McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [65]
“Does that belong to your daughter?” she heard herself ask, referring to the little strip of blue silk.
Holt nodded, closed his fingers around the ribbon for a moment, then slipped it back into his pocket. “Lizzie gave it to me before I left the Triple M.” He smiled wistfully. “I guess she was afraid I’d forget her.”
Lorelei could have made a pointed comment, given that he’d apparently forgotten Lizzie’s mother easily enough, but somehow, she didn’t have the heart to do it. The way he’d held that ribbon, clasped it in his palm, said a great deal about his affection for the child.
Moreover, she’d been presumptuous, assuming that he’d followed her into the mission just to bedevil her. Perhaps he hadn’t even known she was there. He could have come in for reasons of his own, ones that had nothing whatsoever to do with her.
“Why were you crying?” he asked.
“I’m not going to tell you,” she said, “so please stop asking.”
He chuckled. Shook his head.
“Did you come in here expecting to be alone?”
He studied her face with an exaggerated, mocking sort of interest, his eyes dancing. He was probably thinking about repeating her own words back to her. “No,” he said, at such length that Lorelei nearly perished from the waiting. “I saw you come in. And I wanted to apologize.” He paused, considering. “Maybe wanted is the wrong word. Both John and the Cap’n threatened to horsewhip me if I didn’t.”
The smiled reached her lips before she had a fair chance to catch it.
“Apology accepted?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, after much thought. “But it’s probably a wasted effort, because we’re bound to lock horns again tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Most likely, you’re right.”
“I’m nearly always right,” she said boldly.
He pretended to glower. “Or maybe it won’t take until tomorrow,” he said.
Then he stood, stepped over the bench, and put out his hand to her. “Truce?”
She hesitated, then allowed him to help her to her feet. “For the time being,” she said.
He laughed. “Fair enough,” he agreed.
CHAPTER 23
A TRAILSIDE SUPPER, Lorelei soon discovered, left a lot to be desired. It consisted of cold biscuits and the huge pot of pinto beans Tillie had cooked up the night before, at the ranch. Nevertheless, the food filled the empty places, and the coffee was hot, strong and plentiful.
The sky was pierced with stars, from one horizon to the other, and even though Lorelei hurt in places she hadn’t thought it was possible to feel pain, she felt strangely content, sitting beside that campfire, with Tillie perched on one side of her and Melina on the other.
“Look at that moon,” Melina marveled, tipping her head back to admire the huge silvery orb.
Tillie was admiring her doll, which rested in her lap, stroking its frilly little dress with one hand, but Lorelei followed Melina’s gaze.
That moon had looked down on all manner of things in its time, Lorelei reflected. And when they were all dead and gone, it would still be there, following its path, while new generations of people lived out their stories. “What do you suppose it was like out here, when the mission was still open?” she mused.
“Lonely,” Melina said, with a small sigh. Sorrowful had come to rest his muzzle on her thigh, and she stroked his head idly, still sky-gazing. “I wonder if Gabe can see that moon.”
Tentatively, Lorelei touched Melina’s hand. “Whatever happens to Gabe,” she said, “you’ll be all right.”
“Will I?” Melina asked softly. And when she turned her head, Lorelei saw that there were tears standing in her eyes. “Gabe and I, we’ve been apart more than we’ve been together, but I always knew he was out there someplace. That he’d turn up when I least expected, bringing me presents, saying pretty words, making me laugh and cry and everything in between. He gets me mad enough to pull the nails out of a horseshoe with my teeth, but when he’s around, well, even the most ordinary things seem special.”
Tillie held up her doll for their inspection. “Doesn’t she look pretty in her store-bought dress?”
“She surely does,” Lorelei said.
“Her