He shook his head. “I didn’t meanhere. I mean why come west?”
“Sorry. My mind was elsewhere and nowhere. Hmm. Why did I come? Well, there was the invitation, of course, and I was curious about Twin Star. Until my train left the station, I’d never been very far outside the city, so there was the prospect of adventure. I wanted to see Fiona. She never had occasion to write many letters, and it’s difficult for her, so I wasn’t surprised that her correspondence was sporadic, but that she had so little to tell me was concerning. Your father wrote to me more often than she did.”
“Why is it difficult?”
“What?”
“You said writing letters is difficult for her. Why? It’s something more than lack of practice and opportunity.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. She wouldn’t like you knowing.” She saw it on his face, then. The understanding. “Fiona’s never had schooling beyond what she was able to acquire in the theater. She learned to read because there was always a script lying around and someone who cared enough to help her. It was not as important, I suppose, that she learn to write. That came later, much later, and it still frustrates her.”
“But not you.”
“No. I attended a parochial school. Fiona insisted, and she paid for it.”
“Fiona?”
“Hmm. She had regular roles by the time I was ready for school. She supported us.” She shrugged. The blanket slipped off one shoulder and she drew it back. “So that’s why I came. There were lots of reasons, but only one of them put me on that train. I needed to see her, to know that she was well. Iunderstand why Thaddeus invited me, and I understand now why she didn’t, but that’s not important to why I came.”
“You love her.”
“You say that as if it surprises you. She’s maddening and critical, impulsive and selfish, but she’s also frightened and vulnerable and has to protect a heart that’s as soft as pudding. Of course I love her.”
Phoebe blinked, sat up straight. “That’s it! That’s what I said to her that put her in a snit.” She saw Remington preparing to ask a question, and she shook her head quickly to forestall him. “She and I had just left the milliner’s. We couldn’t come to consensus on a hat that she thought was appropriate for me. I’m afraid I was entirely disagreeable. I was trying to make amends for my behavior when she said something that struck me as so absurd and so very like her that I realized it was hopeless. I said something like, ‘Oh, Fiona, I do love you, you know,’ and she stopped right there and asked me if I meant it.”
“And you told her...”
“That’s just it. I’d said the words so offhandedly that I didn’t know what she was asking about. I swear I didn’t. No wonder she was in such a mood. She accused me of being cruel.” Phoebe rubbed the furrow in her brow with her fingertips. “Do you recall that afternoon?” she asked. “We came across you not long after, relieved you of your parcels.”
“I do remember,” he said. “She called you a cat.”
Phoebe nodded. She closed her eyes and used a thumb and forefinger to smooth her eyebrows. “I have to speak to her. She doesn’t believe me. Somehow I have to make her believe I meant it.” She dropped her hand, opened her eyes, and stared at Remington. “She makes it so difficult to like her sometimes that I probably don’t tell her nearly often enough that I love her.”
Remington listened, nodded, and then pointed to the window. “I understand you feel some urgency to set things right, but it’s not going to happen today. Old Man McCauley built this place close to the stream. Most of the time that was a convenience, but right now that stream’s on a rapidrise and will be spilling over its banks in an hour or so if this rain keeps up. The cabin rests off the ground, so that’s good, but the stone pillars that support it are not as fixed as they used to be.”
“And that would not be good,” she said.
“No.” He regarded her candidly. “That would be an understatement.”
Chapter Eighteen
Phoebe rose and went to the window. She set her hands on either side of her eyes, pressed her forehead to the glass, and peered out. The sky was dark, ominous, but it was hours yet to nightfall and she could clearly see the stream and hear the rushing water. She looked over her shoulder at Remington. “Should we leave?”
Before he could answer, another bolt of lightning struck the ground somewhere nearby. Phoebe jumped back from the window and clamped her hands over her ears. It dulled the crash of thunder but did nothing to blunt the rumble that went through the cabin. She had just lowered her hands when there was a second crack, markedly different from the first. The floor shuddered this time, but not the walls. “What was that?”
“Tree. Lightning must have hit one.”
“So maybe we shouldn’t leave.”
“Come here.” He patted the space beside him, the one she had left when he told her about the rising water. “We’re not going anywhere. Do you recall that shallow river we waded through on our way here?” When she nodded, he went on. “That will be running too deep and fast for the horses to cross safely. They’ll lose their footing. We’re better off here.”
“What about the foundation? What if it buckles?”
“I’ll keep an eye on the water’s approach. We’ll have enough warning to get out and climb to higher ground.” He indicated the space beside him again. “I wouldn’t take you out in that storm now. Bullet might manage, but your mare would spook, same as you. We’re safer here.”
Phoebe joined him. “Turn around,” she said. “Or look somewhere else, anywhere else, but not at me.” She threw off the blanket and began to unbutton her vest. “I mean it, Remington.”
“Let me add a log before you get any further.” She paused, and he tossed more wood into the stove. When the fire blazed, he shut the grate and lowered the brim of his hat until it effectively covered his eyes. “Let me know where you’re done.”
