“Andreas is hurt…his knuckles black and blue, his left eye swollen shut—”
“He gave far better than he got. I’ve never seen anything like it. Five men against one, his fists pounding all of them. I had to shoot a gun into the saloon floor to get him to stop. I read a book once about Vikings going berserk in battle, and your brother sure looked how I imagined them. Thank God he wasn’t armed with a sword.”
Her faint smile warmed him, though Ingrid quickly sobered.
“Bring him back to us soon.”
Joshua nodded, undeniably missing the warm pressure of her fingers when she let go of his hand to pick up the reins.
Missing pretty much everything about her, he couldn’t deny that either, as the carriage rolled away.
Joshua frowned and turned back to the limestone jailhouse that adjoined his office.
It seemed the more determined he was to steer clear of Ingrid and her unsettling effect upon him, the more their paths crossed. Maybe he should have a deputy accompany Andreas when it came time to release him. Why had Joshua saidhewould bring her brother home?
* * *
Ingrid paced the front porch, twilight fading into night and still no sign of Andreas.
She was tempted to call for the carriage and head back to the jail, but all she had to do was think of those unshaven and unkempt prisoners to resign herself to waiting for him at the house.
Ingrid shuddered. The lust in those men’s eyes was difficult to forget, and Anita had been so upset by the experience that she’d gone upstairs early to bed.
Ingrid hated to think that Andreas might still be subjected to their rough company, but she was grateful at least that his cell wasn’t adjacent to Joshua’s other prisoners. What could they have said to her brother to make him take them all on? Why had Andreas gone to the Red Dog Saloon in the first place?
Ingrid heaved a sigh and sat down in a rocking chair, the night sounds of insects seeming to mock her impatience.
At eighteen, Andreas was a grown man, she reminded herself. Strapping, generally good-natured, hardworking, and resembling their father, Arne, so much with his handsome looks and thick, white-blond hair that Ingrid felt a sudden pang. She’d never known him to care for the taste of whiskey, though perhaps it simply made sense that he would seek out the camaraderie of other men after a long day’s work rather than sitting at home with his sisters.
Once again, Ingrid was gripped by the realization of how much their lives had changed since their mother, Lara, had died and they had arrived in Texas.
Kari happily married.
Herself, finally a schoolteacher.
Andreas soon to have his own blacksmith shop.
Anita determined to become the world’s greatest actress.
In her deepest heart, Ingrid doubted any of them would return to Minnesota, Walker Creek fast becoming their home. One day she would marry here, and have children, Ingrid suddenly thinking of the firm pressure of Joshua’s hand upon her arm as he’d escorted her and Anita from the jailhouse.
His stride strong and determined, Joshua drawing her close to him as if protecting her, which made her face grow warm at the thought.
His hand had felt so sure and strong, too, when he’d helped her into the carriage. Ingrid flushed even more deeply that she’d kept hold of him, wondering what he must have thought to have her clasping his hand for so long. She’d been so worried about Andreas—
“Ingrid?”
She gasped at the sight of Andreas slowly climbing the porch steps, astonished that she hadn’t seen him approach the house. She jumped up and ran to him, and enveloped him in a hug, though he uttered a groan when she squeezed him.
“Oh, Andreas, I’m sorry! Is it your ribs?”
“Yes, but Doc Davis said nothing was broken when he checked me out this afternoon. Just some bruises. He said I’d be sore for a couple days.”
Ingrid nodded, Andreas looking weary in the light emanating from the screened door, though she was grateful to see his left eye wasn’t as swollen. She glanced beyond him into the darkened street.
“Sheriff Logan’s not here,” Andreas said with weariness tinging his voice now, too. “I told him I was fine with walking home. I knew he wanted to go visit his son so I didn’t want to delay him. Let’s talk tomorrow, Ingrid. I just want to get some rest.”
“Yes, of course you’re tired,” she murmured, disappointment rippling through her as she held open the screened door for Andreas and accompanied him inside. She must have looked anxious because he squeezed her hand and gave her a half-hearted grin, and then left her to go upstairs.
