His Blessing in Disguise: A Western Historical Romance Novel

by Ava Winters

  Peter got to his feet. “Well, then I really need to get to work,” he answered with a laugh as he turned to the far wall and began to inspect it for signs of termite infestation.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It had been a long day and Layla was exhausted. It was Friday, and the saloon was full all night long. Her feet ached and so did her back. The only thing Layla wanted to see was her bed—and it wasn’t close enough.

  “Are you ready, Peter?” Layla asked as she walked toward the door.

  “Yes.” He walked up behind her. The rest of the saloon was closed up and everyone had gone home. They were the last ones there. Peter closed the door as Layla stood out on the walkway outside the saloon. It was one in the morning and the wind was chilly. She rubbed her arms with her hands as she waited for Peter to finish closing up.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he began to walk. Layla followed him.

  They walked next to each other for several feet before Peter stopped. “Shucks,” he exclaimed.

  “What?” Layla asked, coming to a stop just ahead of him.

  “I forgot something at the saloon.” He looked back at the path they’d left. “I have to go back.”

  Layla sighed. She didn’t want to have to go back and walk the same path again. Her feet were hurting enough as it was. “You go,” she urged. “I’ll stay here.”

  Peter looked at her. “I think you should come with me.”

  Layla shook her head. “My feet are killin’ me. I can’t walk back, and back again. I just can’t,” she insisted.

  “I have to go. It’s the money to be deposited in the morning. I can’t leave it in there,” Peter replied. “I left it under the bar; it isn’t even in the safe.”

  Layla’s eyes widened. “You definitely need to go get that, then. I’ll wait here.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Peter turned and jogged back toward the saloon. Layla watched him go, but soon her aching feet caused her to divert her attention. She leaned back against the darkened store window beside her, putting her weight on her heels to ease some of the pain in her toes.

  Richstone was so still at that time of the morning, and Layla was unafraid. She’d walked the streets of the town at many different times and never once felt threatened. The stillness allowed her to hear the sounds of the houses on the outskirts of town—nothing clear, but the soft murmur of those who were still moving around their homes. And there was, of course, the faint sounds of the wild animals in the hills. They were sounds that had come to mean comfort to Layla. She took a deep breath and looked up at the dark sky with his brilliant splattering of stars. Richstone was truly a wonderful place.

  Layla closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she almost screamed. There, standing before her, was Jacob, peering at her with those dark blue eyes. She looked at her husband in dismay and confusion. What was he doing there at that time of night?

  “What’re you doing here?” she gasped.

  “I was waitin’ for yah to finish up,” Jacob informed her. “I didn’t want yah walkin’ home on yer own.”

  “I’m fine,” Layla responded. Her eyes darted toward the saloon. There was no sign of Peter, and Layla’s heart was beginning to flutter like bird’s wings in her chest.

  “Layla, are yah gonna give me another chance?”

  She couldn’t breathe at the question. Jacob sounded desperate, as if he truly wanted her back. She shook her head sadly. “I don’t think so Jacob,” she told him.

  “Why not?” he demanded gently. “I know I was a horrible husband, but I’ve changed. I’ve been workin’ hard to be different. I gave up robbin’ and all that, just to have you back. I spend my days bent over a pan looking fer gold, just so I can build somethin’ fer the two of us. I really want to show you how serious I am.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Layla replied. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

  “Is it the deputy sheriff?” Jacob asked.

  Layla’s heart faltered. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Come on, Layla, I ain’t blind. I see the way yah look at each other. He’s walkin’ yah home now, and I hear he walks you to work, too. Trying to keep me away?”

  Layla was speechless, and suddenly, she was trembling. “Jacob…”

  “I ain’t mad at yah,” he continued, unperturbed. “I’m sure he’s a good sorta fella. Someone who could turn yer head with all his nice words and kindness.” His eyes rose to hers. “But he ain’t yer husband. I am.”

  “You were never any kind of husband, Jacob. You never wanted to be. You wanted to be who you are, and that will never change. You never wanted anything that didn’t get you something in return. Marrying me was so you could have someone to handle the things you couldn’t or didn’t want to. You just wanted me to do your dirty work,” she retorted.

  Jacob stepped closer and immediately his hands reached up to grab her arms. Layla tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go. She was standing between him and a storefront. She stared at him as fear bubbled in her stomach and threatened to unsettle her dinner.

  “Layla, listen to me,” he insisted. “Things can be different. I’m tellin’ yah, it can. I’ve done all this for you, to show yah that I can be the man I promised I could be. The man you wanted. Just give me a chance, Layla. I can be a different man.”

  “For how long?” Layla asked shakily.

  “What?”

  “For how long?” she repeated. “For a month? Two? A week?” She shook her head and gently pushed his hands off of her arms. “Your sweet words lasted two months after we got married. Then, it all changed, and you became the man you always were. The man it was easiest for you to be.”

  “That ain’t fair, Layla. I wasn’t tryin’ then,” Jacob replied with an eerie calm. He stepped back to look at her fully.

  “You’re supposed to be trying now?” she asked. “I can’t see it. I don’t even think I can believe it,” she continued. “Am I supposed to risk my future on a couple of weeks of good behavior on your part? Am I?”

  “I was stupid when we met. I was selfish, and I was all you’ve said. That was then, and this is now,” Jacob insisted. “I’ve grown up. What was important to me then, isn’t important to me anymore.”

  “And what is important to you?” Layla questioned.

  “You are,” Jacob insisted as once again he stepped closer. “But yah have to give me a fair shot. This thing with you and the deputy, it isn’t fair.”

  “There is nothing between me and Peter,” Layla insisted. She hoped that it was believable. There was nothing between them—nothing spoken, that is—but in her heart, there was more than enough between her and Peter. There was everything she wanted between them.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Jacob said coolly. “I ain’t no fool. I know women, and I know what the looks the two of yah been exchangin’ mean. Yer sweet on him and he’s sweet on you.”

  “Jacob…”

  “Does he know yer married?” he demanded.

  Layla bristled and swallowed down the lump that was steadily crawling up her throat. “Yes, he does.”

  Jacob laughed. “And he’s still makin’ eyes at yah?”

  “He doesn’t make eyes at me, Jacob. You’re being ridiculous,” Layla insisted.

  “Layla, I am yer husband. Whatever this deputy feels for yah has nothin’ to do with me, unless you make it an issue. I deserve the right to make things better between us. I took you out of that boarding house and made yah my wife. Those vows meant something, and there ain’t nothin’ that breaks them—”

  “Except divorce,” Layla interrupted.

  Jacob met her eye. “And we ain’t divorced.”

  “Yes,” Layla answered.

  Jacob’s cool demeanor hardened. “You lookin’ to divorce me Layla?” he questioned.

  She took a deep breath. This was going to happen sooner or later, but the sight of Peter’s approaching form made it easier to do now. “Yes,” she answered. “I’ve divorc
ing you, Jacob. I don’t wanna be your wife. I want you out of my life, and me out of yours.”

  “Layla, you can’t mean that,” Jacob insisted.

  “I do. It’s over between us, Jacob. Leave me alone,” she pleaded as Peter stepped up onto the walkway.

  “I love you, Layla, and I’m not givin’ up. I’ve changed and I’ll prove it to yah. I’ll show you this lawman has nothin’ on us. I’ll make you remember the good times we had, and I’ll show you that it can be that way again.”

  “Everything alright, Layla?” Peter asked. His eyes were fixed on Jacob, despite the fact that he was speaking to her.

  She stepped out from between the store and Jacob and walked to Peter’s side. Her feet still hurt, but it was negligible for the moment as she stood with the man who had once laid claim to her heart, and the one who now did.

  Jacob looked at Layla, and for the first time, she realized that what she had just done might not have been wise. What if Jacob wanted to get back at her? What if he told Peter that truth? The thought quickly left her mind. Jacob wouldn’t tell Peter that he was an outlaw, it would mean his instant arrest. A sigh of relief filled her lungs as she watched her enraged husband.

  “Everything’s fine,” she answered, finally.

  Peter continued to look at Jacob. “Is that so?”

  Jacob, who had refused to look at Peter up until that point, now turned his attention to him. He smiled. “Yes sir, Deputy. Everything is just fine. Me and Layla were just talkin’. I thought she was walking home on her own and I was concerned fer her safety, is all.” He turned back to her. “But she let me know that she’s well taken care of… for the moment. I was just lettin’ her know that I’m right here.”

  Peter’s gaze turned to hers but Layla couldn’t meet his eyes. She was trapped in Jacob’s, in the cool, determined gaze that held her bound. It was a Jacob she had never seen before. The look made her heart beat faster and her mind reel. Did he really mean he wasn’t going to give up? What did that really mean? Would he fight her if she tried to divorce him?

  “Let’s go, Layla,” Peter suggested. He took her arm and hooked it around his.

  Jacob nodded his head. “Good night, Deputy. Layla,” he said as he continued to look at her. “I’ll be seeing yah… Mrs. McCarthy.”

  Peter stopped and Layla could tell he wanted to say something.

  She stopped him with a firm squeeze on his arm. He looked down at her. “Please. Let’s go.”

  Jacob’s gaze lingered on her and Peter for a moment before he stalked off into the night. She turned to watch him go as Peter did the same. Then, he was gone.

  “Did he hurt you?” Peter asked as her eyes still lingered into the dark where Jacob has gone. Once she was sure her husband was gone, she turned and looked back at Peter.

  “No,” she answered with a weak smile. “He just wanted to talk to me. He wanted to walk me home.”

  “Are you sure?” Peter pressed.

  She nodded. “I told him I was planning on divorcing him,” she admitted. “He was hurt. He didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Did he threaten you?” Peter asked.

  “No,” Layla assured him. “Nothing like that.” Her voice dropped. “He pleaded with me. He asked for another chance. He said that it could be better between us.”

  “Layla, you don’t believe him do you?” Peter asked earnestly.

  “No,” she replied. “But I feel terrible all the same. He really has been trying,” she told him. “It’s just in vain. I don’t wanna go back. He just can’t accept that.”

  Peter’s expression stilled, and he looked at her sadly. “I understand how he feels.”

  Layla looked up at him in shock. “You do?”

  “Yes,” Peter explained. “He loves you. Maybe he didn’t once, but he does now, and he realizes what he had and he doesn’t want to lose you.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s just too late. Isn’t it?”

  Layla smiled up at Peter. She nodded. “Far too late.”

  “Good,” he answered. “Now, let’s get you home. Annabelle will be worried if she doesn’t see you soon.”

  “That’s true,” Layla agreed as they began to walk. “She likes to stay up and wait for me, especially now.”

  “She worries about you,” Peter replied. “She loves you like her own child. She just wants to be sure you’re safe and sound.”

  “I know. I love it. She makes me feel like we’re family, and not just friends.”

  “You are her family,” Peter insisted. “You became her family the day she let you walk in her front door, and you will always be her family as long as you’re alive.”

  “And what about you? Are you family?”

  “I’m a nephew,” Peter joked.

  “So what does that make us?” she asked tentatively.

  Peter’s eyes met hers. “Meant to be, I guess,” he replied, and Layla’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Peter,” she began. “Do you think that… if we’d met before I knew Jacob, and before Celia, what might’ve happened? Do you think that we could’ve…”

  “Fallen in love?” he finished.

  Layla nodded silently. She was terrified and yet eager to hear what he’d say. What did he think of that? Did he think there could be something between them? Or was she feeling this all on her own and just misunderstanding all of his looks and words?

  “Yes,” he replied clearly. “I think we would’ve fallen deeply in love.”

  Layla wanted to ask more, but she couldn’t. She was afraid that if she asked Peter how he felt, she might not hear what she wanted—or worse, she might. What would she do if a man like Peter Jones told her that he loved her? She wasn’t sure she’d know how to act. People like Peter never paid her any mind, but for some reason, he did.

  Layla hugged Peter’s arm tighter as the pain in her feet once again made itself clearly known. She hobbled next to him.

  “Lean on me,” Peter instructed, wrapping his arm around her waist to hold up most of her weight. Layla draped her arm around his neck and allowed Peter to support her.

  They walked to her front door, where they found a light on in the window. Annabelle was still up.

  “Thank you,” Layla said as she unwound her arm from Peter’s neck.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied. “I’ll come by in the morning to walk you to work.”

  Layla smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The saloon had a small crowd for lunch that day, and as it had been for the past several days, Jacob McCarthy was amongst them. He was seated at the bar, near Layla, while his friends occupied a table not far away.

  Peter stood near the door of the saloon and watched with his head down and his hat pulled low over his eyes. It was a skill he’d picked up long ago. It was the best way to watch a man while looking as if you were sleeping. Peter had done it a hundred times—this was just a hundred and one.

  What is she doing?

  Peter didn’t understand what was going on. Layla said she told Jacob she was divorcing him, yet as far as he could tell, she hadn’t met with the solicitor yet. Worse, Jacob hadn’t backed off.

  Every day, Jacob McCarthy came into the saloon and, day-by-day, Peter watched as he tried to spend more and more time around Layla. At first, she’d done her best to avoid him, but recently, he’d realized she wasn’t doing that anymore. When Jacob came in and started to talk with her, she talked back. Sometimes, she even smiled, and every time he saw her smile at him, it made Peter crazy inside.

  Did she want to be with Jacob or not? Did she want to stay married? Or not? What was she doing? Was she scared? Was that it? Was Jacob doing something to make her afraid and she wasn’t telling him about it? Had he missed something? Peter was with Layla most hours of the day, if he could help it. It was unlikely, but it had to be something like that. What else could it be?

  Jacob had something on Layla. He had to; what other reason could there be for her to delay in getting the divor
ce? The man was holding something over her head, and Peter was determined to find out what it was. He wasn’t going to let anyone hold Layla hostage. She needed him, and he was going to be there for her.

  "If you look at that man any harder, your eyes are bound to pop out your head," Bill stated as he sidled up beside Peter. He laid a heavy hand on Peter's shoulder. When he squeezed gently, Peter forced himself to look up.

  Their eyes met and Peter instantly wished he hadn’t. Pity filled Bill’s gaze as he looked down at him. Peter hated it. He didn't want pity. He wanted answers. He wanted Jacob McCarthy out of Layla's life and out of Richstone, yesterday.