Free Linda Ford by Cranes Bride Page B

shoulders. As Crane watched, Ted pitched a rock into the river, splashing water in Betsy’s face, forcing her to draw back.
    Crane held his breath as she stumbled and righted herself. She took a step toward the shore. Ted threw another rock and forced her back again. The keening sound raced through Crane’s veins. Crane’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth together. He eased toward the pair, then pulled back as Maggie broke through the trees. She skidded to a stop behind Ted, her hands clenched, her mouth widening. Her gaze flicked from Ted to Betsy, and she took a deep breath.
    “Ted, Betsy,” she called, as if trying to locate the children. “Where are you? It’s about time to leave.”
    The handful of rocks slipped from Ted’s fists, and he plopped down on a boulder, looking detached and disinterested.
    Betsy struggled toward shore.
    “There you are,” Maggie crooned, stepping into the river to help Betsy. “You best be careful around the river. It can be dangerous.” She held the child’s hand.
    Ted studiously avoided looking in their direction.
    “We wouldn’t want anything to happen.” Her voice carried a hard, warning note. “Would we, Ted?”
    Slowly he turned toward her. Brother and sister stared at each other. Crane couldn’t see Ted’s expression, but he could see the set of Maggie’s shoulders and the challenge in her face.
    Just when he thought Maggie would have to relent, Ted moved his head. It was barely a nod, but Crane sighed.
    She smiled grimly. “Then let’s get ready to go.”
    Betsy clung to her hand as they hurried back to the campsite. Ted waited a moment, then jerked to his feet and followed.
    His fists clenched at his side, Crane watched until they were out of sight. It was several minutes before he led the horses to the campsite, where Maggie had built up the fire to dry Betsy’s clothes. Crane moved slowly and deliberately, his calm exterior giving no indication of his troubled thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he studied Ted, but the boy sat on his former perch, peeling a branch and looking as ordinary as an April shower.
    As they rode west, Crane’s thoughts knotted, again and again replaying the scene at the river. He barely heard Betsy’s chatter or Maggie’s replies. He’d have to keep a more careful eye on Ted and wait to see what the boy was made of.
    “I recollect the day you was born,” Maggie said to Ted. “After you was washed, the midwife wrapped you up and put you in my arms while Ma rested. I remember Pa said, ‘I reckon he’s going to be as much your baby as anybody’s.’ ” She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “You were so sweet. You was smiling before you were more’n a few days old. Ma said it was just gas, but Pa watched you and said, ‘I declare. He does seem to know when it’s Maggie talking to him. There’s something special between the two of them.’ ”
    Crane knew what Maggie was doing, trying to bring the boy out of himself and back to the child she remembered. But thinking of the way Ted had treated Betsy, Crane wanted to warn Maggie the brother she once knew might be forever gone.
    “Ted,” she continued, “Do you remember the time Ma and Pa decided to take us on a picnic down to the river, and Pa made sure you could swim good—then he hung a rope from that big tree and taught us how to swing over the river, and jump in?”
    Crane turned to look at Ted where he rode behind his sister. Expecting to see him with head ducked as usual, Crane was startled to see Ted’s face lifted to watch Maggie. Crane stared. Perhaps something was redeemable in this child after all.
    “Your pa sounds like a right nice man,” Betsy said, her voice full of awe.
    Maggie nodded. “He was until Ma died, and he took to the bottle. After that he changed.” Her voice hardened. “I guess you can never be certain someone won’t change from one day to another as they ride down the trail.”
    Crane sat up straight. He didn’t have to look