A Shelter of Hope by Tracie Peterson Page B

herself that remaining aloof and silent would afford her a protection she might well need in the days to come. The less they knew about her, the better. Knowing too much about her and about what she’d done might actually cause them a great deal of grief, and that was certainly no way to pay back a kindness.
    “Here, child,” Gladys said, coming forward with a steaming cup. “I just made this tea. I hope you like tea.”
    “Tea’s fine,” Simone murmured and accepted the cup.
    Gladys sat down in the chair beside her and shook her head again. “You look like you could stand a few days of rest. I sure wish you would change your mind and stay on with us. I miss my own girl so much that it would be pure pleasure to spend time with another young woman.”
    Simone tried not to think about the woman’s aching heart, not wanting to imagine the misery of a daughter so far away from home. Simone took a large bite of the fluffy biscuit and tried not to think of anything but the food. Don’t be a fool , she reminded herself. The Cantons are nothing to you. Don’t get caught up in who they are and what they want. Don’t feel for them. Don’t care about them .
    “I’m afraid that Gladdy misses our Eliza a sight more than some mothers might. She’s our only child, you see,” Elias told Simone. He smiled proudly. “She was even named after me, in a roundabout way.”
    Simone dared to look up at the man and found only loving approval in his eyes. She swallowed hard and took a long sip of tea from the mug. The lump in her throat refused to move. No one had ever loved her the way these people clearly loved their child. Of course, their child had most likely not committed murder. That thought shattered Simone’s feelings of comfort in their presence.
    “I thank you for your kindness,” she said uneasily, “but I really should be on my way.”
    “I wish you would at least stay and have a bath,” Gladys said. “Your clothes could use a good scrubbing, and I’d be right happy to see to it for you.”
    “Your horse looks pretty well shot,” Elias added. “I’ve put him in the barn. Gave him feed and water, but he could use with a rest, as well.”
    He reached out to touch Simone’s arm, but she drew back sharply. Having never known a touch by a man that wasn’t intended for harm, Simone stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over backward. “I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly realizing her reaction. “I can … cannot stay.”
    Elias’s expression registered surprise. “I meant you no harm, child.”
    Simone realized how awkward the situation had become. “I’m sorry. I thank you for the meal. Thank you, too, for buying my pelts. But I’ve got to go now!” Her feelings were starting to frighten her. She longed for nothing more than to stay with these kind, gentle folk, but she couldn’t—she was a murderess and a thief, and nothing good could ever come to her again.
    She moved away from the table, casting one last regretful glance at the uneaten portion on her plate. Gladys seemed to understand this and hurried to remedy the situation.
    “At least take some of this with you,” she told Simone. “I’ll wrap up the rest of the ham and biscuits. They ought to travel well. Oh, and you can take one of these loaves of bread. That ought to do you for a couple of days and by then you’ll be to Laramie.”
    “Thank you,” Simone replied, not knowing quite what to do. She wanted to reject the offer, but it seemed foolish to do so and her practical mind wouldn’t hear of it. She went to the door, retrieved her coat from the peg, and waited until Gladys and Elias approached with the cloth-wrapped food.
    Elias pulled on his own coat and smiled. “I’ll help you saddle the horse.”
    “That’s not necessary,” Simone replied, but he’d hear nothing of her argument.
    “Now, you be careful on the trail,” Gladys told her. “I’ll be praying for a legion of angels to surround you and keep you from