, maybe you should tell Mr. Chittenden,” Brenton suggested, his tone just as loud.
    “Maybe I will!”
    They were nearly nose to nose when Caitlan interceded. “Look at ya two. Ya need to calm down and leave off with the screamin’. Ya’ll have the neighbors over to be seein’ to the trouble.”
    “Stay out of this, Caitlan,” Brenton said angrily. “This is between Jordana and me.”
    “And for sure I’m seein’ that. But ya’ll not be solvin’ anything out of anger.”
    He turned and looked at her. That was his first mistake. Her spirited expression made her most desirable. How was a man supposed to think rationally when she had eyes that green—no, they were almost turquoise—staring him down. He felt his resolve crumbling, and the only way he found to deal with his helplessness was to lash out.
    “Caitlan, this doesn’t have anything to do with you! I’m not going to ask again for you to stay out of it. Just because your brother doesn’t have the decency to concern himself with your gallivanting doesn’t mean I’ll follow suit with Jordana.” Realizing too late what he’d just said, Brenton was instantly regretful. He hadn’t meant to take his frustration out on Caitlan. In fact, she was the last one he had wanted to strike out at.
    He refused to look Caitlan in the eye. He focused instead on his sister. Jordana’s expression changed instantly, but not in the manner he’d expected. The anger dissolved to a stunned look, and she reached out, not for Brenton, but for Caitlan.
    “He’s just mad at me, Caitlan. Pay him no mind,” she said in a comforting tone to her friend.
    Brenton knew he was rapidly losing control of the situation. “This has gone on long enough. Jordana, I think the best thing for you to do would be to go back to Mother and Father. I’ll wire Father for the money to send you to them, and for money to send Caitlan to Kiernan.”
    “No! I won’t be goin’,” Caitlan declared. “Ya’ll not be orderin’ me around, and I’ll not be takin’ yar charity. Go where ya will, do what ya like, but I’ll be seein’ to meself. Ya may be thinkin’ me nothin’ but a no-account Irish, but I have me standards and morals. And if me brother keeps hisself from worryin’ on my account, mebbe it’s because he trusted yarself to take care of matters.” Her voice sounded unsteady as she finished.
    Brenton had no other choice but to face them both. Jordana had her arm around Caitlan’s waist, and there were tears in Caitlan’s eyes—as well as fire. He’d seldom seen her so worked up, at least not when he was the focus of her attention. Raising his arms in defeat, he went to the door and took his black felt hat from the wall. He couldn’t talk to them about his feelings. He couldn’t make them understand that he feared for their safety—that he feared he wouldn’t be man enough to keep them from harm.
    Slamming the door behind him, Brenton headed in the direction of the small photography studio he’d set up. There was seldom enough business to