Strolling over to the livery, Nichole decided to at least give her horse a roof. She unsaddled him and was rubbing him down when someone stepped between her and the lantern she’d lit.
“That’s my brother’s mount.” The low voice startled her with its less than friendly words.
She turned around to find Daniel standing behind her. He was thinner than she remembered and there was a hardness about him that removed all the boy she’d met less than a year ago. He wore a sleeveless shirt and his arms were powerful from the work he did as blacksmith. So much of his face was cut like Adam’s, strong and handsome, but his sandy blond hair was very different.
“I know,” she answered. “Wes and Adam sent me to find you. You may not remember me, but I was there the night the twins were born. I’m Nick.”
Daniel limped a few steps closer. “I remember,” he said with pain. “It was also the night my wife died.”
For a moment he stared at her, letting the pain of the memory hit her full as it must hit him every hour of every day. “What can I do for you?” he finally asked in a formal voice.
Nick thought of saying nothing. Daniel had his own life, his own pain, he didn’t need her. But if she left, Adam might not be able to find her.
“I need a place to stay for a few days.” She watched him closely. “You see, I-”
“All right,” he answered. “You can sleep in the loft in the house. I bunk out here half the time anyway.”
“Don’t you want to know why?”
Daniel shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome in my house for as long as you want to stay.”
Nichole watched him move away. The sadness that cocooned him made her want to cry. He seemed to have aged years in the months since his wife’s death.
She finished with her horse and followed the light to where she could hear him working. The sun hadn’t yet broken through but his work fire was already hot. She wondered if he’d worked all night. He sat at a bench twisting leather around metal, creating a harness.
“That’s fine work.” She moved closer, studying his excellent craftsmanship.
“Thanks,” he mumbled without looking up.
“You do a lot of these?”
“Some.”
She glanced about, trying to think of something else to say. The workshop was orderly. He was far more than a blacksmith. She saw all matter of smith work, including a few pieces of silver. “You’re up early, Daniel.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her. If she hadn’t understood his sorrow, she would have given up. But she did know the source of his pain, and she’d seen tonight how well he’d taken on the responsibility of the twins. He probably wasn’t yet twenty-one, yet he’d taken the load of a man.
She had never had time to learn the subtleties of conversation or how to give comfort. In her world a loss was a loss and no one spoke of it. But when she thought that she might never hold Adam again, she caught a glimpse of what Daniel must feel now.
Silently, she knelt in front of him and began straightening the leather straps he worked with. This she knew. Within minutes they were working together, making the tedious chore fly.
An hour passed. Nichole was so tired she could hardly stand, but she didn’t know how else to help him. He said only what was necessary and never smiled, but she could feel him relaxing at her side.
When the work was done he walked her back to the house without saying a word except thank you as she passed through the door. He silently cooked breakfast for Willow and her, but by the time the coffee boiled Nichole was curled into a ball sound asleep on the rug in front of the fire.
For three days his work pattern didn’t change. She awoke in the loft with Daniel already cooking breakfast. He ate very little, but played with the twins while Willow took her time eating and telling him every detail of her day’s plans. Then he’d leave, always asking if Willow needed anything. Nichole didn’t miss the kindness he showed the girl, and he’d never raised his voice at her. There seemed to be one hard rule. Willow never left the house without telling Daniel where she was going.
Since she had no dress, or desire to be with the women, Nichole followed Daniel to the barn each morning. Folks came by, but she noticed no one stopped to visit. After three days, Nichole had no trouble guessing why. Daniel never said more than a few words. Sometimes she’d help him, sometimes she’d just watch, but never did he make any effort to start a conversation with her.
On the fourth night of her stay a spring storm blew in from the west. Willow went to bed early with a twin nestled on either side of her, and Nichole was left alone in the house. She passed the time for a while listening to the wind, then glanced out to see the light still on in the livery. With the coffeepot half-full and two mugs in her hand, she ran through the rain to the side door of the barn.
At first, she didn’t see Daniel when she went inside. He was sitting in a corner of his workroom with his head on his knees like a child afraid of the rain.
When she entered, the storm slammed the door closed behind her and Daniel looked up with pain-filled eyes.
Nichole set the pot down and ran to him, thinking that he must somehow be hurt. “Daniel!” She knelt beside him. “Are you all right?”
Slowly he raised his head. “I hate the rain and the wind,” he whispered. “God, how I hate storms.”
“You’ve been drinking,” she said as she brushed the blond hair back from his damp face. His brown eyes were floating in tears.
“Not enough.” He turned away from her as if trying to curl inside a ball.
Nichole wasn’t sure what to do as she lifted the bottle beside him. The loneliness surrounding him was so thick she could taste it in the air, hear his screams in his very breath. She could feel his pain as real as one feels the fire when standing too close to the flames.
All she could think to do was to crawl inside the pain with him so he would at least have company in his sorrow. “Then let’s drink until we have drunk enough.”
She bit the cork off as she’d seen Wolf do a few times and took a swallow, then handed it to Daniel. He looked surprised but downed his share.
The liquor fired down her throat and exploded in her stomach. Nick opened her mouth wide trying to breathe, but she didn’t say a word. She’d made a decision to drink with him and drink with him she would.
An hour later the bottle was empty and the world looked fuzzy. “Come on.” She pulled Daniel up. “I’ll put you to bed.”
He’d downed twice his share and was in no shape to navigate the stairs to a pile of hay he used as a bedroom. “If I leave you down here, the good people of this settlement might find you. They seem nice enough, but Bible thumping and whiskey bottles don’t mix. I’d best hide you away.”
After several tries, they finally made it up the ladder. He fell in the hay, mumbling his wife’s name.
Nichole covered him with a blanket. “I wish I could help,” she whispered, realizing that helping him drink had not been one of her brighter ideas.
As she stood, he caught her hand. He didn’t say a word. Even drunk, he wouldn’t allow himself to ask, but she read his gaze in the flashes of lightning. He was asking her to stay.
Nichole wrapped another blanket around her shoulders and sat down beside him. Without a word, without touching her, he fell asleep.
For a long while, she listened to his breathing. He had a kind of loneliness inside him too deep for words. Leaning into the hay, she decided to rest a few minutes before heading back through the storm to the house. She couldn’t blame him for hating the storm, May had died during a storm. Nichole closed her eyes wishing it were Adam next to her and not his brother.