"How long have you lived in these mountains? Did you grow up here?"
He shook his head. "We came from Kansas back in '58." He wasn't sure how far word had spread of the chaos in that state, but she likely had an idea why they'd left it.
She nodded. "Why the Montana Territory? Did you come for gold?"
Once more, he shook his head. "Dat wanted to come west, away from all the politics and fighting. My parents decided to load up the wagon and ride until they found a place they wanted to stay."
She was looking at him, but he didn’t look back. "That must have taken a lot of courage."
Though the softness in her voice pulled at him, he shrugged. "Anything would have been better than staying in Kansas."
She didn't answer, just turned back to watch the scenery. Maybe they'd done enough small talk for a while.
A few moments later, she turned back to him. "You know what you need?"
He nearly snorted. "What's that?" He couldn't imagine what she was thinking.
"A dog."
His chest tightened. They'd had a dog. A puppy Two Stones brought them during their first winter on the mountain. They'd all loved Skipper, and when Lucy asked to take him with her when she left with that lazy, scoundrel of a husband, Jericho couldn't tell her no.
Skipper might have been the only part of home Lucy would take.
He'd loved seeing the dog every time he went to visit her. To try to help her. But that last time, the dog hadn’t been there. And Jericho hadn't had the strength to ask what happened to him. Not with all the loss the children were already suffering.
"Why would I need a dog?"
She gestured to the woods around them. "For safety. Protection. Companionship."
He shook his head. "I don't need a dog for protection." A rifle worked much better against a grizzly.
She tilted her head, those bright blue eyes catching his. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought it would be nice to have a friend to keep you company on these long rides."
He shrugged. "Maybe someday." Skipper used to ride along on trips to Missoula Mills. The memory stung a little.
"Lillian misses her dog."
Jericho's chest clenched, and he looked back at her, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and emotions and pain those words brought.
She met his look squarely. Earnestly.
He swallowed, working to summon his voice. His words came out in a hoarse rasp. "What did she say?"
Her eyes turned glassy. "That Skipper was her best friend. That he went everywhere with her and Sean. He kept them safe."
Something in her voice with those last words made him sit straighter. "Safe from what? What happened?"
Her mouth pressed in a sad smile. "I didn't ask. I thought it might be better if she didn't relive it."
Probably so.
He turned back to the horses with a sigh. "I'm glad Skipper went with Lucy. I'm glad he helped make things a little better for them." It had certainly been more than Jericho managed. He guided the team around a boulder the size of the wagon, their harness squeaking in a steady rhythm.
"You missed him here on the ranch though, didn't you?" Her soft voice reached in where he'd been trying not to go. But instead of raising up pain, it soothed the ache somehow.
He swallowed again. "Skipper was a good friend."
She didn't answer, and the quiet helped. Relieved some of the pressure in his chest. One by one memories of the pup slipped in. "He used to sit on my feet under the table during meals. Jude always complained that I fed him scraps, but I didn't. Sometimes I'd reach my hand down and he'd lick it, then I'd scratch behind his ears.”
