had put her through, she still held to the memory of the early days of her marriage when sheâd been so happy. Even now the thought of how her eyes had sparkled for a moment, reliving a happier time, made him feel as if a hammer had crushed his heart. His mother and little Eli, his brother. Gone too soon.
He cleared his throat and swiped at his eyes. No need to think about those things now. This was homecoming day, but it was different from what heâd dreamed about when he was a boy. Heâd come back alone.
Straightening in the saddle, he spurred the horse forward and concentrated on the road twisting through the valley he loved. All around him were the sights and sounds heâd longed for, but he focused on getting home and seeing the place heâd left twenty years ago.
When he pulled the horse to a halt at what had once been the cabin where heâd lived, his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. It was worse than heâd expected. The skeleton of a cabin sat near the tulip poplar tree heâd climbed as a boyâbigger now than he remembered. The houseâs roof had long ago succumbed to the forces of nature and had caved in. A few timbers marked the spot where it had once been. Weeds grew across what had once been a yard.
Even in its best days the cabin hadnât been much, but it could have been if his father had concentrated on making a life for his family instead of spending his time in a drunken stupor. The old hatred welled up in his heart, and he whispered the plea heâd prayed every day since he could remember. âGod, donât let me be like him. Make me a better man.â
The promise heâd made his mother flashed into his mind, and he climbed down from the horse and tied the reins to a sapling. Taking a deep breath to slow his racing heart, he headed around the side of the house. Had the mountain laurel plant survived the years?
His gaze drifted to his feet, and a warning flickered in his head. The weeds along what used to be a path had been trampled. Someone else had passed this way not long ago.
With hesitant steps, he inched forward. The knee-high weeds swished against his legs. He caught sight of his motherâs plant that now towered higher than his head, and he stopped in amazement. It wasnât the bloom-covered bush that made his breath catch in his throat. It was a young woman who appeared unaware of his presence. With her arms outstretched and her face turned up to the sun, she whirled in circles in front of the mountain laurel bush while saying something in a language he didnât understand.
Her bare feet hammered the hardened earth around the plant in a pounding rhythm. Pink blooms from the mountain laurel bush ringed the top of her head and several more protruded from the mass of black hair that reached below her shoulders.
She moved with the grace and elegance of a queen, and he thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful. He tried to speak, to alert her she wasnât alone, but he felt as if he had come under her spell and had been forbidden to move.
Suddenly the air crackled with frantic barking, and a dog emerged from the other side of the bush. His hackles raised, he positioned himself between Matthew and the girl. She jerked to a stop and stared at him, wide-eyed. The dog snarled and inched forward.
Her dark eyes narrowed, and with one snap of her fingers she quieted the dog. She didnât move, and her arched eyebrow told him his company wasnât welcomed. âStay back, mister, or Iâll sic my dog on you.â
He glanced down at the dog, whose body still bristled as if he was ready to attack. âI donât mean you any harm, miss.â
âThen why did you sneak up on me?â
He shook his head. âI didnât. I stopped when I heard your voice. What were you saying?â
âJust some words I learned from a Cherokee woman.â She frowned and glanced past him. âAre you