His Blessing in Disguise: A Western Historical Romance Novel

by Ava Winters

  "He isn't going nowhere as long as she's here and you know that," the older man continued. He always seemed to know what Peter was thinking, and this time was no different. "The two of you are like two hound dogs after that girl, but neither of you is gonna get anywhere unless she says so."

  "She has," Peter insisted as his gaze turned back to the woman in question. Layla was pouring a new patron a glass of something clear, probably gin.

  "She just hasn't done anything," Bill added. His hand remained on Peter’s shoulder. Peter wanted to brush it off, but he didn’t. Bill was right, he couldn’t blame the older man for that.

  "Have you asked her why she hasn't met with the solicitor yet?" Bill asked in a hushed tone. No one was to know about the matter they were discussing, and Peter appreciated his friend’s willingness to keep the secret.

  Peter shook his head. "I'm sure she has her reasons."

  "I'm sure she does, but it would be nice for other people to know what they are—especially if they're waiting to see what their future may hold," Bill elaborated. "Something isn't right here. There's something missing, and you know it."

  "I know," Peter agreed as he turned his attention back to Layla, who stood at the bar pouring Jacob another drink. She smiled at him and Peter's stomach tightened. Why was she smiling? Jacob didn't deserve her smiles. He did. Jacob didn't love her. He did.

  Jealous much?

  The thought made everything stop. Was he jealous?

  Peter had never been a man who envied or coveted. He had what was his and he never wanted what belonged to another—but at that moment, as he watched Layla talking to her husband, he was jealous. He wanted what Jacob McCarthy had. He wanted Layla.

  "You need to talk to her and find out what's what. I understand there may be things we don't know about, and I can appreciate that. I can also agree that they might not be my business, but you, my friend, are. I can't stand here watching you tear yourself up over this girl when you aren't even sure if anything will come from it. She needs to make her feelings plain, and so do you."

  Peter heard Bill's stilted steps as they walked away from him. He didn't turn around as he considered his friend's words. He did have to get the truth from Layla, and the sooner the better.

  He didn't hesitate. His feet took off before his mind could think to move. He stalked across the room to the bar and leaned over it slightly. "Layla, may I talk to you in my office a minute?"

  "Sure," she replied, somewhat nervously. Jacob was watching him, but Peter didn't meet his eye. He wanted to talk to Layla, not Jacob. There was nothing he had to say to the man.

  Peter turned and walked into his office. He waited by the door for Layla to follow, and once she was inside, he shut the door. Layla walked to the center of the room and then turned to look at him. "What is it, Peter? Is something wrong?"

  "What's going on?" he asked pointedly.

  What'd you mean?" Layla asked, confused. Her brow furrowed slightly and her head tilted just a fraction.

  "With you and Jacob? I see he's still coming around, and you're entertaining him," Peter continued.

  A small smile appeared on Layla's face. "Are you jealous?"

  Peter's jaw dropped. "Me? Jealous?" His denial was only belied by his stuttered speech.

  "You are." Layla laughed.

  "No. I just want to know what the truth is," he insisted. Layla became silent immediately. She looked at him for a long time and then exhaled a long breath.

  "I don't want to lie to you," she began. "Jacob says he won't give up until I change my mind, and he's been doing everything he can to achieve that end. He's been really sweet and understanding. He didn't even get mad about..."

  Her eyes met his and lingered a while, but she didn't finish.

  "So, you're falling for him again?" Peter questioned.

  "No. I've made it clear to Jacob that we're done," she answered, stepping closer to him. "I'm just trying to make things as simple and easy as possible."

  "Then why haven't you filed for the divorce yet?" Peter pushed, looking down at her delicate features.

  "It costs money," Layla admitted. "More than I have. It's going to take a little time to save it, but I will."

  "I can help you," Peter offered quickly.

  "I can't take your money," she refused. "It wouldn't be right."

  "Why not? I'm just trying to help you," he stated.

  "And what if someone found out you gave me that money? How would that look? No. I won't accept it. I'll do this myself."

  Why was she always trying to prove she was tough? The fact that she told him she couldn't afford the divorce was proof again that she needed help, but she was just too proud to accept it. Peter smirked. He'd speak to the solicitor and find out the cost and deal with it himself. She would never have to know how it happened; the man could simply say he took pity on her and accepted whatever it was she had.

  Yes, that's what I'll do.

  "Peter, I don't want to hurt Jacob," Layla said, to his surprise. "He wasn't good to me, but it doesn't mean I have to be cruel to him. I would like it if we could part ways friendly-like."

  He nodded. "I understand. I just don't like that man hanging around."

  "He isn't causing any problems. He's changed. He's been doing really good since he's been here. He hasn't made a fuss, and he hasn't tried to be mean to me or force me to do anything. I really think he's changed," she said gently.

  "I don't know." He'd heard the man's comments before. He wasn't sure if he was really taking to his new life or if it was all a facade for Layla's benefit. Peter suspected it was the latter, he just couldn't prove it without a doubt.

  "Neither do I," Layla agreed. "I'm hoping. That's all I can do. If he has changed it would be good for him. Everyone deserves a second chance," she said with a smile. "I got one. Maybe Jacob can have one, too."

  Peter looked into her hopeful hazel eyes and wished with all his heart she was right, but the knot in his stomach told him otherwise. That knot had grown in the passing days and Peter was sure something big was about to happen, but as always, he wasn't sure what it was.

  "Was that it?" Layla questioned.

  "Yes," Peter admitted sheepishly. "I just wanted to know where you stood."

  "Right here," she answered with a smirk. "I have no intention of moving."

  He smiled. "Are you and Annabelle still expecting me over this Sunday to continue working on the house?"

  "Yes, we are," Layla confirmed. "I'm making something special for lunch that day, so we expect you to be there on time to get some work in before we eat. You get a bit sluggish after," she pointed out.

  "Only that one time, because I had that second helping of pecan pie." Peter laughed. He'd fallen asleep in Annabelle's rocking chair on a particularly hot day, after a very filling lunch. Annabelle and Layla had refused to wake him and by the time he woke on his own, it was already supper time. Layla had teased him about it ever since.

  She had a wonderful laugh and Peter was enjoying listening to it. Why did she have to go back out to work? Why couldn't they stay locked in his office, just the two of them?

  "I better head out," she said demurely. "People might wonder what's taking me so long."

  Peter nodded. "Right. You should go."

  "Are you staying with me to lock up tonight?" Layla asked, lingering by the door. She looked over the shoulder her long hair had draped over like a curtain.

  "Yes. I'll be right here with you," Peter assured her as he tried to suppress a grin.

  Layla made no attempt to hide her own smile as she nodded and then stepped through the door and back into the saloon.

  He had his answers. He might not have wanted to ask, but he had, and the results were rewarding. He now knew where she stood and where he could help. He was going to help get Layla to where she wanted to be. He was going to be the man she needed.

  I might not have been able to give Celia the attention she deserved, but I'm going to give Layla everything I have to make sure she'
s happy. I'll be who she needs.

  "It's time I showed her how committed I am," Peter resolved. He knew exactly how.

  Peter marched out of his office and straight out the door of the saloon. He didn’t bother to say anything to anyone; his mind was focused and he was determined.

  He strode to the sheriff’s office, where he found Bill there sitting with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand and a pot of coffee sitting on the table next to him. “You’re done glaring?”

  “That job still open?” Peter asked unceremoniously.

  Bill set his sandwich down. “Yes, of course, it is. Why? Do you know someone who might be interested?”

  “I might.”

  Bill got to his feet. “You might, or you do?”

  Peter met his eye. “I do.”

  “You sure about this?” Bill asked, putting his hands on his hips. “You were so adamant that you weren’t going to take the job and that I should find someone else. Why the change?”

  “I realize I need to commit,” Peter answered. “I need to show everyone in this town—and myself—that I have what it takes to take care of the people of Richstone. It’s time that I stepped up and took the responsibility I’ve been given, and take it all the way.”

  A large grin slowly spread across Bill’s face at his words. “It’s about time!”

  Peter laughed as Bill hobbled in his direction and pulled him into a bear hug. He patted Peter’s back approvingly. “I’ve been waiting for you,” his friend informed him. “I didn’t even bother to advertise the post. I knew you’d come around, eventually.”

  Peter looked at Bill incredulously. “You knew that I’d take the job?”

  “Of course,” Bill replied confidently. “I always knew this job was for you, even if you didn’t know it yourself. I was just waiting until something came along to snap the truth into you.” Bill looked at him thoughtfully. “I think someone finally came and gave you that nudge.”

  “I guess they did,” Peter replied with a smile.

  “Once you take this step, there isn’t any going back,” Bill cautioned. “Once I make the announcement to the mayor, you’re going to be Richstone’s new sheriff, even if he doesn’t make it known immediately. I’m tired, Pete. I can’t do this job the way I used to, and my wife needs me at home. It’s time I turned my focus to something else.”

  “I understand, Bill. I’ll take care of everything for you,” Peter assured his friend.

  “Then I guess the only thing left to do is let the mayor know and let things go from there,” Bill stated, patting Peter’s back approvingly.

  Pride swelled in Peter’s chest as he stood with Bill. He was ready to take the next step in his life. Peter had spent the past few years stuck in one place. He’d been happy to be there, but now he wanted more—not only for his romantic life, but his life in general. It was time for Peter Jones to become the man he knew he was meant to be. The man he knew he was all along.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Peter had rushed out of the saloon as if he was being chased by wolves. Layla’s gaze followed him, but he didn’t turn around.

  “What’s with him?” Jacob asked as she wiped down the bar.

  Layla shrugged.

  “You in some kinda trouble?” he pressed.

  “No,” she answered. “Why would I be?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because he’s been watching us together for a while. I thought maybe he saw something he didn’t like,” Jacob said with a smile.

  Layla stilled. Did Jacob think because she was being nice to him that there was something more?

  “There’s nothing for him to see,” she replied shortly. “There isn’t anything going on between us, Jacob,” she said as she met his eye. “Don’t get confused, I’m just being nice to you. As soon as I have things together, I’m gonna do what I told you I’d do. I just didn’t want there to be an issue between us. I wanted us to part ways friendly.”

  Jacob leaned back on the barstool and stared at her. It was an icy glare, one that Layla knew well. The kind that made her blood run cold and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He opened his mouth to speak, but thankfully, Annabelle appeared at that moment.

  “Hello there,” the older woman greeted as she stepped up beside Jacob. He didn’t acknowledge her presence; instead, he got up from the stool and promptly walked out of the saloon. “Did I do something?”

  “No, I did,” Layla replied as she watched Jacob go. His band of merry men didn’t follow him.

  “What happened?” Annabelle asked.

  Layla shook her head gently. “I tried to be nice and he took it the wrong way,” she answered. “I guess he thought that him coming around was wearing me down, or something. That I’d changed my mind about everything.”

  “But yah haven’t, right?” Annabelle slid herself onto the stool Jacob had vacated.

  “Of course not,” Layla answered as she dried out the inside of a large glass mug. “I just didn’t want things to be ugly. I thought being nice would smooth things over and make it easier for Jacob to accept.”

  Annabelle shook her head as she gave Layla a sympathetic smile. “Child, nothin’ will make this easier on that man,” she answered. “He’s been doin’ all these things to prove himself to yah. Did yah really think that being his friend would make it alright when yah left him?”

  Layla sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just knew I was liking this new Jacob, and I thought that maybe things didn’t have to be bad between us anymore. I thought we could move past that and be civil.”

  “A man like that doesn’t understand civil, honey. He understands the world in black and white. Yer his or you ain’t. There’s no middle,” Annabelle countered.

  “I made a mistake?”

  “Maybe,” Annabelle admitted. “But yah can’t change it now. He’s gonna have to lick his wounds and deal with what’s to come.”

  It felt as if she was doing everything wrong. All she wanted was for everyone to be happy in the end, including Jacob. He really seemed changed, though the look he’d given her a moment before made her wonder if there still wasn’t something left of the old man inside him.

  You’re right to divorce him. The thought made Layla set the mug down. She had to close the door on her past if she wanted any kind of real future. Jacob was in that past. It was good that he’d changed and it was good he had started over, but so had she, and she wasn’t turning back now. They could both make new lives in Richstone, and be the people they wanted to be. Life could be good for everyone.

  “Who stole my money?”

  Layla’s eyes shot up at the sound of the enraged voice that interrupted her thoughts.

  “No one stole yer money. Sit down,” another voice answered.

  “You did it!” the first man replied as he chucked the other, causing him to fall from his seat. “I want my money!”

  Now what?

  Layla stepped out from behind the bar and quickly crossed the room to where the two men were now standing, staring each other in the eye with clenched fists.

  “Hold it there, boys,” she warned as she stepped between them and placed a firm hand on each of their chests. “I don’t want any trouble. So how about we figure this out?”

  “This son of a rattlesnake stole my money,” the first man accused. He wasn’t a frequent visitor, but Layla thought his name was Buck.

  “Yah damn liar!” the other man retorted. “I didn’t steal nothin’ from you.”

  “Alright,” Layla interrupted firmly. “I said we’re figuring this out, not calling each other names.” She turned to face Buck. “How much did you lose?”

  “I had my money bag right on my hip and now it’s gone,” he answered. He was still glaring over her shoulder, but Layla wasn’t paying any mind to that. She wasn’t about to let these two men tear up the saloon, especially since she was in charge in Peter’s absence.

  Layla could smell the alcohol on Buck’s breath as he spoke. He was clearly a little i
ntoxicated. He must’ve had his own flask, she thought. I didn’t serve him that much.

  “Besides sitting at the table, where else did you go?” she speculated.

  Buck turned around to show her and the second he did, Layla smiled. There, hanging from the back of his belt, was his money bag. She took hold of it and pulled it around to the front. “What’re yah doin’?” he demanded.

  “Just showing you this,” she replied as she released the pouch. “It probably got pushed around when you were moving.”