Guarding the Mountain Man’s Secret (Brothers of Sapphire Ranch #7)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

U ncle Hiram lay much like Clara had seen him less than an hour ago. His eyes were closed like he was sleeping.

But his lids flickered open when her footsteps sounded on the wood floor. He gave her his familiar smile, though it appeared weaker than usual. “Morning.”

The chair had already been moved to the side of his bed, so she sank into it. “I hear you’re not feeling well today.”

He shifted under the quilt. “It’s not too bad, just a bit warm and achy. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Clara touched his forehead. The heat there made her flinch. He felt hotter than she’d expected. “Dr. Coulter says she’ll be changing your bandage more often today and giving you tea for the pain.”

“Ah, yes. The good doctor has been very attentive.” His tired eyes crinkled at the corners. “As have you, my dear. I hope you got some proper rest last night.”

“I did.” And she loved this place, but did he need more expertise than Dr. Coulter could provide? “Do you think we should go to Fort Benton or a closer town? Maybe a more experienced doctor…?”

He shook his head. “The lady doctor knows what she’s doing, far more than many a physic I’ve been to.” He reached out his uninjured hand to cover hers where it rested on the quilt. “Have a little faith, child. The Lord brought us to the Coulters for a reason.”

Clara bit her lip. Protesting further would do no good. And she should have the same faith. “You’re right, of course. I just...I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

His eyes gentled with understanding. Uncle Hiram was Papa’s brother, but he’d loved Mama like a sister. He remembered how hard her passing had been. Though Clara had only been seven years old, she remembered those big tear drops rolling down his cheeks at her graveside. “I’m made of tougher stuff than a little burn. It’ll take more than this to steal me from you.” His smile held more certainty this time. “Now, tell me, what are your plans for the day? I know you won’t be content just sitting at my bedside.”

M iles pulled the front door closed behind him and stepped into the main house, making sure it latched so no drafts would follow him inside. Warmth rushed over him from the crackling fire, and he unfastened the buttons on his coat while he scanned the room. Dinah was working at the cookstove stirring something in a pot. Had Miss Pendleton still not come out?

As he hung up his hat and coat, the door opened to the room where their guests slept. The lady herself stepped through it, her brow lined with worry. She wore a pretty green dress this morning. An apron circled her narrow waist. Was she just now rising? From her expression, something wasn’t right.

He moved toward her. "Morning. What’s wrong?"

Her mouth pinched. "My uncle seems worse. He’s feverish now."

Miles glanced at Dinah, who met his gaze with a reassuring nod. "I've already been in to change his bandage. This tea should help bring the fever down—it's willow bark and garlic."

He wrinkled his nose. Poor Mr. Pendleton. That bitter concoction would be hard to swallow. But if anyone knew how to doctor a man, it was Dinah. Seemed she was doing all that could be done for now.

Miss Pendleton still looked agitated, her fingers twisting her apron. Maybe what she needed was a distraction, something to occupy her mind. Fresh air and activity usually helped, if he could talk her into it.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked.

She nodded. "I have."

"Well then, why don't you come out to the barn with me for a bit? I could show you the new pickax I've been working on. Or we could check the horses if you'd like."

She hesitated, glancing back at her uncle's door. Then she looked to Dinah, who gave a nod and a small smile.

With a sigh, Miss Pendleton untied her apron and hung it on a peg. "I suppose a few minutes wouldn't hurt. The dough needs to rise anyway." Grabbing her coat, she followed him out into the icy morning air.

As soon as the cold breeze hit her face, her shoulders seemed to relax a little. She took a deep breath, some of the color returning to her cheeks as they walked down the slope toward the barn.

He held the door open for her, and she stepped into the shelter of the building.

Inside, the rich scent of hay and horses enveloped them. Miss Pendleton moved first to her own horse, stroking the mare's nose and murmuring softly. She made her way down the row, petting her uncle's horse, then Miles's own gelding and Gil's mount. Finally, she paused to watch the milk cow chew hay at the edge of her stall that opened to the corral.

He couldn’t help but admire the picture this woman made, with her neat golden hair and the healthy flush the cold brought to her fine-boned face. There was a gentleness to her, a warmth that drew him in.

Giving himself a mental shake, Miles crossed to his workbench in the corner, running a hand over the smooth handle of his latest attempt at the hinged pickax.

Miss Pendleton followed, her eyes widening as she took in the various iterations of the tool laid out on the scarred wood.

She reached a tentative finger to touch the shining metal blade of the one closest to her. "You made all of these yourself?" Her voice held a note of wonder.

He nodded, trying not to let his pride surge. "I've been experimenting with different designs, trying to find the perfect balance and weight. This one"—he picked up the ax with the smoothed handle—"is the latest.”

She studied the tool in his hand. "The hinge allows the blade to swing freely, using the momentum to increase the force of the blow." Her gaze met his, bright with understanding. "That's brilliant, Mr. Coulter. Truly innovative."

Heat flushed his neck. She’d understood the design without him explaining it. Most of his brothers hadn’t done that. What an intelligent mind she must have. “Call me Miles. And I didn’t actually invent the idea. Saw it in the store in a little mining town. But I’m perfecting it.”

Her smile softened. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but instead turned back to the workbench, her fingers trailing over the various tools and scraps of metal. After a moment, she looked away, and her shoulders sagged a little as she wrapped her arms around her middle, staring into the dim interior of the barn. She must be worrying again.

Maybe talking would help. Remembering better days. "Your uncle, have you always been close with him?"

Miss Pendleton nodded, a gentle smile easing her expression. "Very much. My mother was sick most of my childhood, at least the parts I can remember. Whenever my parents would go off to see some new doctor or specialist, they would take me to the farm to stay with Uncle Hiram."

She wandered the few steps to the open barn door, staring out at the winter brown grass around the cabin. "He taught me to ride horses and milk cows and feed the animals. Everything he did, he let me tag along. My favorite times were at Christmas. Uncle Hiram would bundle me up, and we'd go out in his sleigh, the bells jingling with every step of the horse. We'd glide along the quiet roads, waving to neighbors as we passed.” Her voice grew wistful and thick. “Then he'd take me across the open fields where there was nothing but glittering snow and crisp blue sky as far as the eye could see."

Miles joined her at the door, leaning against the frame. Their shoulders nearly brushed as they stared out at the winter landscape. He could almost picture it—a younger Clara, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, snuggled under thick wool blankets as a stately sleigh carried her over the snow. The image made something ache in his chest.

He cleared his throat. "Those sound like wonderful memories. Your uncle clearly loves you."

She nodded, blinking back the glassy sheen in her eyes. "He's always been there for me, no matter what. And now…" Her voice caught, and she inhaled a deep breath. "Now I need to be there for him."

"You are. You're doing everything you can." He hesitated, then reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, hoping the gesture would offer some small comfort. "And we're here to help. Anything you need. You're not alone in this, Miss Pendleton."

She looked at him, those luminous green eyes searching his. For a long moment, she was silent.

Had he overstepped by touching her?

Before he could pull his hand back, she reached up to cover his fingers with her own. Though cold outside chilled her skin, her touch sent a flare of warmth through him.

"Call me Clara. Please. And thank you." Her voice came out just above a whisper. "Truly. For everything you and your family have done for us. I don't know how I can ever repay your kindness."

He shook his head. "Nothing to repay." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before dropping his hand back to his side. His fingers immediately missed the contact. Her warmth. "Now, what do you say we head back inside? Dinah's probably wondering what's keeping us."

Clara took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, some of that earlier determination returning to her bearing. "You're right. I should get back to preparing dinner." She glanced up at Miles. "Thank you for the distraction. It helped."

"Anytime." And he meant the words with every fiber of his being. No one else had ever caught his notice the way she did. He’d not be opposed to getting to know this woman better.

A new feeling for sure.

C lara tied the last knot in the sack of biscuits she’d pulled from the stove, then turned and carried the bundle out of the cabin.

Miles waited with their horses, the rest of their food already secured behind the saddles.

“This is it.” She handed the sack to him. The way he’d strapped the bundles appeared much more secure than her own knots, and the last thing she wanted was to lose any of this good food on the way down the mountain.

She mounted her horse and settled in the saddle, taking in the view while she waited for Miles. Rugged peaks towered around them, some already snow-covered, others still green with pines. So much raw beauty. So far removed from the streets of Baltimore. Different even from Uncle Hiram’s farm. There’d been a few rolling hills, but no majestic peaks like these.

Miles tugged the tie strap, then lifted his foot to his stirrup and swung into the saddle. “All set?”

She tipped her head toward the path. “Lead the way.”

She’d not asked Miles to accompany her. He’d simply said he was coming. But she was grateful. It would have been a challenge to pack all the food behind one saddle without squashing some of it. And finding the camp in the woods might take longer than she’d like. Not to mention the fact that wild animals might be drawn to the scent of the food. The last thing she wanted was to have to use the handgun she’d dutifully slipped into her pocket.

As they left the clearing, Miles led them on a trail down the mountain.

She breathed in the crisp mountain air, relishing the scent of pine and the feeling of freedom that came in this wilderness.

After a few minutes, he broke the quiet. "So, what are the surveyors' plans for this area?"

Clara studied his back as she rode behind him. "Well, they'll be measuring and mapping the terrain, looking for the best route for the railroad. I'm hoping to get their notes with measurements tonight so I can sketch everything to scale tomorrow."

They rode on for another minute before he spoke again. "They're really surveying for a railroad to come through these mountains? Through here? He motioned with one hand toward the wooded landscape.

Maybe the idea of a train invading his family's property didn’t sit well with him. Some people felt that way, though others welcomed easier travel back east. "Yes, but all we do is measure and map. It'll be up to the railroad to decide the route they think is best."

“Hmm.” His tone sounded interested, but not necessarily upset.

The trees were spaced far enough through here that she could nudge her mare alongside his horse to see his expressions. "Would you want the railroad nearby?"

He shrugged, his gaze lifting to the sky ahead. "Not especially. I'm just glad—" He cut the sentence off abruptly.

She studied him, waiting for him to finish. Or explain himself. He didn’t seem like he planned to, so she prompted. "What were you going to say?"

He hesitated, then sighed. "I'm glad you're really surveyors for the railroad."

Glad? Instead of…

He glanced at her and, considering his grimace, must have seen her confusion. "My family's been having trouble from a group of miners who stole from us in the past. We’ve been on the lookout for them. It's a large group with a lot of contacts, and we'd wondered if your surveying was a ruse and you were part of them."

Indignation flared inside her, and she met Miles's level gaze. Nothing in his expression showed any ill will. From his perspective, they could have been nefarious strangers riding across his land, so she should try to rein in her resentment. She took a deep inhale and offered a tight smile. "I can assure you, we're most definitely not part of a mining group come to steal from your family. I've been with the surveyors since Fort Benton, and my uncle worked with them for weeks before that, all the way since they started at the Missouri River."

His posture relaxed. “I believe you.”

She blew out a breath. Jericho's rudeness yesterday now made sense. It was a wonder they'd allowed her and her uncle to stay at the house at all. Perhaps only to keep an eye on them. Either way, they wouldn't find anything suspicious about her or Uncle Hiram.