by Ava Winters
“Pete, don’t let your feelings blind you. Take your time, here. If she’s married, then there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t make this man, McCarthy, disappear. You also can’t make her divorce a man she doesn’t want to.”
“I know that,” Peter retorted. “I just know she needs help, Bill. You weren’t there to see her. You didn’t see what this man’s presence did to her. She’s been so hurt, Bill. I just want to help her.”
“I understand that,” his friend replied. “But you can’t save anyone who doesn’t want to be saved, Pete. Layla’s got to do the right thing and end her marriage before you two can ever have a chance.”
“I know,” Peter replied, defeated. “I’m doing what I can to protect her. This man McCarthy is bad news; I can feel it.”
“You think he’d harm her?” Bill speculated.
Peter shook his head. “I don’t think he’d try as long as I’m around, and I’ve made sure I’ve been around. Miss Annabelle or I have been walking Layla to and from the saloon on most nights. I try to be there as often as I can.”
Bill nodded. “That’s about as much as you can do. Until McCarthy does something illegal, there’s nothing we can do about him, no matter what you feel,” his friend cautioned.
“I may feel what I do, but I won’t let it interfere with my job,” Peter assured the sheriff.
“I would expect nothing less,” Bill replied, just as Peter’s stomach announced its displeasure at being empty. His friend chuckled. “You better get yourself some lunch. I’ve already had mine.”
Peter smiled lightly. “I’m headed over to the saloon, then,” he announced as he got to his feet and walked out the door.
The street was especially dusty with the long days of sun they’d been having. There was a steady cloud of it over the street as horses and carts passed back and forth. Peter lowered his hat over his eyes and kept his head down as he thought about what Bill had said.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” a familiar voice said as Peter passed between two buildings. He stopped on the other side and hung back. It was McCarthy, he was sure of it.
“But you said you were gonna do whatever it takes to get Layla back?” a voice that wasn’t as familiar questioned.
“I know, and I meant it. But mining is hard,” Jacob replied. “And she isn’t giving me an inclination that she’s changin’ her mind. I don’t wanna be doin’ this for nothin’.”
“Keep tryin’. Layla will give in eventually. It’s all she’s ever wanted,” the other man replied. “I doubt she’d let go of that dream anytime soon.”
“You’re right,” Jacob answered. “I told her I’d prove myself, and I will. Layla’s my wife and I’m not lettin’ her go that easy. It’s just this work ain’t what I thought it would be. I was sure I’d strike somethin’ by now, but I ain’t got nothin’.”
“Well, we could always do what we do best,” the other man suggested.
“No,” Jacob replied quickly. “I told Layla this was what I’m doin’ and I’m gonna prove to her that I can do it. I’m gettin’ her back.”
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Peter had heard more than he wanted to, and he turned from the street and continued to the saloon. Jacob thought he could play on Layla’s hopes in order to get her back? He was a manipulator, just as Peter had suspected, and he was going to do his best to keep Jacob McCarthy away from her.
I won’t let you hurt her again. I’m going to protect Layla from you, Jacob McCarthy. If it’s the last thing I do.
Peter stalked toward the saloon, determination pounding into the ground with every step. The moment he saw Layla, however, the anger, tension, and frustration he felt began to melt away. Layla was smiling and talking to Annabelle, who was seated at the bar with another basket in front of her.
“More treats?” he called as he walked into the saloon.
Annabelle and Layla looked in his direction. “Maybe,” Annabelle replied with a smile. “It depends. Do yah like tarts?”
“That I do, ma’am,” Peter replied as he took off his hand and ran his hand through his dark brown hair.
“Good,” Layla replied. “I made these this morning, and Annabelle was just bringing them over.”
“You did?” Peter questioned.
“You sound surprised,” Layla replied as she regarded him gently.
Peter smiled as he pushed the conversation he’d just heard to the back of his mind. “I am. How did you ever find the time?”
“I wake early,” Layla replied.
“Well, let’s have some,” he declared. Annabelle opened the basket immediately and Peter stood by, waiting to sample Layla’s handiwork. He watched as the young woman smiled and laughed at Annabelle’s compliments about her baking skills. He couldn’t let Jacob rob Layla of this. He couldn’t allow the man to trap her once more. He looked at her affectionately.
I’m going to protect you, Layla.
Chapter Twelve
Layla hadn’t expected Annabelle to bring the tarts to the saloon, but the moment the older woman arrived, she brought a smile to Layla’s face. Annabelle was such a comfort to Layla, especially now, but there was still a lot that she didn’t know.
The pair had only been in conversation for a few minutes when Peter arrived. The moment his figure appeared at the door, Layla couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The smile that Annabelle brought only brightened. Looking at him made her happy in a way no one else ever had. Still, she felt deceitful in enjoying his company. He didn’t know the entire truth, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
Layla watched as Peter ate one of the tarts she made that morning. She hadn’t been able to sleep, the conflict in her mind and the fear in her heart was robbing her of her rest. She decided to do something constructive during that time.
Anticipation filled her stomach as she waited for Peter’s opinion of the treat, and when it came, it made her day.
“Layla, this is excellent,” he declared with a large grin. “Either that, or I’m so hungry my taste buds have all gone super sensitive,” he mused.
“Thank you,” she replied as she laughed at his joke. “Your lunch is waiting for you in the kitchen.”
Peter’s gaze met hers. “Thank you, Layla.”
Her cheeks warmed at his response. “You’re welcome,” she replied sweetly. Peter’s eyes lingered on her for several more seconds before he turned to Annabelle.
“Excuse me, Miss Annabelle, I’ve got to get my lunch and head back to work,” he said.
“The job of a lawman is never done I expect,” Annabelle replied. “Go on, get yer lunch. Layla and I’ll be just fine right here.” Once more, Peter’s gazed lingered on her before he turned and headed to the kitchen.
“Best of men,” Annabelle said quietly.
“He surely is,” Layla replied as her eyes remained focused on the doors that Peter had just disappeared behind.
“I think yer very fond of him,” Annabelle commented with a smirk. Layla turned to look at her.
“It doesn’t matter if I am,” she replied sadly. “Fondness can’t escape the truth.” There was no hope for her and Peter as long as Jacob was in the picture, but try as she might, Layla was still too afraid to do the one thing that could remove him from it.
“What do yah mean, Layla?” Annabelle’s forehead wrinkled more than usual as she looked at her.
The weight that rested on Layla’s shoulders was too much to bear alone. She had to tell someone, and Annabelle was the only person she trusted, apart from Peter.
Layla looked around. There was no one there but her and Annabelle; still, she lowered her voice. “I have something to tell you,” she began. “A secret.”
The older woman’s expression didn’t falter. She kept her eyes on Layla and waited quietly for an explanation.
“When I came to Richstone, it wasn’t just because I wanted something new. It was because I was running. I was afraid,” she admitted.
“I know,” Layla said with a small smile that soon faded as the pressure of the truth bore down on her. “There’s more. I’ve been keeping this from everyone, and you can’t tell anyone else once I tell you.”
“Who would I tell?” Annabelle replied. “You’re the closest one to me. You and Peter.”
Layla sighed. “He already knows.”
Annabelle’s brow rose. “He does? I see. Then why don’t yah tell me so I can be in on all the hush-hush.”
Layla’s looked at Annabelle sadly. How would she react once she knew the truth? There was only one way to find out. Layla took a deep breath and let the words tumble from her lips. “I’m married.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected, but what she received was far from it. “And?”
“I ran away from my husband,” Layla confessed.
“Was he mean to yah?” Annabelle asked. Layla nodded. “Then yah was right to run away,” the older woman answered. “It’s foolish to stay where yah ain’t safe.”
“I know,” Layla agreed. “Aren’t you angry at me for not saying anything before now?”
“Why should I be? It’s your business, darlin’ girl, not mine. You tell me what yah think I ought to know, and nothing more. I’ve never pressed yah to know what made yah come ‘ere,” Annabelle answered. “I always figured you’d tell me when the time was right.” She smiled warmly. “I guess the time’s right now.”
“That’s not all,” Layla continued. “He’s here.”
“Who?” Annabelle stared at Layla intently, her expression warm and comforting. Layla was admitting one of the hardest things she’d ever had to own up to, yet Annabelle made her feel as if it wasn’t that much at all. It was easier to tell the older woman than it had been to admit the truth to Peter.
“My husband,” Layla answered. “He’s found me.” Layla looked over her shoulder to the kitchen. The doors remained closed and there was silence from the other side.
“He wants you back?” Annabelle asked. Layla loved the older woman’s directness; it saved her a lot of time explaining.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Do yah want to go back?” Annabelle continued her questioning.
There was the question of the day. Layla met her friend’s gaze. She shook her head. “No,” she answered. “But I’m not sure if that’s right.”
“Why?” the older woman inquired seriously.
“Because Jacob—that’s his name—because he’s different. It’s like I left one man and another one has come to find me.” She met Annabelle’s eyes. “He wants me back. He says he’s sorry for all he’s done to me. He says he sees now the pain he caused and the hurt, and he wants to make amends.”
“Do you want that?”
“I used to,” Layla admitted. She stepped out from behind the bar and came to stand before her friend as she faced the kitchen. She couldn’t bear the thought that Peter might walk in on them talking and hear something she wasn’t ready for him to know. This way, she could look at Annabelle and keep an eye on the kitchen door at the same time.
“Marriage isn’t a light thing,” Annabelle replied solemnly. “When I married, it was fer life. Only death parted me and my husband.” She smiled at Layla gently. “I expect it was the same as you when you married.”
Layla nodded silently.
Annabelle sighed. “Now that he’s found you, and he’s sayin’ all the right things, yer wonderin’ if he doesn’t deserve one more chance? Or if yer being fair to someone else in this mess,” she added with a knowing gaze.
“Miss Annabelle, I don’t love Jacob. However, he’s got something over me that I can’t shake, and I’m afraid if I try to end our marriage and divorce him, he might use it to hurt those I care about and steal everything I’ve built here,” Layla confessed tearfully.
A frown painted Annabelle’s features, causing her already lined face to crease further. “What can he have on yah?”
The words were on the tip of her tongue, and still, Layla couldn’t utter them. “He knows my past,” she said instead. “He knows where I really came from. That I had no one and was no one,” she replied. “He’s the only one who could tell the town that I’m really married and spoil the image I’ve created here. He’d make me a liar to everyone.”
“Are yah worried about the town, or someone in particular?” Annabelle asked quizzically.
Layla’s gaze lowered. “I don’t want Peter to think ill of me,” she admitted. “He seems to have accepted what I’ve told him, but I can’t be sure. What if he hasn’t? What if what he thinks of me has changed?”
“Why would that matter?” Annabelle questioned. There was a knowing smirk on her face.
“Because I care about what he thinks of me,” Layla told her. Her eyes rose to meet Annabelle’s. “Because I couldn’t bear for him to think badly of me.”
Annabelle’s hand rose to take her arm gently. “Say it, child.”
“Because I care about Peter,” she confessed. “Very much.”
“Do yah think he cares about you?”
“I think so,” Layla answered.
Annabelle smiled. “So do I, and I’ve known Peter a lot longer than you’ve known him,” she said. “I also know that he doesn’t change his opinion just like that. He’s a level-headed man who takes everythin’ into consideration. The kind who looks at the situation and finds the truth in it. It’s what he does all day,” Annabelle continued. “He will see the truth in all this. I know he will.”
Layla’s expression slackened. Annabelle’s words were meant to comfort, but they did little of that. Her assurance that Peter would see the truth only worsened the sickening feeling in her stomach. If Peter ever found out that Jacob was an outlaw, and that she’d been with him all the years he’d been committing his crimes—what would he think then?
“When a man truly cares for yah, what you’ve done doesn’t matter and it don’t matter who yah were. What matters is who yah are now, and I know who that is,” Annabelle said as she touched Layla’s cheek gently. “So does Peter.”
Layla leaned forward and gave Annabelle a hug.
“I think yer problem isn’t what he thinks or what other’s think, but what you think about yerself,” Annabelle said softly as she patted Layla’s back. “Yah have to forgive yerself,” she added. “Forgive and move forward.”
Layla stepped back to look at Annabelle. The older woman was smiling at her. It made Layla smile, too.
“Whoever this man is that yer married to, if he was any kinda man, he would’ve treated yah right from the start,” she stated. “However, yah can’t just run around town fallin’ in love with people when yer married to someone else. That sorta thing ain’t done. Yer gonna have to make it right. Yah have to end things with this man if yah ever want a chance to have somethin’ with someone else. Don’t let the fear of anythin’ stop yah. Yah know what yah have to do. Now do it.”
Annabelle stopped speaking just as the kitchen door opened, and Peter stepped out with his lunch in hand. Immediately, his eyes met Layla’s, and she felt her heart begin to race.
“I thought I’d eat out here,” he said. He had a large bowl of stew in his hand and Layla could see several biscuits peeking over the top of it. “Am I interrupting something?”
Annabelle looked at Layla and laughed. “No, nothin’ at all,” she answered. “I was just tellin’ Layla how she needs to go for her dreams.”
Layla’s gaze shifted to Annabelle nervously before turning back to Peter, who was looking at her with a strange expression on his face.
“I hope she listens to you,” he answered.
“I will,” Layla answered as she smiled at him gently. “You’d better get to eating your lunch,” Layla continued. “You have to get back to work soon.”
“I have time,” Peter replied as he seated himself at a nearby table and looked at her thoughtfully. “You two care to join me? I’d love more of those tarts,” he ad
ded with a grin.
Layla laughed. “Sure thing,” she answered as she plucked the basket from the bar and walked over to where he was sitting. She heard Annabelle following behind her.
The two women sat with him as Peter dove into his stew. Layla had eaten some earlier and knew that it was some of the best cooking to come out of the kitchen in a few days. The cook, Brigham, wasn’t feeling well and his cooking reflected it. It lacked the flavor they were accustomed to, but since he’d begun to recover, the food’s taste had improved.
Layla watched Peter eat as he and Annabelle began to talk. He was such a carefree man, despite the work he did. Layla couldn’t imagine that his job was an easy one, but yet Peter made it seem easy. She also couldn’t believe he could still look at her the way he did even though he knew the truth.
