Page 105 of Valley of Dreams

Chapter Twenty-six

Patrick had spent twoweeks in the mountains. He’d drunk more tea in that fortnight than he had in his entire life, it seemed. But in doing so, he’d found a way to face the pull of a master he no longer wished to serve.

And he’d found his brother again.

“Do you have a plan yet?” Ian asked, driving the wagon in the direction of town. They weren’t near enough yet to see even a glimpse of the Hope Springs valley, but it oughtn’t be long now.

“A plan for what?”

Ian tossed him a look of doubt in his intelligence. “Winning your lass’s heart, you dunderhead.”

“All I have,” Patrick said, “is some advice I once got—long before this sobering-up trip—from a fellow who was more or less reliable.”

“Igave you adviceduringthis sobering-up trip,” Ian said. “Do I not lean toward more reliable instead of less?”

Patrick pushed a needle through several layers of thick canvas. He was nearly done with a project he’d begun at the start of their two weeks away. He’d had to pause his efforts a few days in, when the need for whiskey had set his hands trembling and his head pounding fiercely. The worst seemed to have passed. “You’re reliable enough, but this fellow . . . he was wise.”

“What did this scholar tell you, then?”

“He, in his very wise way, said that when a colleen captured my heart, I needed to say what needed saying, take risks, and do what needed doing. He also said something about not being a coward, but since I was so very brave at the time, I didn’t worry too much about that bit.”

Ian tossed him a dry look. “Itold you that, before we left New York.”

“Couldn’t be.” Patrick twisted his face into an expression of confused disbelief. “This fellow was much, much younger than you are.”

“You were much, much younger then, too.”

“Aye, but I was and always will be younger than you.”

“There was a time, Patrick, when I missed having you around.” Ian adjusted his hat on his head. “That was back when you were nice to me.”

“You’re happy I’m back. Admit it.”

“I’m happyyou’re back, not the shell of you that stumbled into town months ago.” Ian kept his gaze on the road. “Hewas infuriating.”

Patrick laughed, keeping at his sewing project. “Eliza liked him.”

“And now Eliza’s not speaking with him.”

With a sigh, Patrick said, “If only that wise young fellow from all those years ago were nearby with some advice.”

“That wise young—”

Patrick cleared his throat.

“—youngishfellow has been giving you advice for two weeks now.”

“And tea,” Patrick added. “He’s been giving me far too much tea.”

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