Page 42 of The Outlaw and the Heir

"Now then, what's this face for?" she asked, surprising me by leaning in and cupping my chin in her hand.

"Oh!" I said, too surprised to hide it. "No, I...sorry, I went somewhere in my head for a minute. Nothing to worry about."

She held tight to my chin, turning my face and looking me over. "Don't go lying to me now. Those pretty blues don't hide everything you know, especially when someone knows what to look for."

"What were you looking for?" I asked wryly.

"Something of you, the real you," she said, smiling gently. "Who were you thinking of?"

"Naked people."

"Always so quick with a joke."

"Now, who said it was a joke?"

"I know grief when I see it, and I know what grief that never goes away no matter how many years pass feels like, and I saw that...who were they?"

"I..." The warm understanding in her voice had taken me completely off guard, and to my horror, I felt an altogether familiar sting start in the back of my eyes. There were several items on the list of things I didn't want to do while I was stuck at this ranch, and breaking down in tears was definitely in the top five, at least at the moment. "My parents."

"Mmm, yes, that would be the sort of loss you never really get over. Were you young?"

"Sixteen," I said, mumbling as I wilted under the intensity of her attention.

"Old enough to take care of yourself, but still a boy in ways."

"Sure. Can you let go of me now?"

She chuckled, releasing me and promptly turning back to her preparation. "Men are such silly creatures. You can go through so many injuries, but the moment anyone dares to come near your heart, you shrink away like they were holding a weapon out. The pain of the heart is no more painful than the pain of a broken leg; both need time to mend, and both may hurt even after they heal."

"Well, that kind of pain is mine and mine alone," I said, feeling more naked than I had back in the river. I had been eager enough to talk to someone perceptive that I’d forgotten just how double-edged that particular trait was in another person. She was clearly an empathetic and caring person, and I should have been better prepared for her to flip the script on me quickly. "It's not for other people to see. Well-meaning or not."

"You're as stubborn as Ambrose," she said with no malice but plenty of affection.

"I'm not sure how I feel being compared to him. And Iknowfor a fact he’d hate the idea of being compared to me."

"That's because you're both men and naturally stupid. I don't hold it against you. It's just how the Lord decided to make you. Perhaps to keep some balance in this world."

"Not sure how that's balancing anything, but...sure."

Sizzling filled the air and mingled with the smell of cooking meat. “So, I take it the two of you are getting along better then?"

"I...don't know about allthat," I said with a laugh, glad to have something to find humorous. "I think he's learned to tolerate me barely. And me? Well, I'm still his prisoner, so I'm not exactly rushing to make friends with him."

She hummed. “I can't hold that against you in good conscience. Whether it's right or not, a man being held against his will ain't supposed to be happy about it."

I shrugged. “I suppose. Depends on your definition of right."

"Would you have preferred a hangin'? Because that's what tends to be waitin' for those who run with gangs in these parts. Awfully surprised the sheriff didn't do just that with the lot of you."

"You know, he didn't feel the need to share his thoughts, so I couldn't tell you."

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't. Anyone would be lucky to have you as an advisor."

"See, you understand!"

She laughed. “Maybe it's foolishness that comes with old age, but maybe I'm not too far off the mark."

"Uh...pardon?"

---