Lara pondered the options. He wouldn’t have gone into town, and he wouldn’t have taken the road that led to Denver.
“East. It’s the only way that makes sense.”
Chapter Eighteen
The dusty road stretchedon, never-ending, eastward toward Grand Platte. If he kept up a good pace, Mitchell figured he could put enough distance between himself and Last Chance that by the time Clarkson realized he was gone, it would be too late.
He only hoped the man wouldn’t take out his frustrations on the family he’d left behind.
No. He wouldn’t. Clarkson would be too consumed with following him. With getting his revenge on the man he thought had betrayed him.
From Grand Platte, there were a hundred different ways he could disappear. And this time, he’d use an assumed name—one that Clarkson couldn’t use to track him down.
Noon came and went, and Mitchell didn’t pause to eat. He didn’t have much food with him anyway, besides some cheese he’d brought back to the bunkhouse after dinner the night before. He tried not to think of supper at the ranch, made even better now with more water available.
He tried not to think of Arlen and George, disappointed that he didn’t stay on.
Tried not to think of the children, who brightened his mood each day.
And he especially tried not to think of Lara.
What was she doing now? Did she think of him? He hoped not. He hoped she understood that he only needed her to leave last night, and that he didn’t mean what he’d said about her digging into his past.
Because she hadn’t. By all the grace in the world, she’d respected his need to keep the past in the past when he’d asked her, and she’d only teased out what she knew he needed to talk about—his family.
Mitchell’s heart ached as Trip trotted along the road. Leaving her was the hardest part of all of this. He hadn’t realized how much he’d grown to rely upon those daydreams of them spending a life together, living on the ranch, starting a family.
He hadn’t realized how much he loved her.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to push past those thoughts, but it was impossible. They demanded to be heard.
Did she feel the same way about him? Mitchell pressed the reins between his fingers, praying that she didn’t. Because if she didn’t, then this wouldn’t hurt as much for her. And he didn’t want her to hurt.
But if she did feel the same way . . . Would she wait for him? A tiny ray of hope bloomed in his chest. If she waited, and Clarkson was caught, he could return.
He frowned. That might happen, but even if Lara forgave him, Arlen and George wouldn’t. If they didn’t know his past already, they’d find out. And they would never welcome a thief back into their family.
