Miriam’s doing, because Dan hadn’t ever once taken flowers to it.
Where was Miriam?
Chapter 6
H e found her in the garden. A small basket with a trio of tomatoes and a pair of small melons lay in the soil by her skirts. At first, Gideon thought Miriam was on her knees, leaning forward to pick something. It took a second for him to realize she’d doubled over. She’d huddled down like a pitifully cold little rabbit that couldn’t find its way back to the warren. The backs of her hands rested in the loam, and her fingers curled upward to cup her forehead. She looked so vulnerable and forlorn. He hunkered down beside her and tried to take stock of the situation.
Placing a tentative hand on her shoulder, he murmured, “Miss Miriam? You all right?”
“Head hurts,” she whispered in a voice thick with tears.
“Aw, sweet pea, I’ll bet it does.” He eased his weight onto his knees and pulled her into his arms. She came unresistingly, but she didn’t nestle into him for comfort, either. She was too limp to do anything.
Gideon called himself ten kinds of a fool. After the way Logan flattened her and knocked her noggin, she still had to be feeling poorly. Gideon carefully cupped her head to his chest and amended his assessment. The lump beneath his fingers made him wonder why she hadn’t been cross-eyed and sick as a hound dog. Why had he let her cook and clean most of the day when he’d originally told her to sleep? He should have hauled her back to the house and tied her to the bed instead of letting her wear herself to a frazzle.
Just as bad, she still needed time after getting the awful news. One good cry didn’t wash away grief. It was a marvel she hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of tears over the way Daniel treated her.
Gideon’s fingers slid beneath her thick golden braid and slowly kneaded her nape. Her breath hitched. Every last inch of her shuddered. “Aww,” he murmured, unable to concoct anything meaningful for such a catastrophic time. Her breath hitched again, and he snuggled her closer. He’d tried hard to be strong after Pa and Mama each died, but he’d ridden Splotch off to a secluded spot and shed his fair share of bitter, aching tears, too. Folks expected a man to be strong, even in adversity, but a woman…
Well, a woman wasn’t supposed to be this brave. She’d spent the last scraps of her composure when Daniel thundered at her, then later at supper. Clearly she was spoiling for a decent caterwaul. “Might as well let loose,” he whispered into her soft hair.
“Weeping w–won’t make it an–nee bet–ter,” she whispered in choppy syllables that made her frame bump against him.
“Holding it all in won’t lessen it,” he countered. His words freed her, at least to some degree. Tears silently slipped down her cheeks and wet his shirt. He could almost taste the salt in them.
Crickets chirped and cicadas whirred. Horses whinnied and the cow lowed. One of the dogs barked a few times. Gideon knelt there and wished he were anywhere else. He wasn’t cut out to comfort a grieving woman. He felt awkward and stupid. Had he thought even once, poor little Miriam wouldn’t have worked herself into such a frazzled mess.
Right now the bitty, worn-out woman needed rest more than anything. His bed would have to do. It didn’t quite seem fitting for her to be sleeping in a room with a bunch of men. Even Mama hadn’t when they moved here.
A banker had cheated them out of their old ranch when Pa died. They’d packed up everything they owned and pretty much started fresh here. Mama was always first up and last to bed, so she’d slept in a bedstead in the main room. Since the stove sat a stone’s throw away from her mattress, she’d been warm enough during the coldest winter nights.
That bed now filled a fair part of the floor space in Daniel’s cabin. If Miriam were feeling any better, she ought to sleep in the cabin with the girls and have Daniel share the main house with his
Where was Miriam?
Chapter 6
H e found her in the garden. A small basket with a trio of tomatoes and a pair of small melons lay in the soil by her skirts. At first, Gideon thought Miriam was on her knees, leaning forward to pick something. It took a second for him to realize she’d doubled over. She’d huddled down like a pitifully cold little rabbit that couldn’t find its way back to the warren. The backs of her hands rested in the loam, and her fingers curled upward to cup her forehead. She looked so vulnerable and forlorn. He hunkered down beside her and tried to take stock of the situation.
Placing a tentative hand on her shoulder, he murmured, “Miss Miriam? You all right?”
“Head hurts,” she whispered in a voice thick with tears.
“Aw, sweet pea, I’ll bet it does.” He eased his weight onto his knees and pulled her into his arms. She came unresistingly, but she didn’t nestle into him for comfort, either. She was too limp to do anything.
Gideon called himself ten kinds of a fool. After the way Logan flattened her and knocked her noggin, she still had to be feeling poorly. Gideon carefully cupped her head to his chest and amended his assessment. The lump beneath his fingers made him wonder why she hadn’t been cross-eyed and sick as a hound dog. Why had he let her cook and clean most of the day when he’d originally told her to sleep? He should have hauled her back to the house and tied her to the bed instead of letting her wear herself to a frazzle.
Just as bad, she still needed time after getting the awful news. One good cry didn’t wash away grief. It was a marvel she hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of tears over the way Daniel treated her.
Gideon’s fingers slid beneath her thick golden braid and slowly kneaded her nape. Her breath hitched. Every last inch of her shuddered. “Aww,” he murmured, unable to concoct anything meaningful for such a catastrophic time. Her breath hitched again, and he snuggled her closer. He’d tried hard to be strong after Pa and Mama each died, but he’d ridden Splotch off to a secluded spot and shed his fair share of bitter, aching tears, too. Folks expected a man to be strong, even in adversity, but a woman…
Well, a woman wasn’t supposed to be this brave. She’d spent the last scraps of her composure when Daniel thundered at her, then later at supper. Clearly she was spoiling for a decent caterwaul. “Might as well let loose,” he whispered into her soft hair.
“Weeping w–won’t make it an–nee bet–ter,” she whispered in choppy syllables that made her frame bump against him.
“Holding it all in won’t lessen it,” he countered. His words freed her, at least to some degree. Tears silently slipped down her cheeks and wet his shirt. He could almost taste the salt in them.
Crickets chirped and cicadas whirred. Horses whinnied and the cow lowed. One of the dogs barked a few times. Gideon knelt there and wished he were anywhere else. He wasn’t cut out to comfort a grieving woman. He felt awkward and stupid. Had he thought even once, poor little Miriam wouldn’t have worked herself into such a frazzled mess.
Right now the bitty, worn-out woman needed rest more than anything. His bed would have to do. It didn’t quite seem fitting for her to be sleeping in a room with a bunch of men. Even Mama hadn’t when they moved here.
A banker had cheated them out of their old ranch when Pa died. They’d packed up everything they owned and pretty much started fresh here. Mama was always first up and last to bed, so she’d slept in a bedstead in the main room. Since the stove sat a stone’s throw away from her mattress, she’d been warm enough during the coldest winter nights.
That bed now filled a fair part of the floor space in Daniel’s cabin. If Miriam were feeling any better, she ought to sleep in the cabin with the girls and have Daniel share the main house with his
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