She stopped directly in front of him, providing him full view of her unwashed face and the dirt coating her skirt. Thunderation. He had to figure out a way to get her to take baths.
“Hold out your hand,” she insisted.
“Not in a hundred years.”
“Come on, you big ’fraidy cat.” Her smile widened and seemed to bring with it all the sunshine of the early November day.
He reached out and tweaked her nose. He didn’t have time right now for her practical jokes, but he did want her to know he cared about her.
“I promise you’ll like what I have this time.”
“Heard that before.”
“This time I mean it.”
He mussed her hair and then turned back to Brody who, thankfully, was still standing in the same place.
Before he could resume their conversation, Ivy thrust something into his face. “It’s a letter from Wyatt.”
Flynn froze.
As Ivy waved the envelope, he caught sight of his brother’s bold handwriting. Wyatt must have received his letter about Ma’s death and decided to send his condolences.
But as usual, it was too little effort, too late.
Frustration burned inside Flynn, frustration that had been simmering since the day Wyatt had walked away from Rusty and the farm and left Flynn to be the responsible one and deal with all the problems. While Wyatt gallivanted all over God’s green earth, Flynn had been left to protect his ma and help raise the kids. And he was left trying to figure out what to do now that they were practically homeless.
He stared at the letter, then spun and strode toward the door as fast as his limping gait would allow. “I don’t care one whit what Wyatt has to say.”
“He’s got a ranch in Colorado and wants us to move there and live with him.” The words slid out of Ivy’s mouth faster than butter sliding off hot sweet corn.
“A ranch?” Dylan hopped off the stall and spit out the piece of hay, his face lighting with boyish enthusiasm. “Where we get to be cowboys?”
“The last thing we’re doing is moving in with Wyatt.” The very core of Flynn’s being protested the prospect of relying upon Wyatt. “He’s never cared about us before, and there’s no reason for him to start now.”
Ivy’s expression fell. “He said he’s got a wife who has a little sister about my age living with them.”
“It don’t matter—”
“A ranch, Flynn!” Dylan’s voice rose. “Just think about it. We’d get to ride horses and raise cattle and fight Indians.”
“He says there’s plenty of space and lots of work for every one of us,” Ivy added. “And he really wants us to come, especially Brody.”
Brody. Flynn’s attention snapped back to his brother, who’d resumed his work cleaning the stalls. In his letter to Wyatt, Flynn had briefly mentioned Brody’s intention of joining the war efforts when he turned eighteen along with Dylan’s interest. Flynn wasn’t sure why he’d said anything, other than maybe attempting to make Wyatt feel guilty for being gone. Or perhaps he’d wanted Wyatt to know the pressure he was under in raising the kids, pressure Wyatt had run away from.
Ivy took out the letter and scanned it. “He says he don’t have a lot of extra money to help with the passage west, but that he’ll do what he can.”
Flynn’s backbone stiffened. “I don’t need Wyatt’s money.”
“Then that means we’re going?” Dylan’s eyes widened.
“Please, please, please.” Ivy was standing next to Dylan, their two young faces turned up to him, eagerness and excitement radiating there.
“We don’t have nothing left for us here,” Dylan said. “Nothing holding us back.”
Was Dylan right? Was there really nothing holding them back? Flynn’s mind flashed with the image of Helen’s face and the tears she’d shed the day he ended their relationship and told her he didn’t want to get married. It had been the day after Ma died from another awful childbirth, the day he vowed he wasn’t ever gonna get married and put a woman through the torture of birthing.
In the months of nightmares since, his resolve had only strengthened. He’d decided the Lord Almighty had given him the responsibility in raising Ivy, Dylan, and Brody. That was enough for him. But it still didn’t make the parting with Helen any easier, especially whenever he saw her at church and she watched him with hopeful eyes, as if he’d eventually change his mind and marry her after all.
“Rusty wants us gone.” Ivy glanced nervously toward the barn door.
“I think I know that well enough.” Since the day of his broken hip, Flynn had stopped being afraid of Rusty. But he’d never stopped hating the man for the way he’d ruined their family. And now stealing the farm from them.
“I’m sure Colorado and those mountains will be mighty fine.” Dylan slicked back his hair. “And besides, out there we’d be real far away from the war. That’s what you want, ain’t it? For me and Brody to be far away so we can’t enlist?”
Brody’s too-small shirt stretched against his muscles. He worked silently, clearly pouting over Flynn’s decision not to let him join the fighting. Maybe it would be best to go west where the lure of adventure and the prospect of a new life could help Brody forget all about the war.
Watching Flynn’s face and reading his decision, Dylan grinned, well aware of his charm and the fact that he could sweet talk a mule into doing a song and dance.
Flynn held out a hand to Ivy.
Ivy gave him the letter and then hopped up and down. “Does that mean we can go?”
“It means I’ll read the letter.”
Dylan and Ivy exchanged grins. They knew him too well, especially that he cared about his family more than anything else. If going west would save Brody, he’d do it. In fact, nothing—not even his estrangement with Wyatt—would stop him from doing the right thing.
Jody Hedlund is the bestselling author of over thirty historical novels for both adults and teens and is the winner of numerous awards, including the Christy, Carol, and Christian Book Awards. Jody lives in Michigan with her husband, busy family, and five spoiled cats. Visit her online at jodyhedlund.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Jody Hedlund
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Contents
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About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
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