at her lower lip. When he chuckled, she felt it in her knees.
“What’s the matter, Sprite? Not thinking of welching on the bet, now, are ya?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. Actually, she was beginning to wonder if she’d lost the race on purpose.
They walked silently for a time. He caught her hand in his and she didn’t pull away. He began to whistle that same tune he’d been humming off and on since the day she left him in the brambles. “What’s it called, the song, I mean?” Katie asked. “It must be a favorite of yours.”
“Lay the young… oh, I don’t remember the name. Just a catchy tune I can’t seem to forget,” he answered.
She looked at him suspiciously. He’s up to something, she told herself. He’s wearing that angel’s face again. “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t want to race today.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Well, after the way you stomped out of the tavern last night, I wondered if you’d even be here this morning. Who was that man, Branch? You and Mr. Bell didn’t exactly look like friends during all that whispering between you. What did he say to upset you so?”
Her eyes widened as, for just a moment, he became a cold, forbidding stranger. His golden eyes shuttered, and his body tightened into a long, angry line. Automatically, Katie took half a step back.
He visibly forced himself to relax his stance, although the tension in his eyes lingered. “He’s a friend, I told you that,” he said. “Anything more is not really your business.”
Stung, she looked away. For all their bickering and bantering, nothing he had said had actually hurt her feelings before now. Suddenly she wanted to cry.
Their wanderings had led them to a spot not far from the graves of her family, and upon that realization, she murmured a distracted, “Excuse me,” and left.
He didn’t follow her at once. She had cleared the refuse of dead leaves and pine needles from both Mary Margaret’s and Steven’s graves and had begun to work on her mother’s when Branch spoke from the edge of the graveyard. “How did your husband die, Kate?”
Kneeling beside Steven Starr’s final resting place, Katie’s back stiffened. “Murder. He was murdered. My daughter, too. She was just a baby, a beautiful, healthy little girl.”
Branch’s curse was short and explicit. “Texas is a damned hard land, isn’t it?”
“No.” Katie shook her head as she brushed brittle dogwood twigs from the base of the cross that marked Mr. Garrett’s grave. “It’s not the land that is hard, Branch. It’s the people. But people have to be hard to survive in a place such as this. The problem is that mixed with the toughness is the evil. Texas has more than her share of evil people.”
She saw the scuffed tips of his boots as he walked to her side and squatted down. He took her hand. “You want to tell me about it?”
She couldn’t help herself. She said, “It’s none of your business, Kincaid.”
He grimaced. “I deserve that.” Gently, he brushed an errant curl from her forehead, an apology in his touch. “I’ve got some ghosts in my life, too, Sprite. Sometimes, like last night, they rise up to haunt me.”
Dirt clung to the fingers she lifted to rub at the pressure building behind her eyes. He took the hand and pulled her to her feet. They walked to the riverbank, where he wrapped her in a comforting hug, and in silence, they watched the water drift slowly past.
Katie shivered as emotion swelled within her, and when the words stumbled out, she spoke as much to herself as to Branch. “I made a promise the night they died. I promised them I’d find the one responsible and make him pay. It’s been so long now, and I haven’t learned anything, I haven’t done anything. I feel so… so…”
“Powerless,” Branch concluded. “I know, Katie, I know.”
“But you don’t, Branch, you can’t.” The trembling began, and she clenched her teeth against it. The thing that lived in the
“What’s the matter, Sprite? Not thinking of welching on the bet, now, are ya?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. Actually, she was beginning to wonder if she’d lost the race on purpose.
They walked silently for a time. He caught her hand in his and she didn’t pull away. He began to whistle that same tune he’d been humming off and on since the day she left him in the brambles. “What’s it called, the song, I mean?” Katie asked. “It must be a favorite of yours.”
“Lay the young… oh, I don’t remember the name. Just a catchy tune I can’t seem to forget,” he answered.
She looked at him suspiciously. He’s up to something, she told herself. He’s wearing that angel’s face again. “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t want to race today.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Well, after the way you stomped out of the tavern last night, I wondered if you’d even be here this morning. Who was that man, Branch? You and Mr. Bell didn’t exactly look like friends during all that whispering between you. What did he say to upset you so?”
Her eyes widened as, for just a moment, he became a cold, forbidding stranger. His golden eyes shuttered, and his body tightened into a long, angry line. Automatically, Katie took half a step back.
He visibly forced himself to relax his stance, although the tension in his eyes lingered. “He’s a friend, I told you that,” he said. “Anything more is not really your business.”
Stung, she looked away. For all their bickering and bantering, nothing he had said had actually hurt her feelings before now. Suddenly she wanted to cry.
Their wanderings had led them to a spot not far from the graves of her family, and upon that realization, she murmured a distracted, “Excuse me,” and left.
He didn’t follow her at once. She had cleared the refuse of dead leaves and pine needles from both Mary Margaret’s and Steven’s graves and had begun to work on her mother’s when Branch spoke from the edge of the graveyard. “How did your husband die, Kate?”
Kneeling beside Steven Starr’s final resting place, Katie’s back stiffened. “Murder. He was murdered. My daughter, too. She was just a baby, a beautiful, healthy little girl.”
Branch’s curse was short and explicit. “Texas is a damned hard land, isn’t it?”
“No.” Katie shook her head as she brushed brittle dogwood twigs from the base of the cross that marked Mr. Garrett’s grave. “It’s not the land that is hard, Branch. It’s the people. But people have to be hard to survive in a place such as this. The problem is that mixed with the toughness is the evil. Texas has more than her share of evil people.”
She saw the scuffed tips of his boots as he walked to her side and squatted down. He took her hand. “You want to tell me about it?”
She couldn’t help herself. She said, “It’s none of your business, Kincaid.”
He grimaced. “I deserve that.” Gently, he brushed an errant curl from her forehead, an apology in his touch. “I’ve got some ghosts in my life, too, Sprite. Sometimes, like last night, they rise up to haunt me.”
Dirt clung to the fingers she lifted to rub at the pressure building behind her eyes. He took the hand and pulled her to her feet. They walked to the riverbank, where he wrapped her in a comforting hug, and in silence, they watched the water drift slowly past.
Katie shivered as emotion swelled within her, and when the words stumbled out, she spoke as much to herself as to Branch. “I made a promise the night they died. I promised them I’d find the one responsible and make him pay. It’s been so long now, and I haven’t learned anything, I haven’t done anything. I feel so… so…”
“Powerless,” Branch concluded. “I know, Katie, I know.”
“But you don’t, Branch, you can’t.” The trembling began, and she clenched her teeth against it. The thing that lived in the
Similar Books
