On the Trail to Moonlight Gulch Read Online Free PDF Page A

and breeches remained unwrinkled. Had he paced his room, his head heavy with daydreams, like Tory?
    “Almost a full moon, I believe,” Joseph said. “Perhaps that’s why we’re so restless. They say a full moon can play tricks on people’s minds and make us act in bizarre ways.”
    “Do you think that’s what’s happening to us?” Tory asked, genuinely interested. He already looked to Joseph for answers to life’s oddities. Was that how love worked?
    A flash of red streaked across Joseph’s pale cheeks. “I’m not sure. I suppose. Actually, I feel rather… well, in complete control of my faculties.”
    Tory edged closer. He wanted to oust whatever awkwardness lurked between them in the ensuing silence. He shuffled to his bed and invited Joseph to sit. “My room is a bit small.” He snickered self-effacingly, gesturing with his hand at his simple furnishings. “I’m sure it’s nothing like what you must be used to.”
    Joseph peered around. “It’s a nice room, a perfect fit.” He gazed at Tory from where he sat on the edge of the bed. His brown eyes glistened in the glow of the two wall lanterns above the headboard. “I still live with my parents too, Torsten. My father puts most of his money back into his stores. Don’t think I live like a king.”
    Tory lowered his head. Had he come across as a sycophant?
    “Although I would like a place of my own,” Joseph said. “If all goes well here, I could get a place in Chicago, like we spoke about. Perhaps even stay in the apartment above the bakery, for a while, anyway.”
    Tory sat next to him, almost without thought, as if someone had kicked the back of his knees and he had no choice but to buckle. “I’m sure everything will work out,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Almost everyone who moves to Chicago has good fortune. I don’t want you to go back to New York—” He stopped himself and turned his burning face away from Joseph’s gaze. “I mean, I’m sure you won’t have to go back.”
    “Would you like it if I could stay?” Joseph asked softly.
    “Well, yes,” Tory said. “I would like it. Why wouldn’t I?”
    “We’ve become fast friends, haven’t we?”
    A tingle fluttered along Tory’s limbs. He wanted to respond, but his words lodged heavy in his dry mouth. Could Joseph, sitting so close, hear, and perhaps even see, his racing heart?
    “I hope your parents won’t mind you’re staying up late with one of the boarders,” Joseph said, flashing Tory a toothy smile.
    “Their bedroom is downstairs,” Tory said. “The walls are thick. The other boarders shouldn’t hear. I don’t recall anyone ever complaining about noise.”
    More throbbing silence hovered around them. The stillness of the house seemed eerily electrified. Neither man looked at the other. Tory rested his eyes on the New Yorker’s hands, gripping his knees. He sensed an involuntary shuddering in those slender fingers. Blood and warmth coursed through the visible veins. The drumming blood exposed something else too. Was it craving? His hands seemed to yearn to rise, perhaps to touch the heat pulsating in Tory’s cheeks.
    He wouldn’t have minded such an advance. Tory had experienced them from men before, even from boarders like Joseph. Those times had been strange and emotionless. What he felt with Joseph was different. His physical yearnings combined with something profoundly emotional. He feared he might faint when Joseph finally released his knee and reached out to him. His palm rested just below Tory’s shoulder.
    “I hope you don’t mind my saying,” Joseph said, “but I’ve grown fond of you, Torsten Pilkvist.”
    Tory licked his dry lips. “I’ve grown fond of you too, Joseph van Werckhoven.”
    Dreamlike, they gazed wordlessly into each other’s eyes. Tory swallowed the phlegm that wedged in the back of his throat. Was it real? Tory hardly believed it. But it was real. He hadn’t imagined it all this time. The chocolate brown of