Chapter Thirteen
LEVI RUBBED THE EXHAUSTIONfrom his face and lifted the binoculars again. The beginnings of spring had arrived, but a strong chill still nipped the air, making his fingers and nose go numb.
It was nearing six o’clock in the morning, although the sky still clung to the dark. He had to make his way home, another night spent uselessly watching the ranch house that Prather seemed determined never to leave again.
The only thing that consoled Levi was the fact that Prather clearly hadn’t left for good while he wasn’t watching. Regular visitors, scowling and rough around the edges, still came to and from the house.
Levi shook his head as he put the binoculars away. Either Prather was paying the Coopers handsomely for their hospitality, or he’d given them no choice in the matter. Neither was a particularly good option for the couple.
He stifled a yawn as the horse meandered along the creek. At least the snow was gone—for now. The mountains were fickle, and Levi knew it could snow again at any time until summer had well and truly arrived. He was halfway home, envisioning a warm breakfast and a catnap once the livestock was fed, when he heard the loud snap of branch.
Wide awake now, Levi halted the horse. Pistol at the ready, he glanced around quickly, and then more slowly, grateful to thegrowing light. He held his breath, straining to hear anything that sounded out of place.
Another branch snapped, and then a rustling sound came from the trees somewhere behind him. Heart in his throat, Levi raised the revolver and waited. Whoever was there had the advantage, but he wouldn’t go down unaware.
“Come out of there and face me,” he shouted.
But the trees remained still and silent. A minute passed, and then another.
He carefully let out a frustrated breath. Levi knew he had two choices: turn for home and hope for the best, or move forward into the trees and see what was there.
Deciding that being shot from the front was preferable to being shot from behind, he nudged his horse toward the trees. The new day’s sunlight hadn’t yet penetrated the sturdy evergreens and leafless cottonwoods.
Levi moved slowly, but it didn’t matter.
No one was there.
He lowered the pistol and bit back a curse. He should have felt relief. No one had shot at him, after all. But he couldn’t shake the feeling thatsomeonehad been in these trees, watching him.
He crossed through to the opposite side, emerging into the valley. To the south, the land rose in a hill, blocking the view of anyone who might have been riding in that direction.
Levi pressed his lips together and turned back toward home. He was on his own property now, and there was no reason to hide himself. He made good time, and arrived at the house just as Rebecca was setting aside a plate of hearty bread, butter, and blackberry preserves for him.
“You had an early morning,” she said as the children scurried around them, attending to the chores she’d laid out for them. If one could call Johnnie blowing dust from the dustpan into Emmy’s face doing chores, that was.
Rebecca crossed the room, yanked the dustpan from Johnnie’s hand, and pointed at the corner where the children’s beds were. It was a silent direction to sit alone as a punishment. She set the dustpan down and returned her attention to Levi.
“I did,” he said carefully. He’d slipped out of bed soon after midnight, which was, he supposed,morning.
She searched his face, as if she were waiting for further explanation. When he gave her none, she bit down on her lip and pointed toward the plate. “I set aside some breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
He was ravenous.
As he ate, the children finished with their chores, and Rebecca sent them outside to play—including Johnnie, who first received a stern talking-to. Levi had just taken his last bite of bread when she sat down in the chair opposite his at their new table.
She clasped her hands on the table, her eyes on him. Levi had the distinct sensation that he was about to be subject to the same kind of talking-to that Johnnie had just received.
Perhaps it was best to address her concerns head-on.
“You awoke last night and wondered where I’d gotten off to, I take it,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
