Page 31 of A Dangerous Heart
More tears slipped down Ben’s cheeks as he wailed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want Bullet to be sick.”
“That’s the thing about lying and covering up. Sometimes innocent people, or horses, get hurt.” Isaac pulled a hankie from his back pocket and offered it to Ben. “Even if no one is hurt, lying is still wrong.”
His eyes went to Eli.
Eli’s expression remained stubborn. “My pa says sometimes a good lie is the only thing to keep you out of trouble.”
“Eli!” Clare gasped. The words to reprimand him were on her lips.
Isaac stood. His gaze took in both boys. “If a thing is not true and right, even if it’s spoken by your pa…or a brother”—his eyes went to Eli—“you can’t heed the advice.”
Clare saw the moment Isaac’s own words registered on his face. Sure, he’d taken her and the boys up to his cabin so that they would be safe, but he’d been living this far away, isolated from his family, before she’d ever met him. What truth was he hiding? Their eyes tangled briefly. He frowned and turned his attention back to Eli and Ben.
“After the war, my pa left his past behind and moved here to Wind River Valley to make a new start. Told us boys that the Lord was good to us in giving us the land. And the McGraws should honor God by always living with honesty and integrity. Seems to me, your aunt is doing the same thing for you boys.”
Joy mixed with guilt. He’d bought her lies.
“My pa taught us boys that you make a reputation by your actions,” Isaac said.
Clare detected a fleeting trace of sadness on his face. An agony so intense it left her feeling heartbroken.
Isaac continued speaking, his calm composure back in place. He gently ran his hand down Bullet’s neck. The horse nuzzled up against Isaac’s shoulder.
“Bullet and I were on the trail of a man who lied about stealing items from people on a train—money, pocket watches, jewelry. He turned himself over to me in Beaver Creek. Said he knew he’d done wrong and wanted to make amends. He turned in everything.” Isaac gestured to the west, where the faint outline of the Wind River Range was visible. “He lives up there in the mountains, owns a little cabin where he traps, fishes, and hunts. He’s got a wife now and a son about your age, Ben. I consider him a friend.”
As Clare listened to Isaac’s story, hope bloomed like the tall autumn goldenrods she’d found growing behind the cabin. Ben’s face radiated admiration. Even Eli was listening, though he was pretending to stare at the chest on the wall.
This was what the boys needed. A strong man to lead them. A man of God. This was what Anne had wanted for them.
“A good man decides he’s going to tell the truth, even if it gets him in trouble. Swear to your own hurt. That’s what the Proverbs say.”
The words cut. Swear to her own hurt? Was that what she should do? Tell Isaac the truth—that her family name was a curse, tied to lawlessness and bloodshed? That she’d kept this from him, lied to him by omission, afraid that if he knew, his sense of justice would leave him no choice but to send her away? Because he would. He had to protect his own family.
Another proverb surfaced in Clare’s mind, one Anne’s grandfather used to quote.A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, loving favor rather than silver and gold.Anne had chosen to hitch herself to the Barlow name. And hergrandfather had taken his grief and disappointment to his grave. That’s what the Barlows brought, even to the people that loved them.
A good name is to be chosen. A good name is to be chosen. A good name is to be chosen.Around and around, those words circled in her brain. She’d come to Wyoming as a mail-order bride to give her nephews a good name. Her own conscience pricked.
You are a hypocrite, Clare Barlow.
Chapter 8
He was stalling. Matching his steps to Clare’s slower, even leisurely steps, when he could have arrived at the main house a quarter of an hour ago had he set the pace. Tonight was just another family dinner. He’d get through it. They’d sit and eat with his brother’s boisterous kids while his brothers talked about cattle and preparations for the coming winter. Rebekah and Kaitlyn would pry a little. What would Clare say? Isaac didn’t know how to explain what was happening between them. Friendship? But sometimes when she looked at him, he caught a flash of…uncertainty?
“I can’t wait to see Tillie.” Ben fairly skipped across a flat stretch of brown prairie grass ahead of the two adults. “She knows the best games to play.”
He whirled around like a tumbleweed caught in the wind to ask, “Do you think the kittens are old enough to hold now?”
How long had it been since they’d been to the main house? A week?
Isaac’s “not sure” came out a little gravely.
“Jo said we can pet the horses,” Eli said. He was more interested in horses than dogs or cats. He wasn’t the best rider. They’d have to work on that.
Isaac’s gut pinched. He wouldn’t be the one who taught Eli to ride. Maybe one of his brothers. Isaac might not be around that long. A restless feeling stirred inside him, and a voice in the back of his mind whispered it was time to move on. He’d thought about it more than once—going somewhere else, starting afresh where no one knew him or about his time with the U.S. Marshals. But he hadn’t been able to face abandoning his family. Not while Quade was causing trouble.
“Just be careful of that little black-and-white mustang,” Isaac warned them. “That one can be ornery. Might even try to take a bite out of you.” No doubt his brothers held the same sentiment about Isaac after their last exchange.
“I’m used to ornery things,” Eli muttered.
