Ashleen felt a cold lump of dread sink deep in her stomach. "I see."
Garret paced away, avoiding her eyes. "We've both always known I'd have to ride out for good someday. Go off to find new things to draw, send back east." He scuffed the toe of his boot in the dust. "Could hardly do that tied to a patch of land."
Or a wife and children, Ash thought with a swift stab of sadness. She leaned against Cooley's warm withers, feeling drained, lost. Garret was ripping her heart out one word at a time, and yet even she, who searched for rainbows as tirelessly as Meggie searched for her doll, could hear the finality in Garret's voice, could see the stark resolve in those beloved features.
"Fact is, I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few days," he went on. "I'm behind hand with the commission I was working on before we met in West Port, and the newspaper I've been drawing for lately has about as much patience as that boy of yours. I've been thinking it might be better for everyone if we veer out of our way when we get to Three Forks. The next settlement is about forty miles from there. We could find you a new wagon guide, and I could—"
"Ride away forever." Ashleen closed her eyes, a sudden strange image taunting her—the image of the golden chalice upon the window ledge at St. Michael's, the sun glowing along its jeweled rim. If God had meant to devise some punishment for her great sin, no hell full of fire and brimstone could have cut her so deeply. She couldn't stifle a soft sound, rife with pain.
"Ash." Garret's voice was laced with torment. "I'm just trying to do what's best for everyone."
A shiver of anger worked through her, her chin jutting up, stubborn despite her anguish. "Like hell you are, Garret MacQuade."
He stared, stunned, his lips parting at the sound of her words. "Ash, listen to me—"
"I've heard enough to make me sick to my stomach already. I knew you had a nasty temper. I knew you were moody, and so blasted sullen sometimes you reminded me of Renny. But I never realized before that you were a coward."
His mouth thinned, his eyes darting away from her face. He jammed his hands in his pockets. "Maybe I am. Hell, I never told you different."
"No. You only told me you loved me."
"That was an accident." Garret's voice was low, strangled.
"An accident? Like spilling one of your paint pots, or breaking a piece of harness? Are you telling me that everything that happened between us the night we were together was a mistake?"
"I hurt you. I should have stopped things before they got out of hand."
"As I remember, there were two of us in the lean-to that night. I chose to come to you."
Garret gave a harsh laugh. "You were chasing after some dream you'd spun. Looking for some hero off taming dragons. I wanted to be that man for you, Ashleen. Wanted it so damn bad. But don't you see, I can't be. The dragons have already won."
"Only if you let them." Ashleen felt the faintest stirrings of hope as she heard the misery in his voice, the stark need. "Only if you run away. From me. From this." She reached out, taking his hands in hers. She stood on tiptoe, brushing his stiff lips with her own. His face twisted.
"For God's sake, Ash, don't."
"You can't stop me, Garret. Can't stop this. I know you love me. Give it a chance. Give us a chance. What we shared that night is more magical than any enchantment I could have dreamed of. Because it was real. I could feel it. In you. In me. Magic." She trailed her fingers down his rigid jaw, her eyes pleading, her throat tight.
"Don't you see, lady? That's why I have to go. It hurts too much. It scares the living hell out of me."
"What? Needing me? Wanting me?"
"Loving you. After my family was murdered I swore I'd never let myself hurt like that again. A part of me died the day I buried them. I killed it, Ashleen. On purpose. Because it was better to be alone forever than to leave myself open to so much pain again."
"You don't believe that, Garret. Not anymore. I saw you with Meggie. With the other children. And when you touched me—"
"When I touched you, Ashleen, I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anything in my whole damn life. But look at you. Look at you." He trailed his knuckles down her throat, took her hand in his, and turned it slowly against his palm. Her fingers looked slender, pale, dwarfed by his strong hand.
"My mother was like you—eyes always shining, laughing, teasing. She could never walk past without her reaching out to give me a hug or muss up my hair or drop a kiss on the top of my head."
"She must have loved you so much."
"Ma loved everyone. Hell, she even had a fox that would come and eat straight out of her hand. But most of all she loved my father."
Ash waited, sensing in Garret an awakening, a revelation of things he had kept hidden far too long.
"Her name was Lily, and she put me in mind of one," he said. "She was sweet-smelling and beautiful, her face always turned up to the sun. Kennisaw—and me, too, as I got older—we worried about her working so hard all the time. Pa always said she was strong as a little French horse. But even then I knew he only claimed that because he felt guilty as sin for dragging her away from her family, her friends, and all the fancy parties in Boston to grub on some dirt farm in Texas."
"Maybe she was glad to leave it all behind. Glad to follow him wherever his dreams led."
