“It’s just that my sisters and I have a plan. We’ll be starting a horse farm again, and they need my help. Faith and Lorelei are still so young. I can’t leave Rosie to raise them by herself. It’s not fair to her. I can’t abandon them when they need me.”
She was right. Of course she was right. But it didn’t make the weight crushing his chest seem any lighter. She was doing the right thing. Fulfilling her responsibilities. That was more than his own parents had done. This simply proved that she was everything he knew her to be—good and faithful and the woman he loved.
She was doing the right thing. If only his heart didn’t have to be the casualty.
Juniper’s chest ached as she walked back to the camp ... alone. After she gave Riley her answer, pain had hung so thick in the air between them. She’d scrubbed only a few plates before he told her to take the clean dishes back to camp and he would finish the rest.
He’d been kind about it, of course. Riley couldn’t be anything but a gentleman, giving and protecting no matter the cost to himself. That was one of the many reasons she loved him. One of the many reasons her heart was breaking now.
Why couldn’t she simply say yes to his proposal? Why couldn’t she be free to follow where her heart begged to go—to settle securely at his side on any adventure he wanted to take them?
But she wasn’t. Her sisters needed her. She lovedthemtoo and had committed to them. The bond the four of them shared—especially she and Rosie—had been forged through a lifetime of togetherness. Through pain and happiness, dreams and heartbreak. She’d known it from the time Mama and Rosie went away for the treatments that she had a responsibility to her family.
And she couldn’t turn away from them now, not when her sisters were all she had left.
Surely Riley understood. She’d seen in his eyes that he understood.
But she’d also seen the pain. The little boy who’d been scared and alone when he was kidnapped, then abandonedby his parents in all the ways that mattered after his return. She’d just done the same thing to him, told him by her actions that he wasn’t important enough for her to stay.
Oh, God. Why is this so hard? Why can’t both parts work together?Why did she have to say no to one love in order to accept the other?
Ahead of her, the figures around the campfire came clear. Lorelei and Faith bent low over something—the coyote, maybe. Faith was chattering, and it looked like they were feeding the animal its evening ration.
A swell of love for the girls washed through her. She’d helped raise them. During those dark days when Mama and Rosie were gone, she’d taken over the woman’s role in the house. Prepared meals and coaxed them to eat. Read books to them and made up games to distract them when they missed Mama. Taught them how to cut biscuits and sew on buttons. Rosie had done the same for her and so much more, and she’d tried to be the older sister to them that Rosie had been for them all.
Her focus tracked to that older sister, who sat a little apart with something in her lap. Her rifle, it looked like, taken apart as she cleaned it.
Rosie’s focus lifted, catching on her. With the firelight illuminating her face, it was easy to make out the lines of concern as she studied Juniper. How much could Rosie see? She’d not allowed herself to cry yet, so even if her sister’s gaze could pierce the night shadows, she wouldn’t see red, blotched skin. But it was impossible to hide the rending of her heart. The wound was too fresh.
Rosie dropped her attention back to the gun, gatheredthe pieces together, then laid them aside. Without a word, she pushed to her feet, and her intention came clear.
Rosie did see. And she was coming to find out what had happened.
No. Juniper couldn’t maintain the fingertip hold on her emotions if her sister started asking questions. But maybe that’s what she needed—her big sister to talk to. Rosie’s rational thinking would help set her straight and remind her of their plans. After all, they’d agreed at the outset of this journey that they would not form an attachment to any man. If only she’d held to that promise.
She paused for Rosie to reach her, and when they were near enough to touch, her sister gripped Juniper’s elbow and turned her away from the fire.
“Let’s go for a walk.” Rosie kept her voice quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear.
She allowed her sister to steer her, and thankfully Rosie led them in the opposite direction from the creek. She marched them up the slope with a determination that made this walk more of a cavalry charge than a stroll. Even that thought reminded her of Riley. He didn’t talk much about his cavalry days. Because they’d not impacted him as much as his life before that? Or had something happened that he wanted to forget about? Oh, how she longed to know everything about him.
When they were out of hearing range of the camp, Rosie stopped and spun her so they were facing each other. “What happened?”
She should be used to her sister’s to-the-point directness but being asked the question made her throat squeeze too tight to answer. “I...”
Rosie’s expression softened, but she didn’t speak. Just waited.
Juniper swallowed, searching for where to start. “Riley asked if I would stay with him. Marry him.” A new rush of heat attacked her eyes, and she fought to keep the tears back. She might not manage it this time.
“And?” Rosie’s voice came gently now. “What did you say?”
Juniper stiffened. Did she really have to ask? “I told him I couldn’t. I have a responsibility to you girls. We have plans. I can’t just leave you all and become a trapper’s wife, roaming the mountains with him for the rest of my days.” Though the idea, now that she put it into words, sounded like the happiest life she could imagine. Adventures with Riley every single day. Endless views of these majestic mountains.
She wrenched away those thoughts. They would only make her miserable.
Rosemary was watching her. “June.” She spoke that old familiar nickname in a quiet voice, one thick with something that felt like regret. Then she turned away, took two steps, and halted. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out into the darkness. That outline wasn’t the confident, protective woman she usually showed the world. This was the sister she used to be, back when they were girls and still trying to figure the world out. Before Mama passed and they’d had to grow up fully.
Rosie turned, and her hands dropped to her sides, her shoulders squaring. She’d made a decision. “You have to. Tell him yes, I mean.”
