My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (21 page)

Someone settled beside him. A girl with pale-blue eyes. “I don’t know that we met,” she said sweetly.

Perfect. Gideon fought back a surge of irritation and forced a cordial nod.

“Lydia McGuire.”

He didn’t have time for this. “Gideon,” he blurted. But then her last name pulled something to the front of his mind, and he allowed a second glance at her face. No doubt a sister of the groom.

“I saw you playing.”

He nodded.

“Do you dance as well?”

He rubbed his hands together and watched Toby turn Lonnie, their smiles so perfectly matched he thought he was going to be sick. “Depends.” His chance was gone.

“On who’s asking?” she finished for him.

He glanced at her, feeling a twinge of guilt for his rudeness. He ought to be somewhat polite. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my dancing days are over.”

“But you would dance with her.” She pointed to where Toby and Lonnie had moved to the edge of the crowd. Where Gideon was staring.

“Well … she’s …” It was a story he wasn’t about to tell. “Never mind.” How could he hope to dance with Lonnie but snub someone else? He stood and smoothed his tie. “Would you do me the honor?” he asked without feeling, grateful the song was half over. But perhaps she didn’t know that.

Her face brightened, and she rose, nearly reaching for his arm. Quickly, he strode toward the twirling crowd, and a glance over his shoulder confirmed that she was right behind. Turning, he faced her and held out a hand. She slid hers inside his palm and smiled in a way that sent his heart into his stomach.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted Lonnie. He wanted his freedom. He caught the faint scent of moonshine when the girl moved closer. Head spinning, his boots felt shackled to the floor, but somehow he turned. Bringing her with him. She stepped closer than he liked, and he moved back a bit. She only followed. Clearing his throat, Gideon stared past her at the blur of people. He stayed in the same spot, leading them in a slow circle.

She spoke, breaking the settled silence, but he wasn’t listening. Then remembering that he was
trying
to be a gentleman—trying and utterly failing—he looked down at her. He couldn’t remember what she’d said. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re not from around here?”

“Sort of. I’ve recently moved back.”

“Ah. I didn’t think we’d met. I would have remembered.”

Not much to say to that, so he kept silent. He glanced around for sight of Lonnie, but the crowd was too thick. Pressing them closer. He looked down at his dance partner. Or was that her doing? She blinked her pale eyes too prettily, and her fingers found the base of his hair.

He realized that being a gentleman in this moment was beyond the call of duty.

He released her, relieved that the song was ending. A twirl of her dark hair around her finger, and she seemed to size him up. “Thank you for the dance.” She stepped toward the massive entryway. A glance over her shoulder and a sly smile, she disappeared into the dusky light of evening.

Two years ago, he would have followed her like a cat to cream.

But he shoved his hands in his pockets and wished with all his might to be out of this place. Some quiet corner where he could just sit and talk with Lonnie. If Jacob were there, the dream would be perfect.

He wanted to go home. He wanted his son. First thing was to get out of here. He turned and nearly plowed straight into Lonnie. She gasped, and he caught her by the arm, then quickly stepped back. “Sorry, Lonnie. I didn’t know you were standing there.”

She lifted one foot as if to rub her toes. “That’s all right. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” She winked, and he knew she was teasing.

He soaked in the sight of her, and his melancholy scattered. Hand pressed to his chest, he swallowed hard. “Would—would you like to dance?”

“Love to.” Her brown eyes twinkled, sending his heart soaring toward the rafters.

Her small hand slid in the crook of his arm, and he wove them through the crowd, their feet moving as one. Finally, he turned and took her in his arms.
Not too close
, he reminded himself. He held her as he would a sister. He’d have to remind himself of that a hundred times if he wanted to get through the next few minutes.

“Have you had a nice time tonight?” she asked, her voice so sweet and genuine that he nearly tightened his grip on her waist. Instead, he
expanded his chest, opening his arms so there was a wider breadth between them.

“This moment.” The words slipped out awkwardly, and he wanted to kick himself for not making any sense. She blushed and watched her feet as if to remember the steps.

Her hand slid over his shoulder, fingers tracing his back ever so softly. He wondered if it was intentional. If she realized what she was doing. Or if it was merely a habit from their past. Clearing his throat, he rolled his shoulder, loosening her grip. Praying she wouldn’t notice or take offense. For if she only knew what he was fighting back.

“Where is your reverend?” he blurted, needing a change of subject. And quick.

“He’s not
my
reverend. And he went to prepare the wagon. I was feeling tired, and …” Those doe eyes looked up at him. “I came to find you, actually.”

“And you found me.” He couldn’t help but let a smile through.

It must have been contagious for she smiled too. “I found you.” Her thumb circled the back of his hand.

Gideon gently pressed her away just the slightest.

“Gid!”

Gideon looked back to see Gus stride toward him.

“There you are!”

Their dance stopped. He released her.

Breathless, Gus pulled an envelope from his chest pocket. “I saw Lonnie and was about to give this to her, but I’ll just as soon give it to ya meself.”

“Thanks.” Gideon took the crisp envelope and, turning it over, read the tidy script. The return address.

Stuart.

The wagon jostled as Gideon broke the seal on his letter. With a glance at Lonnie, he pulled out the sheet of paper, grateful for the last bit of golden sunlight on the horizon. He squinted at the dark ink and struggled to make out the words. His hand shook so bad, he had to press the paper against his thigh and try again.

He studied the scribble of a signature at the bottom.
Judge Monroe, March 3, 1902
.

The ink blurred in the evening haze, and Gideon forced it closer to his face. The words jumped out. A fiery slap.

… have been unable to locate Cassie Allan
.

Gideon swallowed hard.

… the ruling hangs in the balance. Without her official affidavit, I’m afraid my hands are tied
.

Heart picking up pace, Gideon breathed harder with each following word.

It would be wise to prepare yourself …

He looked at Lonnie, her shape so perfect against the sunset. Her shoulder pressed to Toby’s.

… for an alternate outcome of what you desire
.

He was going to be sick. Warring with the urge to crumple the letter in his fist, Gideon forced himself to fold it and slide it back in the envelope. His chest heaved. He’d read it again with better light.

He needed to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. But he knew they were not. The words were as he’d read them.

Prepare himself? To lose Lonnie? Again.

There was no preparation in the world that would be sufficient. He’d already lost her once. He wasn’t about to do it again. Gideon wanted to break something. Anything. Leaning toward her, Toby spoke low and soft. Hands fisted, Gideon glared at the man’s back, a heat in his spirit rising as a flood.

The wagon stopped, and Gideon glanced around, realizing they were home. Heart hammering in his chest, he struggled to his knees, then climbed down. He was shaking so fiercely he had to grip the side of the wagon.

He scarcely heard Toby speak. “I’ll walk you up, Lonnie.”

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded distant through the ringing in his ears.

Toby helped her from the wagon, his hands about her waist.

How easy to break his fingers.

Reaching the top of the porch, Toby spoke something to her and turned to go. Lonnie’s hand on the reverend’s arm halted him. Gideon wished he could hear her words, for the lantern light that poured through the kitchen window lit her face in such a way that even in the dark, he couldn’t miss the tenderness there. It was a question she spoke—of that he had no doubt, if not in the way Toby hesitated to respond, then in the earnestness with which she watched him.

At his words, she lowered her face, but Toby’s hand was beneath her chin, tilting it toward him.

This wasn’t happening.

Gideon turned away. Finally, he heard Toby step back down the stairs. He glanced up. A little wave in his direction, and Lonnie slipped inside. Gideon straightened. Blood surged hot through him.

Toby moved toward the wagon.

“She doesn’t need you as much as you think she does,” Gideon said coolly.

Stilling, Toby looked at him. “Aye. I ken that. She’s a strong one, Lonnie.”

“So why are you still here?”

The man seemed to choose his words with care. “I want to be her friend.”

“No. You’re in love with her.”

Toby stared at him a moment. “And what of it?” He lifted his chin. “I willna stand in your way, but from what I understand, you already have a wife.”

Gideon stepped toward him.

“And I … don’t.”

Gideon nearly shoved him. “Don’t you even come near her.” He circled Toby. “Don’t even think about it.”

Eyes hard, Toby didn’t move. He slid off his hat and turned it in his hand, finally tossing it in the back of the wagon as if he knew what was coming. “I’m afraid that’s not your decision.”

Well. It should be. But everything was wrong.

“I’m not going to take Lonnie from you.”

“Oh. You’re so holy.”

“Do you even listen?” His feet firmly planted, Toby shook his head. “I dinna say I was a saint. But if you start accusing me of breaking some kind of law, you ought to look a wee bit closer to home.”

Bursting forward, Gideon grabbed Toby by the collar and shoved him back. Toby yanked his shirt free, then planted his feet.

Gideon shoved him again; every ounce of his strength seemed to belt through his arms. Toby’s back smacked the side of the wagon, the old wood groaning under the force. Toby turned slightly just as Gideon’s fist pounded into the box bed, missing him.

Pain shot hot through Gideon’s arm.

Toby glared at him. “That’s enough, Gid—” A hook to the face silenced him. Toby doubled over and shook his head. Blood dripped from his nose. Another shake and he blinked quickly. Toby gasped and straightened, eyes dark.

“Hit me.” Gideon kicked him, slamming him harder against the wagon box. “Come on!” Gael reared and bolted, the wagon speeding away.

Toby turned and socked him in the jaw. “You idiot!”

Pain burned through Gideon’s skull. Fire blurring his vision, he rammed every ounce of his strength into Toby, sending the man barreling into the porch railing. The wood cracked. He shot a fist into Toby’s ribs.

Once. Twice.

Then Toby’s knee in his gut made him double over. Toby moved away. Gideon saw stars as he struggled to breathe. The man was an ox.

The door flew open, crashing against the wall. Jebediah stormed out, shotgun in hand.

Lonnie flew onto the porch. She seemed to take in the scene, and in a moment, she was down the steps and at Toby’s side. She glared at Gideon.

Of course
.

“What’s goin’ on?” Jebediah demanded.

Gideon stumbled to his feet, and Toby pressed the back of his hand to his nose. Blood dripped down his wrist.

Standing in his nightshirt and bare feet, Jebediah broke open the gun,
clicked a shell into the chamber, and using one arm, pointed it toward Gideon. His gray eyes snapped. “I should throw you right outta here.”

“Jebediah,” Toby began, “I’m equally at fault.” He wiped his hand on the hem of his shirt.

“Then you git too.”

Jebediah flicked his gun toward the fence, driving home his message. “You’re just two … pig-headed stallions,” he growled. “Don’t you set one foot inside my house.” The gun shifted to Toby then back at Gideon. “Neither one of you. Not ever again.” He lowered his gun and released the hammer. “Nearly punchin’ holes through some person’s wagon …” He glared at Gideon. “I hope you
broke
your hand.”

Gideon rubbed his sore knuckles. This night couldn’t get any worse.

“Now. I’m going to go upstairs and get dressed. And then we’re gonna talk. If either one of you kills the other while I’m gone, I’ll shoot the one still standing.”

The first stars glittered in the evening sky as Lonnie peered through the screen door. Gideon and Toby sat on the top step of the porch, a broomstick apart. Neither spoke. Gideon’s head hung between his shoulders, and with his elbows on his knees, he locked his fingers together. Toby sat in the same manner. With a bowl of warm water and a pair of damp rags tucked in the crook of her arm, Lonnie stepped out. She held Elsie’s medic basket in her other hand. The men turned. After shifting her load around, Lonnie threw a wet rag at Gideon’s chest, and when it slapped against his shirt, she hoped it was cold.

Sitting between them, she turned toward Toby. She motioned for him to straighten, and with her hand on his shoulder, he did. Gently, she placed her palm just below his ribs, where Gideon’s boot had left mud on the fabric. He flinched.

“Sorry.” She pressed again.

He winced and lifted his chin, eyes distant. “He didn’t break them.” His voice was low.

“Good.” She shifted to a lower step. She peered briefly to where Gael
was tied up near the barn. Toby had spent the last ten minutes trying to coax the horse from a stand of trees.

The rag was warm when she wrung it out. Toby took it and wiped his face. She looked at the drops of blood that stained the top of his shirt.

Gideon rose and walked into the yard a few paces, his back to them. He pulled the envelope from his pocket, studied it a moment, then slid it back in. She’d forgotten to ask him who it was from. Right now, she was too angry to care.