The door slammed behind Celia, making Jacob startle in his chair. How much of her hardness was grief, and how much was willfulness? After her father’s death, she’d become quite stubborn and mouthy whenever she’d come to Sunday school, but that didn’t mean her disobedience had started then.
He didn’t relish taking over as disciplinarian so soon after the wedding, but he wouldn’t tolerate the way Celia treated his wife much longer. “Did her attitude need work before Gregory died?”
“She was a handful before, but not this much.” Annie pushed a slice of ham around her plate. “Gregory was the one who took care of the discipline, and I haven’t been able to make myself reprimand her. I know how it is to feel lost, abandoned ... hopeless.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Hopeless?
He took in a deep breath. He wasn’t Gregory, and his house sat on a city block. But did Annie and Celia still feel such things? Hadn’t Annie told the children he’d been God’s provision?
Perhaps Annie was referring to how she felt in the past, but if she was feeling that way now...
Time. He’d have to be patient while they adjusted and try not to let their talk in the midst of grief wound him. But if life were to continue smoothly, some things could not be tolerated. “No matter how she’s feeling, I won’t abide Celia disrespecting you. After supper tonight, we should discuss how we’ll correct her.”
Annie’s meek nod made his heart go ka-thunk. They were virtually strangers, yet every muscle in his arms begged him to scoot around to the other side of the table and embrace her.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and went to her. Stooping down, he waited until she lifted her dark-honey eyes to meet his gaze. “Thanks for lunch, Anne.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles before going to retrieve his gun belt.
Her wide-eyed stare followed him to the door. He winked at her before slipping outside. Maybe he’d leave work a little early today. Give her a thorough tour of his house so she’d not feel so lost, show her she hadn’t been abandoned.
That there was hope.
Chapter Fifteen
Annie handed Jacob the last soapy dish and watched as he rinsed and dried it. Gregory had never helped with dishes. Of course, he’d never had to. He’d lived with his folks until they’d married and she’d never asked him to pitch in. Didn’t even expect it.
But even if Gregory had washed his own dishes for years, as Jacob had, he’d have abdicated the chore the first chance he got.
And here she was comparing the two—she’d vowed not to do that.
She picked up the dish pan and headed outside to toss the dirty water off the back porch.
Of course, if she compared herself to Jacob, she’d likely not measure up either. He was certainly more agreeable to people taking over his house than she would’ve been. He’d not complained once while she rearranged his furniture, reorganized his pantry, and delegated his chores over the last several days.
Why, when she and Gregory had married, it had taken nearly a year before they’d agreed on where the boot scraper ought to be placed.
Jacob’s easy manner in accepting this catastrophic turn of events made her feel even worse for the first prayer she’d uttered under his roof, asking God to wake her up from this nightmare.
Somehow, she was certain Jacob hadn’t had such a thought, let alone prayed it. She leaned against the railing and stared out across the small yard.
“All right now, go upstairs and get ready for bed.” Jacob’s voice sounded kind but firm despite being loud enough to travel through the walls of the house.
Annie looked up at the moon in the nearly darkened sky. It was still early. She’d been allowing the children to stay up later than usual since time seemed so empty now that they weren’t working sun up to sun down. Celia had yet to bring home any schoolwork and Spencer always did his as soon as he came home. School hadn’t been enough to keep them busy.
And if she and Jacob weren’t busy, and the children were off to bed...
Well, what was wrong with her? Having time to get to know Jacob should be something to look forward to.
But what if he realized he didn’t like her? If they’d had the ranch, it wouldn’t have mattered so much. He could’ve done what Gregory had the last couple years, spend most of his time with the herd and come home for little beyond food and sleep.
Jacob hadn’t had but a few days to convince himself he was willing to marry her for the ranch, and what if all the nice things he’d imagined about her turned out false? What if she didn’t measure up?
The door whined open behind her.
“Do you need help?”
She shook her head as she passed by him on the way back into the kitchen. “No, I was just lost in thought.”
“Anything you’d like to share?”
“Oh, no, just rambling thoughts.” She wouldn’t force him into assuring her of things that might not be true.
After closing the door, he took the empty dishpan from her. “If you need someone to listen to those thoughts, I’m willing.”
“Thanks, but, there’s a table to—” She frowned at the clean table and counters. The floor sported nary a crumb. “I guess you’ve already cleaned up.”
He took her hand in his, not as big and calloused as Gregory’s, yet just as warm. “I know you said I don’t have to help, but I’m used to it, plus we have some talking to do if you remember.”
Her heart sunk as she followed him into the parlor.
Disciplining Celia.
If only he’d forgotten.
As much as her daughter needed to be taken to task, it just felt wrong to worry about that now. She had let Celia grieve her father for a few months before trying to fix her attitude. Shouldn’t the girl have some time to grieve the ranch as well?
Jacob kept hold of her hand as they moved through the house until they stood in front of the sofa, and without letting go of her hand, he sat.
She lowered herself beside him, willing her heart to stop its crazy rhythm. There was nothing wrong with holding his hand. Nor was there anything intimate about sitting beside him.
Until his arm came around her shoulders and she nearly jumped from her seat.
With a frown, he took his arm away, and she started playing with the folds of her skirt.
Could she have made that any more awkward?
Though she’d held hands with several people throughout her life, no one but Gregory had wrapped his arm around her.
She drew in a shuddery breath and traced the swirly pattern in her skirt. Jacob was well within his rights to put his arm around her, well within his rights to more.
And now she couldn’t breathe at all.
“What are you thinking?” Jacob tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, an amused tone coloring his voice.
She untucked that same strand of hair in a sorry attempt to cover the redness that was likely aflame on her cheeks. “I’d rather not say.”
He sat quietly long enough she ventured to look at him again, and with the way his eyebrows were raised and his grin was half-cocked, she had a feeling he’d guessed where her thoughts had wandered all on his own.
He took her hand and tugged her closer.
She forced herself not to resist. How was Jacob better at acting as if they were husband and wife than she was? She was the one who knew what it was like to be married. Though it wasn’t as if she and Gregory had been getting along well before he’d died. After they’d lost Jack, they’d both struggled to cope, and after Augustus had arrived stillborn, they’d pulled apart even more.
Yet, even back when they’d been heady with new love, she’d not let Gregory get this close this quick.
Not that she’d married him within a week either—she hadn’t even been sure she liked him in that amount of time.
Jacob was still quiet, so she peeked over, and the lazy smile on his face made it hard to breathe. If she let herself, she could really like a man who looked at her like that.
&nb
sp; And she was allowed to let herself.
She cleared her throat. “So, Celia.” As much as she’d rather not talk about disciplining her daughter, it seemed doing so would be a good thing at the moment.
“Yes?”
“Don’t you think we should let things settle down before we worry about making her—”
“No.”
And now his face was stern enough she could look at him without worrying her whole body would flush.
“My parents never let us get away with being disrespectful, even when we were hurting.”
She sighed and looked away. Since she and the children had taken over his house, he’d not asked for anything but this. And he was right. She’d had to fight harder and harder to get Celia to behave these last several months. “All right.”
“Good.” He sighed and picked up her hand again, inching closer.
She stopped herself from scooting away.
She’d prided herself on being a good wife and mother, but maybe she hadn’t been if she couldn’t simply sit still next to the man who’d given up his life for them, or keep her daughter from back talking him.
Had her inability to be a good wife and mother been what had really pushed Gregory away these last several years? Would Jacob end up pushing her away too? She sniffled, and out of nowhere, tears took over her face and she dashed them away.
Jacob stayed her hand. “It’s all right to cry.”
She shook her head, extricating her hand to swipe at her cheeks. She would not cry about Gregory in front of Jacob. Surely no man wanted to watch his wife cry over how she wished she could redo the last couple of years with her previous husband.
She sniffed one last time and made herself place her hand on Jacob’s knee and look at his face, which was clearly more handsome than hers would be at the moment. Crying did not become her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He put his hand atop hers.
“Mother?”
Stiffening at the harshness in Celia’s voice, Annie quickly pulled her hand from Jacob’s and stood to face her daughter.
Celia was staring at Jacob, and Annie turned to see his expression had hardened.
She sucked in a deep breath. “To bed, Celia, as Jacob told you. Save your questions for morning.”
Celia’s face flashed defiance, but after a glance at Jacob, she headed back up the stairs.
That had been easier than expected. Annie turned to smile at Jacob, but he didn’t look any happier than when he’d first spied Celia.
He stood and gave her a weak smile. “Good night, Anne.” He let his hand travel down her arm a little before following Celia up.
Had she not handled that well enough? And had he called her Anne?
Though she’d rather lower herself onto the sofa and let the tears flow and fall straight to sleep, she put the afghan back on the chair and turned down the lamp.
While everyone was gone tomorrow, she’d let herself cry until she could cry no more. Hopefully come evening, she’d be able to put one man behind her and focus on the other.
Chapter Sixteen
The haze of night had disappeared, ushering in dawn’s crisp scent as Jacob walked toward his office, and yet, he might as well be walking in a fog.
He’d gotten nowhere in regard to Annie’s ranch this past week. Mr. Grayson had been no help, though he’d expected that. Even if the town’s lawyer wasn’t deep in McGill’s pocket, he always talked in circles.
He’d yet to hear from his father’s old lawyer in Texas. And the sheriff he trusted in Cheyenne hadn’t been able to recommend a lawyer that practiced anywhere near Armelle.
Plus, Annie was completely mystifying him, skittish, quiet, rarely speaking to him unless spoken to. But then, he’d never had to figure out a woman before, so it was even more irksome Bryant had closed himself off. His friend should’ve been available to help him understand what was going on in his wife’s head.
Perhaps he needed to find himself another friend—
“Jacob!”
He stopped in the middle of the road and searched for Leah.
Several feet in front of him, Leah stepped off the sidewalk with an amused tilt to her head. “You need to watch where you’re stepping.”
Then the smell hit him. He glanced down and groaned. He stomped to the side of the road and scraped his boot in a clean patch of dirt. “That’s what I get for being awful at my job.” He couldn’t afford to be awful at it. If the city council asked him to resign…
“You work plenty hard, but that was quite fresh.” She wrinkled her nose and gestured for him to join her. The ease with which she hooked her arm around his made him wonder why Annie jumped at the slightest touch.
Perhaps Leah had spoiled him into thinking women were easy to be around. “I’m surprised you can stand so close to me, considering the stench.” He scraped his boot one last time for good measure.
She chuckled. “It’s not as if the street doesn’t always smell like this.”
His chest relaxed with her easy conversation. “So where’re you headed?”
“To see you actually.”
“Me?” He looked down at her, quite far down, since she was nearly half a foot shorter than Annie. Leah’s face seemed tense. “I hope you don’t need a marshal.”
“Just this marshal.” She grinned as she squeezed his arm, but it quickly faded away. “I was wondering.” She swallowed hard. “I mean, did Bryant stop by your house last night?”
“No, was he wanting to talk to me?” Hopefully—
“No, it’s just that...” Her expression contorted for a second, but then with a shrug, her face went back to glowing. “Well, I wanted to invite your family to supper tomorrow.”
And here he’d been thinking Leah had been easy to read. “I’ll have to ask Annie, but I doubt she’ll refuse.”
“Great.” She smiled up at him. “And how are you two doing?”
He turned his attention forward as if needing to concentrate on navigating the boardwalk—the empty boardwalk. How truthful should he be? If Bryant wasn’t available to help him, perhaps Leah could. Considering she was a woman, maybe she’d be better at advising him anyway. “I’m afraid my ability to understand women is woefully lacking.”
Leah broke out in a full guffaw.
When Mrs. Tate sent her a censuring glance as she passed them on the boardwalk, Leah covered her mouth with her hand, but laughter still shook her petite frame.
She sucked in a deep breath as soon as Mrs. Tate passed and gave Jacob a beatific smile. “Only you and a thousand other men suffer from such affliction.”
He tried to give her a menacing glare, but her dancing eyes kept him from pulling it off. “Well, yes. Plenty of men are confused by the fairer sex, but I’ve never had trouble communicating with you. Annie’s much more quiet, painfully so.”
Leah’s features sobered. “I don’t know her well enough to tell you what’s going on in her head, but I think any woman, or man for that matter, would have trouble grappling with the circumstances she’s been thrown into.”
“But I thought women liked to talk. She’s not telling me anything. I can’t help if—”
“Not all women like to talk. I’ve never known Annie to be chatty.”
“No, but I’d thought as her husband...” That certainly felt weird to declare aloud. “That I’d be the one she’d talk to. But maybe it’s a woman thing. Maybe you could get her to open up. She looks about ready to burst, or well, she actually does. Randomly. The tears appear with no rhyme or reason, but I can’t help her stop unless I understand why.”
Leah patted his arm, her smile growing bigger. “Now, there’s a good husband, wanting to fix everything. But only she can find herself.”
“‘Find herself’?”
“Who she thought she was and where she’d thought she’d be was suddenly yanked away from her. It’ll take time to adjust to her new role.”
“I’d thought Annie was tough. But right now, she seems anything but.�
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“Give her time.” She patted his arm again, and this time he frowned at the patronizing gesture. How long would it take Annie to find herself?
With a sigh, he stopped in front of his office and Leah looked toward the horizon where the mountains created a dusky blue ridge around the northern half of Armelle.
She shook her head a little and looked back at him. “When Bryant’s sick, he’s flat out cranky. But I love him anyway because I know who he is when he’s well. Unfortunately, you don’t know who Annie is beneath the turmoil. But if you can focus on the woman waiting for you on the other side, things will come out right before you know it.” She turned to smile up at him, but her smile didn’t look as joyful as the ones she’d given him earlier. “What I’ve learned after nineteen years of marriage is that the breakthrough always comes. It might take longer than you wish, it might not be the breakthrough you want, but the confusion always clears up at some point.”
He squeezed Leah’s arm. “I suppose all I can do is make sure she knows I’m willing to listen when she’s ready.”
“A good plan, I’d say.” She gave him a wink and then headed back the way they’d come.
He blew out a noisy exhale as he pulled out his keys. He’d prepared himself to wait for Annie to learn to love him, but he’d not realized how hard it would be to wait for her to trust him—not just for protection and provision, she’d chosen him for that—but with her thoughts, her worries, her heart.
Even if love took a long time to develop, he’d at least hoped for a friend and confidante. And considering how Bryant was shutting him out—
Jacob opened the door and something white floated up with the gust of air.
He stomped on the paper with his foot and bent to retrieve it.
Three rustlers are encamped with cattle south of the county line, about a quarter mile north of the hollow tree adjacent to the Quincee property on the north side of the Laramie.
No signature.
The words were written with a stiff hand, likely to keep anyone from recognizing the handwriting—just like the last two he’d found.
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