“Why do you think I’ll go through with it?”
Elizabeth blew out a breath. “Because you promised Netta—and Sue. And you don’t break promises. Especially one that gives you the chance to make up for what your father did.”
After that, Elizabeth didn’t speak at all.
She didn’t have to. Bringing up his father was a punch below the belt that left him feeling helpless. Despite what Sue thought, he’d always felt Netta and Elizabeth had forgiven Joe. What if he was wrong? Did Elizabeth hate his father? Would she hold him accountable for Joe’s sins?
He fought the urge to throw the rake to the ground, push past Elizabeth and get the hell out of here, take one of the trucks and drive.
He could abandon it somewhere up north. Go deep into the woods.
Disappear.
Down the row, he heard Avery talking to Hope, and he swallowed down the frustration burning in his throat. He caught Elizabeth watching him, her expression almost pitying.
He set the pitchfork aside as carefully as he could. “Need some air,” he growled and moved for the stable door again, cursing the necessity to stay close to the others. He stood outside it, took a few deep breaths and got himself under control.
The morning seemed endless, and when their chores were done, Walker led the way to the bison pasture like he and Avery always did to check on the herd. It wouldn’t be the same with Elizabeth and Hope trailing them, but he hoped a little time with the herd would put things in perspective.
Avery walked ahead, eager to see Champ cavort around its mother. Walker wished he could speak to her alone, but Elizabeth stuck close.
“That’s a healthy calf,” she said as they approached the fence.
“He really is beautiful,” Avery said. When Champ got too rambunctious and nearly tripped over its own feet, a fleeting smile quirked her lips. “Aren’t you?” she called out to the animal. “Aren’t you beautiful?” She stepped along the pasture fence, getting closer to it. Hope followed her. Walker noticed she’d taken on an almost protective role, placing herself between Avery and Elizabeth whenever she could.
“That girl feels things too much,” Elizabeth muttered.
Avery was crooning to the calf now, trying to entice it closer.
“Maybe she feels the right amount,” he countered in an equally low tone. “Maybe we should all feel so strongly.”
Elizabeth studied him. “I think—”
“Walker! Avery!” a familiar voice trilled from some distance behind them.
“Expecting someone?” Elizabeth turned and her eyebrows shot up. Walker knew why. That was Maud Russell’s voice, and Maud Russell could be a shock to anyone’s system. He braced himself as the stout older woman and her husband hurried their way, waving and calling out.
“Oh, my God, they’re even worse in person,” Elizabeth said.
“They’re good people.” Walker didn’t want to think about Elizabeth watching the show enough to know who Maud and James Russell were. They’d appeared on a number of episodes but were by no means on every week.
Had Elizabeth watched Base Camp front to back, studying each episode to determine just how far his relationship with Avery was progressing? Had she balanced her need to finish her work in Siberia with knowing she had to get back to Montana before he married someone else?
The idea of it made his skin crawl.
“How can they live like that?” Elizabeth asked.
He knew what she meant. While the women of Base Camp wore their gowns to signify their dedication to their various creative pursuits—and as part of running a Regency-inspired bed-and-breakfast—the Russells had simply decided they preferred the Regency to the current age and went about life as if they were living in it.
James and Maud Russell attended every Jane Austen re-enactment they could. They lived in a true manor-size house, with kitchen staff, and drove everywhere they possibly could in a carriage. Their outsized personalities took over any social situation, and they loved to throw parties and include the inhabitants of Base Camp.
Their arrival freed him of having to answer Elizabeth’s question. As far as he could tell, the Russells were experts at creating the reality in which they wanted to live.
He wished he was.
Avery left her post at the pasture fence and came forward to give them both hugs. “Maud, James, good to see you.” Was it Walker’s imagination, or did she cling to Maud a little longer than usual?
“We’re hosting a small get-together tonight,” Maud said without preamble and beamed at them, as if assured they’d be as thrilled to receive the news as she was to pass it on. “I do hope you’ll join us. And I see you have a guest with you. Please, by all means, join us tonight,” she told Elizabeth. “I’m Maud Russell, and this is my husband, James.”
“This is Elizabeth Blaine, a friend of my family,” Walker supplied. “She grew up on the reservation, like I did.”
“Wonderful! You will come, won’t you?”
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said shortly. “I’m not much of a partygoer.” She could barely hide her distaste at the Russells’ elaborate costumes, and Walker had the urge to nudge her to remind her of her manners. “I’ll be at the bunkhouse,” she told Walker and strode off before he could tell her they were supposed to stay with their groups. He relaxed when he saw Boone and his crew meet up with her not far away. Boone turned, waved at Walker and moved on with her at the center of his work party.
“Well,” Maud said, looking after her. “One doesn’t like to see such diffidence in a young lady. She’ll wind up a spinster with an attitude like that.”
Avery covered up a choked exhalation with a cough. Caught Walker’s eye, flushed and turned away. Maud patted her on the back solicitously. “Do you have something in your throat, dear?”
“I’m… fine.”
“Never mind, my love,” James said to his wife. “We’ll still have plenty of company without her. But you make sure your friend knows she’s always welcome,” he added
