Hazel swung her head up to stare at him. “Up a mountain?” she croaked.
He bent over in laughter. “I’m joking. But holding onto the reins tighter won’t do anything. Loosen your grip before your fingers cramp.”
Hazel tried, and yet she somehow felt much safer the tighter she held on. Maybe a distraction was whatsheneeded right now. But it was all she could do to stay up on the horse, much less come up with a topic of conversation.
Thankfully, the ride to the creek wasn’t very long, and Hazel gratefully let Wade help her down from Greta.
As the horses drank from the creek, Hazel drank in the scenery. It was the image one might find depicted in a painting. The creek babbled along slowly, the green pines and cottonwoods gave much appreciated shade, and above, rising far into the sky, were the mountains.
“Silver Creek. It runs much faster in spring,” Wade said, his eyes on the water. “Particularly when the snow is melting from the mountains.”
Hazel tried to imagine it, the sweet little creek turned into a magnificent river. “Have you ever been up the mountains?”
Wade followed her gaze above the trees. “Not very far.”
“I think I’d like to go up there some day. Not to the very top, of course, but as far as I could. I’d like to see what the world looks like from higher up. Just for a moment.” She glanced at him to see if he thought such a thing was possible.
He was watching her with undisguised curiosity. “You like it here more than I thought you would.”
“How would you know?” she said in a lightly teasing voice. “You didn’t read my letter.”
He smiled. “True. I suppose I was thinking of women in general. Not many have the desire to live in a place such as this.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Mrs. Drexel and Mrs. Trenton seem perfectly content.”
He frowned just slightly at the mention of their names, just as he had when she’d relayed the report that the Trentons hadn’t experienced any strange goings-on at their ranch.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly.
He nodded once, quickly, and then gestured at a smooth place on the ground nearby. “Do you care to sit?”
Hazel gathered her skirts and sank to the ground. Her legs were already beginning to ache from the ride here. “I fear I’ll be stumbling about tomorrow, particularly after our ride back. I ought to write my sister and tell her all about this. She’ll never imagine I rode a horse!”
Wade sat next to her, much closer than Hazel had expected. “Do you miss her very much?”
Hazel glanced out over the creek, trying not to think about how close his leg sat to hers, and how, if she leaned just to the left, she could have rested her head on his shoulder.
What would he do if she did just that?
Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she fixed her eyes on the creek and said, “I do miss Ada. She’s all the family I have left.” She wished she’d had a letter ready to send to her sister when they’d gone into town. She would be prepared next time. “We are very close in age, so we did everything together as children. How much younger was your brother?”
A flicker of something that looked like pain creased Wade’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Hazel said gently. “You don’t have to speak of him if it’s too much to bear.”
Wade shook his head, his own eyes on the creek now. “Cole isn’t dead. So far as I know anyway. I haven’t spoken with him in years.”
There was an edge to his voice, and Hazel couldn’t tell if it was sadness or anger or perhaps a little of both. She waited for him to say more, but as was his usual fashion, he remained silent. If she wanted to know, she’d have to nudge him along. And maybe it would help whatever emotion his face had betrayed if he spoke about his brother rather than keeping it inside. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
If she hadn’t been sitting so close to him, she’d never know how rigid he’d gone at her question. She pressed her lips together, forbidding herself from trying to take it back. He could answer it or not, but she wouldn’t apologize for wanting to get to know her husband better.
“My mother’s passing was a surprise to us all. My father wallowed in his grief. And my brother found trouble. I let it go until it became too much. Until I could see it affecting our pa. I gave him a choice—straighten up or leave. He left. Pa died soon after.” His voice was matter of fact, any feeling he had about the past gone—or buried.
Hazel drew in a deep breath, trying to imagine how awful she’d feel if she couldn’t at least write to Ada. “Do you miss him?”
He turned to her then, and there, hidden in his eyes, she saw a spark of guilt. “At times.”
She nodded. “You were holding your family together.” It was a statement of fact, not an excuse. Yet she hoped it would assuage some of the regret he held over his decision.
