The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(12)

Again Quillan nodded. It would do no good taking Masterson to task. He had a political mind, and to him the welfare of Crystal far exceeded Carina’s justice. Quillan tipped his hat and continued across Central. Turning left, he headed for the livery.

“Good mornin’, boyo.” Alan Tavish huddled in a rocker next to the stove, fragrant pipe smoke circling his head.

“Good morning, Alan.” Quillan took in his bent, arthritic form. Alan seemed more contorted than ever, and Quillan’s heart seized at the thought of leaving him. With Cain gone, he’d drawn close to Alan, and he worried about the old man. Who would check in on him beyond their livery needs, stay to chat, see that he took care of himself?

Quillan dropped to a barrel beside the rocker.

“How’s the lass?”

Quillan smiled. Carina would always be “the lass” to Alan. “Better since she’s following doctor’s orders.”

Alan grinned. “Bit of vinegar there.”

“A bit.” Quillan raised his brows.

Alan pointed with the stem of his pipe. “And you?”

Quillan knew which part of his well-being Alan addressed. “I’m trying, Alan. Courting her as you said I should.”

Alan patted Quillan’s thigh, his crumpled knuckles upraised like spider legs. “It’ll do ye good, boyo.”

Quillan leaned his head back to the wall. What he wanted most was to grab Carina into his arms and kiss her breath away, then know her as he had on their wedding night. But he had hurt her once, taken her in anger, and he was determined not to even kiss her again until he’d mended that. Carina had to want his touch, his kiss. Sometimes it seemed she did already, but it was more likely his own desire speaking.

“I need to reach D.C., Alan.”

His change of subject had little effect on the old ostler. Alan was used to his close keeping of personal thoughts.

“Ye know where he is.”

“I wired him in Northfield, but the lines are down.”

Alan shrugged. “Send a wire from Fairplay.”

“I’d have to get there.”

“Aye.”

Quillan shook his head. “I just left Carina. How would it look to go again?”

Alan’s silence said too much. Never worried about that before. Ye must be smitten sure, lad. And it’s about time. Quillan could hear it well enough without Alan speaking aloud.

“Then I’d have to wait in Fairplay for a reply.” Quillan raised his hands, frustrated.

“Aye.”

Quillan dropped his hands to his lap. “She won’t understand. You should have seen her.” He recalled her face as he’d told her he was going to Leadville with Makepeace. The twisting started inside him. Ah, that was the root of it now. Leaving Carina alone with Alex Makepeace. He could hardly take the man along this time.

“She’ll bide.”

Oh, she’d bide all right. With Makepeace to make the biding easier. Never had Quillan felt such possessive malice. But then, he’d never loved before, never allowed himself to love. “I can’t do it, Alan. If Makepeace—”

“Ah, boyo. ’Tis a jaundiced eye ye have.”

“You said yourself she could love him and would if—”

“That was before ye put your trust in the Almighty.”

Quillan sat silently. How did Alan know? Did it show on the outside, the surrender? And what exactly was Alan saying? That God would keep Makepeace away from Carina? Lord? Quillan searched his heart. How did faith work? All the sermons his foster father had spoken, all the truths Cain had touted; had they told Quillan how to live? How to handle this jealousy, this doubt, this aching fear that he’d lose Carina and it would be his own fault?

“I don’t know what to do, Alan.”

Alan drew long on his pipe, puffed out the smoke. “Pray, Quillan. Ask God. Then trust He’ll see to your business better than you.”

The thought of turning Carina’s safety, Carina’s fidelity, over to God, even the God to whom he’d surrendered in his father’s cave . . . It was easier to surrender himself than Carina. He shook his head. “I’ve made a mess of it.”

“ ’Tis bought and paid for ye are, Quillan. Whatever ye’ve done or failed to do, sure Christ the Savior has taken it on himself.”

Why didn’t it feel that way? If God forgave him, if Carina forgave, why couldn’t he forgive himself? Just the thought of telling Carina he had to leave town again brought a burning shame. She’d known before he spoke the last time; she had expected it, seen it coming—and why not? It’s all he’d given her. His back.

But without D.C.’s okay, he couldn’t go forward with the sale. And with the lines down . . . He sighed. Mae had told him to learn to be still. Alan said pray. Maybe today he could do that much. He leaned forward and patted Alan’s shoulder. “Thank you, old man.”

Alan covered his hand with his dry, callused palm. “Seek Him first, and the rest will come.”

Quillan nodded. The feelings he had for Alex Makepeace were certainly not rooted in God. And he couldn’t let those feelings rule his decisions. Maybe he would do better to learn God’s mind in it. He left the livery and returned to Carina’s room, hushing Sam’s eager greeting. Carina was still sleeping, and he stood for a moment looking down on her and wondering how he could have been such a fool.