by Ava Winters
He started the stove and got to work preparing their meal. He cooked the potatoes and mashed them as he roasted the vegetables in the oven and warmed the cold meat. Finally, when everything was ready, he turned off the burner and left the meal in the oven to keep warm while he went to collect Layla from the saloon.
Peter strolled toward the saloon with a smile on his face. He stopped for a moment when he saw Jacob leaving the building. His hands balled into fists at the sight of the man. He was trying to keep calm, but whenever he saw Jacob, a fire sparked inside him. The man was no good and he wanted to bring trouble to Layla. Peter wanted him gone, but he couldn’t force Jacob to leave. There was the law to uphold and Peter would do that.
He continued to the saloon as Jacob sent daggers at him with his eyes. Peter ignored him and entered the building. The saloon was almost entirely empty; just the usual late drinkers lingered, some who had drunk far too much. Peter would help Layla get them out of the saloon so they could leave for dinner.
Layla stepped out from behind the bar to greet him. “You’re here,” she said with a smile. “I’m not quite ready,” she added as she looked around.
“I can see that,” Peter replied. “It’s alright. I’ll help you. You handle the patrons and I’ll clean up the bar. Who is going to lock up?”
Peter watched as Layla went to each of the patrons who had passed their limit, and gently persuaded them that it was time to leave. She brought the used glasses to him at the bar and he took them into the kitchen to wash. Peter scrubbed the glasses carefully and left them to dry. When he came out, one of the waitresses was at the bar serving drinks to one of the remaining patrons.
He was silent as he watched Layla finish her work. He helped where he could and, soon, everything was finished. “Ready now?”
“Yes,” she replied as she left the key for the waitress to lock the door. They were almost to the door when Layla turned around and rushed into the kitchen. She came back with a covered dish in her hands. “Dessert,” she told him with a smile. “You should always bring a gift to dinner.”
Peter chuckled. “I’m glad you did. I didn’t have time to make something sweet,” he admitted. “I’m not that good at it, anyway. I’m privileged to have the best baker in town bringing me pie for supper.”
“I’m not the best baker in town,” Layla replied, a bashful smile spreading across her face.
“I think so,” he asserted. “We’d better go, before it gets too late.”
Layla nodded and followed him.
Peter kept his eyes vigilant as they stepped out onto the road. He had the feeling that they were being watched, and he was sure he knew who it was.
“Shall we?” Layla said with a sweet smile.
Peter took her arm and hooked it in his. It was past nine, but it was bright outside due to the full moon.
“I like full moons,” Layla said thoughtfully as she looked up at the sky. “They’re so beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” Peter commented.
She blushed. “Thank you.”
They walked in silence and Peter enjoyed the company. He didn’t need a lot of conversation; he just needed her there, beside him. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman, and she wanted to be with him, in his life. The thought brought a smile to his face.
They reached the house and Peter felt a twinge of trepidation. What would she think of his house? There was only one way to find out.
“Here we are,” he announced outside the door. “I know it isn’t special, but it’s mine.”
Layla placed her hand on Peter’s forearm. “Whatever you have is fine by me,” she assured him.
Peter smiled and opened the door.
Layla looked around the house appreciatively, but Peter’s stomach was in knots as he waited for her to say something. Did she like it? Did she think it was too sparse for a man who’d lived in the town as long as he had?
“It’s lovely,” Layla said finally. “It’s cozy and warm,” she added, smiling at him. “Where should I put this?”
“Follow me,” Peter said, and relief washed over him. He walked toward the kitchen with Layla following close behind. “Have a seat,” he invited as moved to the oven and got the food out. He set the table as Layla watched on, then he placed the pie in the oven. It was still warm from its earlier use and would add some warmth to the room-temperature pie. Finally, they were ready to eat.
Peter said grace and they began to serve themselves. “I hope you enjoy,” he said as he stuck his fork into a slice of ham and placed it on his plate.
“It smells wonderful,” Layla said reassuringly. “Did you do all of this yourself?”
“Everything but the biscuits. Those are thanks to Annabelle.”
She grinned. “I see. Annabelle likes taking care of you.”
“Yes, she does,” Peter confirmed. “She never forgets me. Whenever she has more—or maybe she just makes extra with me in mind—she never fails. She’s a really good woman.”
“That she is,” Layla agreed. “I don’t know what I’d do without her care and consideration,” she continued. “I love her.”
Peter smiled. “I’m glad you said that, because I feel the same way. She’s all alone now, but since you’re here, I know that there is someone who cares for her.”
“I’d do anything for her,” Layla replied.
Peter nodded silently.
After dinner, they took their pie into the living room area with two cups of hot coffee. Peter folded his leg over his knee and rested his plate on it as he cut the thick slice of peach pie with his fork. It was delicious. Layla’s skills were further improving.
Layla sat across from him with her own plate in her lap as she delicately broke off pieces of the pie with her fork.
“Layla?”
“Yes, Peter?” she replied.
“Is something the matter?” he finally asked. He’d tried the entire time they were eating to keep the questions out of his mouth, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He had to know what was going on with her.
Layla froze and stared at him. “Why do you say that?”
“I can see it, Layla. I know something is bothering you. Now, I don’t want to pressure you. I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I’ll listen. And I’ll help, if you let me.”
Layla continued to sit quietly. After a long pause, she sighed. “I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she admitted. “I’m trying to work through it all.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Peter asked eagerly. She was talking. He wanted to keep her talking. He knew what harboring feelings could do. He had done the same thing after Celia died. It had taken him a long time to realize that it wasn’t a good idea, and he didn’t want to see Layla to do that to herself.
She shook her head. “There isn’t anything you can do. I have to do this myself.”
“Layla, you don’t have to do this alone,” Peter assured her.
Layla didn’t answer.
“Alright, I did tell you I wouldn’t pressure you, and I won’t. I’ll say it again. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, Layla, and I want to help if you’d let me. I want to take care of you. You can’t fault me for wanting to protect you; it’s my nature,” he said with a smile.
Layla smiled back. “I know, Peter. It’s one of the things I love about you. You are a man who takes care of others and really has compassion for your fellow man. You don’t meet men like you every day.”
“I’m no one special,” Peter replied. “I just try to do what’s right.”
“Always?” Layla asked hesitantly.
“As much as I can,” Peter answered. “It comes with upholding the law. You have to do what’s right and uphold the boundaries that are set up for all of us to live in peace.”
“You’ve never bent the rules?” she pressed.
Peter’s brow wrinkled slightly at the strange question. “No. Never,” he answered. “Why?�
��
“Nothing.” Layla immediately lowered her eyes to her pie. “I was just asking,” she said dismissively.
Peter’s frown deepened. Why would Layla ask him that? He found it strange, but he didn’t want to press the issue further. As he watched Layla eat her pie, her eyes refused to meet his.
Whatever’s bothering you, I hope you’ll let me in and allow me to help. I love you, Layla. I just want you to trust me with everything. I just want you to let me in all the way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Layla lay in her bed, thinking.
Jacob was everywhere. No matter how much Layla wanted to convince herself that what he’d said wasn’t true, the sincerity of his words was evident in everything he did. Every time he came into the saloon, he stared at her and grinned. He flaunted his pouch of coins and Layla could only think of its source. He was robbing men of their hard-earned take, and he didn’t care at all. Did he think he could get away with it?
What if he doesn’t? What if it's his plan to get caught and take you down with him? He could say you knew, and it would be true. He told you and you haven’t done anything about it.
Layla’s head began to hurt. Still, she forced herself from her bed and stood to get ready. It was then that Layla’s gaze caught sight of something outside her bedroom window, someone standing at the base of the tree. It was Jacob.
“Leave me alone,” she said softly, balling her hands into small fists.
Jacob looked up at her, removed his hat, and smiled before he sauntered away. Layla watched him go. It was getting to be too much. What did he want? To scare her into coming back? If so, it was working. Layla was scared.
How are you bringing Peter into all of this? You heard him last night. He always upholds the law, and you have not. You’ve let a man get away with his crimes for so long. How can you ask Peter to accept that? He’s better than you. You know that. He deserves better than the likes of you. Who were you kidding?
Layla lowered herself onto the edge of her bed. That was it. She was wrong for Peter. He was light and she was not. She’d spent the past few years of her life with outlaws, and he’d spent his time protecting others from the likes of the very people she’d been living around.
Her heart was breaking. She’d been holding onto a dream. One that would never come true. It was time she did something. It was time she spared the people she loved the awful truth of who she was.
Layla sighed. “It’s time to wake up. Dream’s over,” she said to herself as she got to her feet. She needed to get ready for work.
She found Annabelle in the kitchen, making breakfast. She was standing over the stove and Layla could smell the aroma of something delicious.
“Are those grits I smell?”
“And bacon,” Annabelle added with a smile as she turned back to look at Layla. “You look better today.”
“I realize what I have to do,” she replied.
Annabelle turned to look at her. She smiled. “I hope it’s tellin’ the truth and freein’ yerself from all this mess.”
Layla nodded. “Yes. I admitted the truth,” she said as she tried to keep her expression neutral. “I’m going to do something about it. I promise you, Miss Annabelle. I’m going to make everything right… for everyone.”
“That’s wonderful,” Annabelle declared. She placed her breakfast on a plate and then in front of her.
“Miss Annabelle, why do you always make me breakfast? I’m here to help you,” Layla questioned.
Annabelle smiled. “You work so hard down at the saloon, especially now that you’re the manager and all. Plus, you’re baking when you aren’t there. You can’t do everythin’. Besides,” she smiled again, “I like cookin’ for yah.”
Layla ate her breakfast with a heavy heart. It was difficult to act normal, but she made an extra special effort to keep her true feelings hidden. It was going to be a long day.
Once at the saloon, Layla carried out her work as she always did. There were a few more patrons that day than usual, but that was normal in the business. Some days were better than others were, but every day was a profit-making day at the saloon. Layla was thankful for the additional patrons. It kept her mind off what she had to do. Up until closing.
She was getting ready to lock up the saloon when Jacob walked in. She looked at him coldly, ready for whatever he was going to threaten her with now. It was all he seemed to do. His pretense at goodness was long over.
“What do you want?” she asked him.
“I just wanted to see how you were doin’,” Jacob replied as he strolled toward her. “You were so busy all day that yah didn’t even notice me.”
“I try not to,” Layla retorted.
Jacob chuckled. “Now that hurts my feelings’,” he told her, but Layla knew he wasn’t sincere. He was toying with her as a cat did with a mouse.
“Get out, Jacob. I have to tidy up,” Layla retorted.
Jacob crossed the room and grabbed hold of her arm. “That wasn’t very nice, Layla,” he spat.
“Get your hands off of her!” Peter’s voice interrupted as he stormed into the saloon. He grabbed Jacob by the shoulder and shoved him aside. He placed himself squarely between Layla and her husband.
The two men glared at each other with balled fists. Layla’s heart began to race like a bull ready to charge. Her eyes turned to Jacob. She didn’t want him provoked, he might tell Peter the truth just to spite him. He would ruin everything.
“Stop! Both of you!” Layla said loudly. “I’ve had enough.” She placed her hand on Peter’s chest. “Please, just let him go.”
Peter looked down at her, anger burning in his eyes. “If you want,” he replied.
Layla turned to Jacob. “Leave, Jacob.”
“Remember, Layla. I’m leavin’ town tomorrow. I need your answer,” he put in before he turned and left the saloon.
Layla’s heart was still racing as she turned to Peter.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked angrily.
“Excuse me?” Peter was clearly surprised at her reaction.
“What do you mean by storming in here and trying to start something with Jacob?” she continued.
“He was trying to hurt you…”
“I had it under control,” she snapped. “What is with you? You always want to save someone. Even those who don’t need saving. I’m not incapable. Why are you treating me like I am?”
“Layla, that isn’t it,” Peter said gently as he approached her. Layla swatted away his arms.
“No!” She stepped away from him.
“Layla?”
She could see the confusion on his face and it was breaking her heart. She wished she didn’t have to do this, but she had no choice. He deserved better. He didn’t deserve the disappointment of knowing the things she was involved in. She wanted him to remember the best about her, not the worst. She wanted to leave him with as many good memories as possible—even as she was about to break his heart.
“What, Peter? You can’t tell me that isn’t true,” she retorted.
Peter once again tried to approach her. And again, Layla backed away. “Okay, I’ll admit it. In the beginning, I thought you needed help. I thought I could be that person. I saw you as fragile and in need of protection. But that was then. Now, I see that you’re very capable. I’ve told you that.”
“You say that, but you don’t mean it. Look at just now. You didn’t give me a chance to handle it myself. You rushed in and tried to take over, turning everything into an even bigger issue,” she admonished.
“I’m sorry, Layla,” Peter said. “Don’t be upset.”
“I am upset. I see now that you won’t change. You just see me like some helpless woman who can’t handle life on her own,” she cried. “I can’t do this.”
Panic flashed across Peter’s face. “Layla, what do you mean?”
“I mean, I can’t handle this. I can’t live like this. I had to walk on eggshells with Jacob, and now I have to feel like t
he small little helpless thing with you. I won’t!” she snapped. “Do you hear me? I won’t!”
Layla removed her apron from around her waist and flung it to the ground. Peter watched silently.
“I quit!”
Peter rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. “Layla, you don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” she protested, trying to push herself away from him. Peter wouldn’t let go.
“Layla, you don’t mean any of this. I know you don’t. You love me. I love you. I don’t know what’s happening right now. I don’t know what Jacob said to make you act this way, but we can get through it. You and I, we can get through it.”
