If only he didn’t have to keep his job, he’d...
Jacob gritted his teeth and tried to empty his mind. He had to stop grumbling if he wanted to live up to Annie’s opinion of him.
Duchess snorted a greeting the moment Jacob enter the livery.
“Ready for a run, girl?” He saddled her, and they soon sped out of town.
Crawford’s ranch came into view over the crest of a small ridge. A wooden fence surrounded the ramshackle structures clustered in the middle of the expansive plains.
Jacob filled his lungs with pure air. Oh, to live in the country free from city rules—to be free from enforcing them. He pulled Duchess to a slow gait and recalled the verse he’d memorized this week.
But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.
He would have to dig deep to find contentment with the current job God allowed him—but fortunately, better things awaited him in heaven.
Thank you for loving me. May I be worthy of reward.
A heavenly ranch would be nice, seeing as he likely wasn’t going to get one here on earth.
About a quarter hour later, he tethered his horse to the Crawfords’ porch and then navigated the warped stairs to knock on the door. Two empty buckets of whitewash under a makeshift bench caught his eye. He glanced around. Every wooden structure seemed weathered and neglected.
A high-pitched creak pulled back Jacob’s attention. Daniel Crawford’s slightly mottled face appeared next to the door jamb. The swarthy juvenile eyed him, opening the door no wider than six inches. “What do you want?”
Jacob returned the boy’s glare. “Is your father home?”
“No.” His eyes narrowed even more.
“Are you expecting him any time soon?”
The boy shook his head.
Jacob took a long look at the whitewash then looked back at the kid.
Daniel’s fierce expression evaporated, and he licked his lips.
“What—” Jacob drew out his words “—have you been whitewashing?”
The boy cocked his head and squinted. “A fence.”
Jacob remained silent, waiting. If the boy didn’t confess now, he’d nail him later.
The boy’s lips flattened, then pursed. “On somebody else’s property.”
“Whose?”
“Not at liberty to say,” the boy huffed. “Any more questions? I got to get to town.” The glare returned.
“No.” Jacob hooked his thumbs around his gun belt. “If you see your pa, tell him I need to talk to him.”
“What for?”
Jacob couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “I’m not at liberty to say.” He gave Daniel a razing glance before walking back to Duchess. He’d talk to Levi Crawford about keeping a closer eye on his pig as well as his son.
But at least he’d found his vandal. Now all he had to do was catch him in the act or find some stray whitewash and a witness to prove it.
Annie placed the last supper dish on the table as Celia slid in through the door.
“Where’ve you been?” Annie’s hands found her hips. “I had to cook and set the table alone again.”
Celia shrugged. “I was busy.”
The urge to shake Celia by her shoulders caught Annie off-guard. She took a calming breath. “Perhaps Jacob needs to have a talk with you.” Though his strictness seemed to be turning her daughter against her, Celia at least obeyed him.
“So you’re taking his side then?”
“His side? Since we’ve moved into town, you’ve done nothing but gallivant around, arrive home late, pout, and stew.” School had let out days ago, and she’d expected Celia to help around the house. “It’s time you stayed home for a while and assisted me—all day.”
Celia growled. “I didn’t ask to move into town, but now that I’m here, I have friends I want to see.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Jacob walked through, his lips bunched to one side. “Visiting friends is one thing, doing so whenever you please is another.” Jacob crossed his arms. “Who are these friends anyway?”
“No one.” Celia stared pointedly at her mother.
Annie turned to a mud-splattered Jacob, thankful he had appeared before her daughter won another fight. “I don’t know who her friends are either, but I was thinking that Celia needs to stay with me next week.” She tried to muster some tenderness into her gaze before looking back at her daughter. “Every day. All day. To make up for the help I’ve lost.”
Jacob grunted. “Sounds fair.”
“Fair?” Celia stomped. “All day is too much.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I’ll help with supper from now on, I promise.”
“You can’t be trusted to do so.” Jacob sidled up next to Annie and put his hand on her shoulder. “Your mother’s right, you need to make up for how you’ve treated her lately.”
Annie let out a slow breath. Father, help her take her punishment without causing a scene.
“But what about my friends?” Celia scowled.
Annie shook her head. “Maybe if we knew who they—”
Jacob squeezed her arm.
Did he not want to know their names?
Celia huffed. “Daniel Crawford, Harriet Butler, and Timothy O’Conner, all right? They’re—”
“Then I’m absolutely certain you should stay home with your mother.” Tension radiated off Jacob, almost palpable.
Annie knew Daniel. Celia had grown up with him, being that the Crawfords had been their neighbors. Daniel wasn’t a horrible boy, just a challenge—like her own child.
Celia’s expression turned pleading, but Annie kept her mouth shut. Did Jacob know something about one of the friends she’d listed that would explain Celia’s defiance? She’d met Harriet once, and she’d seemed innocent enough, but Annie didn’t even know Timothy.
Her heart thudded.
Her fifteen-year-old daughter was spending several unsupervised hours every day with one girl and two boys. “I agree with Jacob. You need to stay home.”
Letting out a muffled snarl, Celia pivoted and stomped up the stairs. The sound of a door slam followed.
Annie slumped into a kitchen chair. “I can’t believe she’s behaving so badly. What must people think of me?”
Beside her, Jacob’s chair groaned with his weight. “Some might judge us for Celia’s behavior, but we’ll not worry about that.” His arm slipped around her, the touch comforting. “We’ll just do the best we can.”
She gazed into his eyes, dark with caring. He’d done nothing to create the disaster Celia had become, yet he didn’t expect Annie to deal with it alone.
She looked away from his intense stare. Just months ago, she’d believed herself so destitute she’d had to enter into a loveless marriage.
But destitute and unloved she was not.
Though she couldn’t throw herself into loving him yet—not when she still halfway expected Gregory to come through the door in the middle of the day, still thought she heard his voice on occasion.
She stared at her hands clutching the apron in her lap while Jacob rubbed a soft circle above her elbow with his thumb. Gregory had been a good man, a fine provider and protector, even if they had quarreled an awful lot in those last months. But he’d never been this sensitive and caring.
What if she ended up loving Jacob more than she’d ever loved Gregory?
Annie straightened and took a deep breath. Right now, she needed to focus on Celia. “What else would you suggest we do with her? I’ve obviously failed.”
Jacob kissed her temple, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “First, she’s going to come down and apologize for how she spoke to you. Then we’ll enforce your week of work, and then...” He was quiet for so long, she turned to look at him.
His gaze was fastened on nothing in particular, his thumb absently rubbing the underside of his jaw, which was but a few inches away from her. So close she c
ould lean over and kiss—
She drew in a sharp breath and faced forward, her heart pumping hard enough to leap from her chest. She needed to direct her attention back to safe thoughts, more important thoughts, proper thoughts.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to tell her she can’t see Daniel and his friends anymore.” Jacob’s voice was soft with concern.
“Daniel? But they’ve known each other since they were little.” Her voice came out breathless, making her protest sound more vehement than intended.
He sighed. “I think he might be the reason behind her lengthy absences. There’ve been a string of petty pranks lately—broken lights, stolen undergarments, painted signs. I visited the Crawfords’ today and saw some empty paint buckets on their porch but nothing painted. Daniel acted defensive when I questioned him.”
Jacob scooted closer.
Could he hear the erratic pulse beating in her ears?
“But even if he isn’t the perpetrator, his attitude stinks. So much so, Celia’s ill manners won’t improve by spending time with him.” He looped an arm around her and squeezed. “But I’ll check on the other two. Maybe she doesn’t have to give up all her friends.”
Daniel certainly didn’t have the best disposition, but if Celia were allowed at least a few—
“One more thing.” Jacob took her shoulders and gently swiveled her to face him. The twinkle in his eyes mirrored the grin tugging at his lips. “The next time you’re thinking about doing this—” He lowered his head and nipped a tiny kiss on her jawbone below her ear.
A jolt both cold and hot raised goose bumps from her neck to her elbows.
“—you should.”
He stood and threw her a roguish look that caused even more gooseflesh to sweep across her body. He winked before striding from the room, his footsteps beating a steady rhythm up the stairs.
She hugged herself, trying to squelch the feverish chill taking over her.
She couldn’t kiss him—not yet.
But he was right, she’d wanted to.
His voice, calm and steady, was muffled by the floor overhead, but she could make out the command to come down and apologize.
How could he expect her to discipline Celia after he’d kissed her like that?
Like a penitent pupil, Annie schooled her features and straightened in her chair.
If he’d been able to figure out she’d wanted to kiss his jaw, she had to get a hold of herself lest Celia also guess her thoughts.
Oh, if only she could lock herself in her room right now.
Footsteps tromped on the stairs.
Annie couldn’t bear to look up and watch them enter. What if Jacob entered first? What if he was still smiling the way he had right before he’d gone up? She rubbed the sudden gooseflesh that popped up on her arms again as she stared at her lap. If simply thinking about his smile caused such a reaction—
Celia’s feet appeared in front of her. The girl knelt down beside the chair, her face no longer impudent. “Ma, please don’t let him do this. Daniel’s been my friend since I was five.” She grabbed her hands. “Daddy liked him well enough.”
Annie swallowed hard. Her daughter’s eyes, round with pleading, made her want to cave. “Jacob feels you shouldn’t—” Celia squeezed her fingers hard “—associate with him for the time being, and I agree. You need to understand that how you’re acting is unacceptable. If this is how we have to prove it, then so be it.” She extricated her hands and put them on each side of Celia’s face. “Prove to me you’re the lady I taught you to be, and we won’t have to put restrictions on you.”
“But—”
“I told you not to badger your mother.” Both ladies jumped at Jacob’s voice. He stood in the stairwell doorway, but he might as well be filling the whole room. “Have you apologized?”
“No.” Celia’s voice squeaked. She turned to face her mother, her chin quivering. “Sorry.” She stood and pushed past Jacob, her footfalls whisper fast as she ran upstairs. Then her door closed—but no slam. An answering bang of the kitchen door behind Annie made her jump.
“Whew!” Spencer swiped the bangs from his forehead, revealing a streak of white flesh amidst the dirt covering him from head to toe. “All done.”
“What have you been doing, rolling in a barn somewhere?” Jacob smiled as Spencer ran over and hugged his waist.
“No. Mama made me pull the grass and weeds out of the garden.”
“We turned dirt over this afternoon.” Annie stood and walked to the window, not sure she trusted herself to look at Jacob. The dirt patch seemed virtually free of plants. “Good job, Spencer. You may have an extra slice of pie tonight.”
“Yes!”
“If you eat all your supper.” Annie wiped at the dirt on his cheek with her thumb. “Though you’ll need to change your clothes before you sit at the table.”
He pivoted and raced for the stairs.
“Tell Celia it’s time for supper after you’re done,” Annie called after him.
“I’ll set the table.” Jacob walked past her, his hand flitting across the small of her back as he passed, and grabbed the plates from the hutch. Would this man ever cease anticipating her needs?
She busied herself with setting out the food. The children would be down any minute, and she needed to be doing something.
Spencer’s feet scuffed across the floorboards. “Celia said she ain’t coming.”
“Isn’t coming. But don’t worry about it.” Jacob patted the boy’s shoulder, but she was certain his words were meant for her. “Everything will be all right.”
Annie looked up, where shuffling sounds scraped above the ceiling. “You’re not going to make her come down?”
He shook his head and pulled out the seat next to Spencer. “We’ll let her stew if she wants. It won’t hurt her to go to bed hungry.”
Annie took the plate of bread and settled herself in the chair he held out for her. His hand ran lightly across her upper arm, bringing back the gooseflesh that had only receded a few minutes ago. He took a seat and said the evening prayer, but she didn’t close her eyes. They remained transfixed on his lips forming the words. When he asked the Lord to bless the hands that prepared the food, she dropped her gaze and bowed her head in time to whisper amen.
The second she looked up, Jacob was looking at her.
She quickly turned to serve Spencer some beans.
Surely Jacob had been too busy praying to have realized where her thoughts had returned. Because she didn’t know what she’d do if he kissed her like that again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Celia yanked her dress fabric loose from where it was hung up on the window frame, then clamped her fingers onto the windowsill. She lowered her body over the edge until her arms stretched full length. Dangling, she searched for a foothold, but the climbing vines clinging to the north side of the house thwarted her. She stretched her leg farther out toward the trellis and finally poked a toe into the latticework. With a daring lunge, she grabbed onto a wooden crosspiece and pulled her body over.
A popping sound above her made her heart jump. She tightened her grip and plastered herself against the wall. After the pulsing in her eardrums quieted, she tested her weight on the next hole down and then slowly descended, trying not to pull the lattice off the siding.
About three feet above the ground, she slipped, and with a thud, hit the dirt. She scurried up against the kitchen’s exterior wall and held her breath.
Ma’s laughter floated out through the propped-open window. How could Ma be so happy this quick? She’d apparently given up on getting the ranch back. She didn’t even ask the marshal about it anymore.
And Spencer already called him Pa.
She’d never call him that.
“What do you think Daniel did with the paint?”
They were talking about Daniel? Celia inched closer to the window.
“Our town sign now proudly welcomes our visitors to Hades.”
Celia slapped a hand over
her mouth to suppress a giggle.
“What’s ‘Hades,’ Pa?”
“Oh my, Jacob. What’re you going to do?”
“Fix the sign.” Jacob sighed. “Then talk to Levi. I’m not sure Daniel did it since no one seems to have seen him around that area, but if his father doesn’t know what the whitewash was used for, then I’ll keep an eye on the boy. Catch him on his next prank.”
Since everyone’s voices were accounted for, Celia hunched over and scurried from the yard. She didn’t have much time. Ma would surely come to her room to lecture her before going to bed.
After darting through alleyways and slinking across streets, Celia crept up behind Harriet’s house. On tiptoe, she peeked over the south bedroom windowsill.
Dark and empty.
She crept to the parlor window and took in Harriet’s parents and three siblings all busy with one pursuit or another.
Good. Harriet had already escaped.
At the edge of town, Celia left stealth behind and flat out ran, pulling mighty draughts of country air into her taxed lungs. The sun hovered above the horizon, so she pumped her arms faster. She had to get there and back before dark.
Between two thin willows, she veered onto the hidden path near the river obscured by shrubbery and slowed to avoid getting scratched by overeager thorn bushes.
In the clearing, sitting at the river’s edge, Harriet threw a large rock into the water, and the splash hit Timothy in the face. He growled and swiped at his forehead with a red neckerchief, and Celia sputtered a laugh.
Daniel hoisted himself up from where he’d been sitting on the bank, hitched up his patched pants, and moseyed toward her. “How’d you get here so early?”
Celia sucked in air until the stitch in her side abated, but she wouldn’t double over and pant. Couldn’t let Daniel know a simple run to the river had winded her this much.
“Chased by a wolf or something?” Timothy looked at her with slanted eyebrows. He was the eldest of the group, but with his thick facial hair, he seemed even older. “You’re crazy if you ran the whole way from town.”
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