by Ava Winters
“Hey there, welcome to the Whispering Whistle,” he greeted. “You getting through alright?”
“Just fine,” the man replied. “The lady here was just fixin’ me a drink.”
“I’m glad she’s takin’ care of you. I’m Peter. I own this place. And you are?” he asked, holding out his hand.
The man looked at his offered hand questioningly, then took it. “Jake,” he introduced.
“You’re new in town?” he pressed.
“Yes,” Jake confirmed. He looked briefly at Layla and then turned his attention back to Peter. “But I’m thinkin’ I might stick around.”
Peter looked at Layla surreptitiously. “This is a good place to live, if you choose to,” he elaborated. “And if you have any trouble, you let me know—I’m also the deputy sheriff.”
Jake’s gaze intensified at the news. Then, he smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter Eight
It felt good to work. Layla was loving it, and the people she met each day. The walk to the saloon was always enjoyable because it meant she was earning her keep, that she was doing something for others that was appreciated and earning a living from it. Helping Annabelle was one thing, but working for Peter was the real joy in her day.
In the years since Layla married, she’d never felt as if what she did meant anything. It certainly never profited her. She never earned a dime—Jacob would never allow it—but she’d wanted to. She wanted to contribute. She wanted to be someone of worth. She never felt that she had any value in Jacob’s life. She was just someone to take care of their needs—not that she was significant. She could’ve been anybody. He didn’t care. None of them did.
Now, there was a bounce to her step as Layla walked to work. She was wearing new shoes, the first thing she’d ever bought for herself. Annabelle had helped her get settled when she’d first moved to town, and Layla had every intention of paying her back, though the woman refused it. Still, it felt like she’d won a hand of poker to be able to buy something for herself.
Layla’s evening progressed as usual. The patrons came in and made their orders, and she poured their drinks and checked their bills. Everything was as it should be—and when Peter arrived, it was only that much better.
The moment she saw him, Layla’s heart began to gallop. It was an accustomed response whenever Peter was around, and that seemed to be increasing in frequency, much to her delight. He’d been in the saloon every night that week, and every night, they found themselves talking, and not just about the saloon. She enjoyed his company.
Peter was waylaid by a patron, but soon he was walking toward her and Layla found herself wishing he was coming to her side for another reason. He was a dashing man. Everything about him emanated confidence and authority, but also kindness and goodness. He was what a man ought to be. Then, he went into the office, and Jacob arrived.
The heart that had beat with excitement stilled in fear the moment she saw her husband walk into the saloon. At first, he didn’t see her. He was busy talking to one of his boys when they pointed her out to him. The minute Jacob’s eyes met hers, Layla almost cried. What was he doing there?
She trembled as Jacob strutted towards her. It felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and she began to pray that he would just leave. He didn’t, of course. Instead, he sat on the stool right in front of her.
“Layla,” he said casually.
“Jacob,” she replied in a near whisper. She didn’t want people knowing they were associated. She looked around surreptitiously. No one was nearby to listen to them, and she was thankful for it. Most of the patrons were too busy enjoying a game of cards or their own conversations to notice them.
“I’ve missed you,” Jacob told her. “I’ve been lookin’ for you for weeks. Why’d you run away?”
Layla was speechless. Jacob sounded almost sorry. She’d never dreamed that he’d feel that way, but she wasn’t sure it was real, either. He’d fooled her once when she first met him. She was sure he was trying to do it again.
“What do you want Jacob?” she asked, grabbing a glass and pouring him a drink to keep things casual. His boys came and occupied the seats beside him, keeping any listening ears at bay and making Layla increasingly uneasy.
“Layla,” they each greeted, one after another. She swallowed down the fear that had risen into her throat. She nodded but said nothing.
“Why did you run?” Jacob insisted. “Was I that bad to you?”
Layla met her husband’s eyes but couldn’t answer him. He was the last person she’d expected to see; the last person she wanted to see. He was going to ruin everything she’d work so hard for. He’d tell Peter and everything would be ruined. She needed to get him out of there, but how?
“What’d you want Jacob?” she asked again. “I’m tryin’ to work.”
Jacob smiled. “I see that. You always did like to work.”
“That’s all you ever wanted me for,” Layla said coldly. She met Jacob’s gaze and, to her surprise, his expression fell.
“I’m sorry about that,” he answered. “I didn’t mean to treat you bad. I was just trying to make something happen. You know?”
Layla wasn’t going to answer that. She knew very well what he meant, but she wasn’t about to put herself in the same category as him. She wasn’t like him. He was a thief and a liar. She wasn’t a thief.
Jacob seemed to understand her silence and moved on without an answer. When he smiled at her again, Layla remembered what it had felt like the first time he’d smiled her. She was so taken by his looks, charm, and adventurous stories, that he’d taken her completely off-guard and turned her head, and life, upside-down. She couldn’t let him do that now. She had a new life—a good life—and she wanted to keep it.
She leaned closer, pretending to pour him another drink. He’d already downed the first the moment it had been placed before him. “Jacob, please, just leave.”
“I can’t,” he replied sweetly. “I’ve found you now. I can’t go.”
She looked at him in alarm. “What’d you mean?”
“I mean, now that I know you’re here, I’m not leavin’ unless you leave with me. I’m gonna prove to you that I love you.”
Panic settled in Layla’s chest at Jacob’s words. He couldn’t be serious. This wasn’t happening. She was about to tell him to leave when Peter appeared beside her. She moved away from Jacob, trying to make it seem as if they didn’t know each other. Then, to her horror, Peter started a conversation with him.
In stunned, terrified silence, Layla watched as Peter—the man she’d come to love—and Jacob, her husband, began to talk to one another. She nearly fainted with anxiety, but she held herself up. She watched silently, trying to pretend that she wasn’t, as Peter and Jacob continued to talk. She was sure her husband was about to give her away, but to her surprise, he didn’t.
“Layla, I think these gentlemen need a drink. Why don’t you unbox that alcohol and give them a taste?" Peter instructed. Layla nodded wordlessly and did as he’d asked.
Her hand was trembling as she poured the glasses, but she did her best to hide it. “Here you go,” she said as she sat the first glass down. Each of the men acted as if they didn’t know her.
The rest of the night, Layla tried to keep her composure as Jacob and his boys stayed at the saloon enjoying themselves. They called for drinks and food, and to her surprise, when the time came to pay the bill they did in full. They even left a little extra for her. Layla gave it to one of the other girls. She didn’t want any money from Jacob. She didn’t want anything from him at all.
A dark cloud hovered over Layla for the rest of the night. Jacob was in town, and it was only a matter of time before the truth was known. What would Peter think when he found out? Would he hate her? Dismiss her? Arrest her? The thoughts were inconceivable and heart-breaking. Layla didn’t want to lose Peter or the life she had built in Richstone. She just wanted to be happy. To be free. Why did Jacob have to find her?
“Layla?” Peter
called as he came out of the office later that night. He walked toward her and stepped behind the bar.
As Layla looked at him, she tried not to see the loss of everything she wanted. He was the dream, and she felt as if she was losing it. Still, she answered him with a smile. “Yes, Peter?”
“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at her curiously. “You look a bit lost.”
“I’m fine,” she answered. Again, she covered her lie with a smile and hoped to get away with it. She didn’t.
“No you aren’t,” Peter replied. “Why don’t you come into my office?”
Layla wiped her damp hands in the apron that was tied around her waist and then removed it. She set the article aside. “Lucy, could you hold on to this for me?” she asked as the waitress passed by.
“Sure, Layla,” Lucy answered with a grin. The young woman picked up the apron Layla had discarded and quickly got to work as Layla followed Peter into his office.
Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and with every step they took toward the office, the harder it pounded until it filled her ears. It was so loud by the time she entered the room, she barely heard Peter close the door behind her.
“Have a seat,” he offered casually. Layla sat down immediately.
“What’s this about, Peter?” she asked, as casually as she could. She clasped her hands tightly on her chest to keep from shaking.
“Somethin’ seems off with you tonight. Ever since that group of fellas came in earlier. Do you know them?” he questioned. The deputy sheriff in him was coming out and Layla wasn’t sure she had it in her to lie to him. In fact, she knew she didn’t.
“Yes,” she confessed softly as she hung her head.
“I thought so,” Peter replied. “How do you know them?”
Layla was faced with a dilemma. Should she tell the truth or lie? If she told the truth, how much of it did she tell? Should she tell him everything and hope for the best? No. Peter would hate her if he found out that she was married to the likes of Jacob, an outlaw. The thought was unbearable.
She could tell him she was married to him, that much she couldn’t change, but she could leave out the truth about him being an outlaw. Maybe, if Peter had enough time to accept that she was married and she was able to get divorced, he could then accept that she was married to an outlaw. That she’d lived the life of an outlaw’s wife, knowing where his money came from and what he did without ever reporting it.
Layla opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She didn’t want to lose Peter. She didn’t want to lose her chance at love and happiness, and Peter was all of that rolled into one person.
“Layla?”
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t lie to him anymore. If he learned the truth, it was best if it came from her. Jacob wouldn’t tell him the truth now that he knew Peter was the law in town. He would face jail time if anyone found out. He had a reason to keep her secret. Layla could tell Peter part of the truth and hope for the best.
“The man you talked to,” she began slowly.
“Yes?” Peter urged. She could see that he wanted an answer, and she was going to give it to him.
“His name is Jacob. Jacob McCarthy,” she continued. “He’s my husband.”
Layla saw Peter’s expression fall immediately. “Your husband?” he repeated. “You’re married?”
She nodded silently. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I married Jacob two years ago, when I was nineteen. You have to understand, Peter, I was young and stupid. He was handsome and adventurous, and swore he loved me,” she explained sadly. “But he didn’t. He never did.”
“Layla—”
She cut him off, needing to make him understand. “For two years, I tried to do everything in my power to be a good wife. I cooked, cleaned, and mended. Whatever a wife should do, I did, but it didn’t matter to him. He never noticed it. He didn’t care. He was consumed with making money and his business,” she added in a rush. Everything she’d said was true; she’d just left out what her husband’s business was.
“Then, there were the times when he got mean. He’d yell, call me names, and…” Layla’s voice trailed off as her eyes rose to meet Peter’s. She couldn’t continue. “He wasn’t good to me, and I couldn’t take it anymore,” she cried as she held his gaze. Her cheeks were steadily becoming damp with tears and she was trying her best to hide them, but it was no use. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“I ran away,” she confessed. “I never thought he’d find me. I never thought he’d even look for me, but he’s here now and I don’t know what to do. I never dreamed he’d find me. What should I do?”
The question was loaded, but Peter had no idea. She was questioning whether to continue the story—to tell him the complete truth, the way her heart wanted. Fear won out, though, and she left it at that.
Peter had a handkerchief in his hand in a second. He came around the table and sat on the edge of it as he handed it to her. “Dry your eyes,” he said softly.
Layla took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes. She was breathing hard and she was shaking, but hearing Peter’s soothing voice was calming her down. She needed that. She needed his comfort and support. Layla wanted his love, and now she was afraid she could never have it.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” he asked her seriously. “If he’s done you harm, I can warn him. I won’t be allowing anything like that here,” Peter said sternly.
“No,” Layla said softly. “I’ll deal with it, somehow.”
“Layla, you don’t have to do this alone,” Peter comforted. “Let me help you.”
“I just want to live my life. I just want this to go away, but I know it won’t be easy.”
“So let me talk to him?” he insisted.
She shook her head. “It’s best you don’t get involved. I have to deal with things between me and Jacob. I need to bring it to a proper end,” she explained. “I just don’t know how yet.”
“Do you love him?”
“No,” she answered honestly. “I don’t think I ever did. I was silly and naïve, and he pretended to love me.”
Peter lowered himself to stoop before her. He took her hands in his and squeezed them lightly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
“He’s my husband, Peter. What would people think if you got involved in this? I can’t let you; I’m asking you not to. I don’t want people to think badly of you.”
“I don’t want them to think badly of you, either,” Peter replied. “That’s why I want to help.”
She smiled weakly at him. “Let me work this out? If I need help, I’ll tell you.”
Peter looked at her sympathetically as he agreed. “Alright.”
Chapter Nine
Peter’s heart was burning in his chest. It felt as if someone was roasting it and he was doing his best to hide the ache. When he looked at the woman before him, his heart burned even more.
Layla was married.
Peter felt the hopes he had only recently begun to entertain crumble before his eyes. She was another man’s wife. The beautiful, charming, endearing woman he’d spent the past few months with was already someone’s bride.
He looked down at her left hand. There was no ring, and there had never been a mark to indicate that she was married. Was there ever a ring?
She looked smaller than she ever had. Layla seemed frail and fragile as she sat before him with dampened cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. She needed help, and despite her words, Peter could see that she was searching for it. She didn’t have to look far. He was there, and he would be the help she needed.
Peter leaned forward further and took Layla’s hand in his. “Layla,” he began as his thumb stroked the back of her knuckle. “Why did you never tell me you were married?”
Her hazel-green eyes shimmered with tears. “I couldn’t tell you,” she admitted softly. “I came to Richtstone to start over. I didn’t want anyone knowing what I’d come from. I wanted something more. I wanted to forget about Jaco
b and that life. I wanted a new one.”
Peter could understand her feelings. When Celia died, he’d wanted to start over, too, but there was nowhere to go. Richstone was the home they’d chosen, and he was going to see that dream come true. Layla ran from her hurt and pain, but that hadn’t made it better. She was now going to have to face the truth she’d run from.
“How did you meet Jacob?” he asked calmly. Her husband’s name tasted bitter on his tongue.
“Like I told you. I was eighteen, soon turning nineteen, when he walked into my life. When my Mama and Daddy died, when I was a girl, I went to live in an orphanage. They only keep you until you’re grown—I was eighteen, and they wanted me out. I got a job working as a housekeeper at a boarding house to buy myself some time to figure things out. Then, Jacob and his friends came there looking for lodging.”
