Her Silent Burden_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  She looked up and found him at the front of the hall, his gaze darting from her to Mr. Vang.

  “Noah is going to walk you home,” he said.

  Thea set the medicine kit on the desk and went to Wakefield, whose attention was back on Mr. Vang.

  “You good?” Wakefield asked.

  “Nothing a shot of whiskey won’t fix,” Mr. Vang answered.

  Wakefield nodded and said nothing. Mr. Vang got the hint and edged past them to go back into the main area.

  Wakefield looked down at Thea. “I’ll see you at home,” he whispered, so only she could hear. “Keep the door locked.”

  “Why?” she whispered back.

  “I don’t like the feel of today. That miner who started trouble might not be done with it yet.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon as I can.”

  Thea glanced at the front windows. The sky was darkening, and it was past time to get supper started. How had the afternoon gone by so fast?

  “I thought we would be walking home together,” Thea protested.

  “I know, but I need to stay here for a while longer… to make sure everything is in order.”

  Thea frowned, and Wakefield sighed, sounding exhausted.

  “Do this for me,” he said. “Please.”

  She swallowed hard. “I will see you at home.”

  “Lock the door,” he reminded her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good.” Wakefield kissed her forehead, and a mess of feelings rushed through her. Suppose he turned out to be happy about the baby?

  And suppose he didn’t?

  Either way, time was running out. The news had to be shared, and whatever the consequences were, they had to be faced.

  Chapter 22

  hand on his pistol

  22. Wakefield

  Chapter twenty-two

  Wakefield turned the last chair over onto the last table and looked around the saloon. All signs of that day’s fight had been swept up and cleaned away.

  “That makes two brawls Vang had a hand in,” he said.

  “Darn.” Noah dropped the bills he was holding onto the bar. “Now I lost count.”

  “Write it down. Like everyone else.”

  “Hmph.” He gave Wakefield a grumpy look but picked up a pencil anyway.

  Wakefield looked out the window, giving Noah the silence he always needed when doing arithmetic.

  “Brawl or no brawl,” Noah said, “it didn’t hurt the day’s profits. Business is still rising.”

  He divided the bills into stacks and put them in the little safe, which he then locked up.

  “You don’t seem happy about that,” Noah commented.

  “It’s hard to be when I’m wondering whose gonna start something tomorrow.”

  “It’s not that bad. Shoot, it’s better than it was in Cheyenne. No one wanted to follow your rules there. The difference with that was, if they didn’t like it, they could go and take their money somewhere else. Here, they don’t have a choice. We’ve monopolized the whole industry.”

  “That’s true,” Wakefield admitted. “Did you see Vang talking to Thea earlier?”

  “No. What was he saying?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Noah poured himself a tumbler of whiskey. Wakefield eyed it, remembering the time when the end of the day meant the start of drinking. Nothing was better than that first sip. It burned away all worries, took him to a place of relief.

  But it was a false relief. He knew that now, and he wasn’t going down that road again. Some men could drink and control the amount they had, but Wakefield wasn’t one of them.

  “Vang defended a man today,” Noah pointed out.

  “Over nothing. A slur about someone’s mama.”

  Noah laughed into his tumbler. “True.”

  “You’re the one who warned me about him. The day he came to town, all you could talk about was the rumors you’d heard.”

  “I remember.” He scratched his jaw and looked thoughtful. “I have to admit, though, he’s proven himself reliable since then. When Mullins’ wagon got stuck in the mud last week, it was Vang who orchestrated getting it out. He went and got ropes and a couple men to help. And Mason Coulter told me he was the only reason he got better from that illness that had him down for five days. Vang brought him food and medicine. Fed his horse, too.”

  “So now he’s a saint,” Wakefield joked.

  “Aw, come now. All I’m saying is, I might have been wrong about him.”

  “That’s two fights he’s been involved with here. Whether or not he started them is beside the point.”

  “How?”

  “A man can tell when trouble is brewing. He makes the choice to stay or walk away.”

  “It seems to me you and I always have to be on opposite sides, no matter what.”

  “I hope you’re joking,” Wakefield said, picking up the safe and taking it to the office. He put it in its drawer at the desk, which he locked.

  “Half joking,” Noah called after him.

  Wakefield came back into the room and gave the area another once-over. “Check all the windows and doors again before you go upstairs. Can’t be too careful.”

  “So you tell me.”

  “I’m ignoring that last jab. Goodnight.”

  “Night, boss man.”

  Wakefield went out the front, making sure to pull the door tight so it would lock. Whiteridge’s one street was empty except for the rustling of trees and the occasional cracking of branches in the woods. Wakefield set off at a fast pace, his entire mind and body focused on getting home.

  After the day he’d had, a hot supper and his wife’s tender touch were all he desired. They would wipe away the memory of the saloon and everything that happened in it.

  With the general store and saloon behind him, he pushed himself up the steepest part of the road. From somewhere to the left of him, a branch creaked.

  Wakefield paused. The noise had been loud—too loud for a squirrel to make. A critter like an opossum or raccoon wouldn’t have snapped a stick that big, either.

  “Hello?” Wakefield called. His hand instinctively rose to his belt, where his fingers curled around his gun’s handle. He wore his holster wherever he went, only taking it off when he was at home. Even there, though, he made sure he always knew where it was, in case he needed it.

  “Mr. Briggs,” a man said, making Wakefield jump.

  A figure emerged out of the woods, and as he stepped into the moonlight, Wakefield recognized Vang.

  Wakefield sucked in a sharp breath, his heart rattling in his chest. “What the blast are you doing in the woods, Vang?”

  “It’s a shortcut. If you go up the hill there and walk straight, it’s only a few minutes to my spot. Much faster than using the road. Sorry if I scared you.”

  “You didn’t scare me. You need to be careful sneaking around like that, though. I almost pulled my pistol on you.”

  “I’ll announce myself next time. You walking home, Mr. Briggs?”

  Wakefield’s jaw tightened. “Yep. Where are you headed?”

  “Down to the spring.” He lifted his hand, and Wakefield noticed the canteen he carried there. “The one coming out by those caves. The water’s much better tasting than that creek up above.”

  “Uh-huh,” Wakefield absentmindedly said. Now that he’d run into Vang, and the two of them were alone, perhaps it was time for a straightforward talk. “I need to ask you, Vang. What were you and my wife talking about?”

  “Nothing in particular.”

  Wakefield waited for more, but it didn’t come. Fine, then. He’d get the information he needed from Thea.

  “I’m sorry about that scruff today,” Vang said.

  “The fight? I thought you were only defending a man.”

  Vang scuffed his boot against the road, and pebbles crunched under its heel. “I was, but I’m sorry anyway. That shouldn’t be happening in your establishment. It’s a fine place you got there
.”

  “It is,” Wakefield agreed, not sure what to make of Vang’s words. If he had to guess, it seemed Vang was attempting to get on his good side.

  “Well, then. You have a nice night, Mr. Briggs.” Vang saluted with two fingers.

  “You, too.”

  Wakefield stayed where he was as Vang crossed the road and slipped into the woods on the other side. He listened to Vang’s footsteps crunching through the woods, each one slightly softer than the last.

  When he was convinced he was alone, he began walking again. This time, however, he kept his hand on his pistol.

  Chapter 23

  untouched dinners resting in front

  23. Thea

  Chapter twenty-three

  Thea drummed her fingers against her lips and stared down into the frying pan, where the strips of salted pork crackled in their juices. The smell of cooking meat had always made her ravenous, but tonight it only made her sick to her stomach.

  Wrinkling her nose, she turned the meat over so the other side could cook. Hopefully, she’d be able to eat some of it. It was ironic that the thought of most food now made her feel ill, and yet she was the hungriest she had ever been.

  A knocking on the door made her jump.

  “It’s me,” Wakefield said through the wood.

  Leaving the stove, she lifted the door’s latch and let him in. Before the door was even closed, she was in his arms, pulled tight against his chest. Wakefield claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply and making her sigh against his lips.

  “Hello,” she murmured as he broke the kiss.

  “Hello,” he rumbled.

  Thea smiled. Perhaps she had been worrying too much. Things were wonderful between her and Wakefield. They had not planned for children, but that did not mean he would be completely against the idea. People’s opinions could change.

  “Supper is almost ready,” she announced, going back to the stove and taking the meat off.

  Wakefield dropped into his seat at the table. “You shouldn’t have had to see that at the saloon.”

  “Do not worry. I assume it is part of the job.”

  “Not usually. Not here.” He hesitated. “What were you and Ed Vang talking about today?”

  Thea dropped the pork onto a platter and looked over at him. “He was mostly just talking. Although…”

  “What?”

  Thea hesitated. It would do no good to share Mr. Vang’s criticism of the way Wakefield ran the saloon. That would only get under Wakefield’s skin and set the tone for the night, and tonight, in particular, she needed everything to be comfortable and easy. She had news to pave the way for.

  “He told me he is looking to open a business in town,” Thea said.

  “Huh.” Wakefield’s eyebrows pushed together, and he stared at the ground. Thea could nearly see the thoughts racing through his head.

  “You are worried about him?” she asked.

  “He’s shown multiple sides to his person. That alone is something I don’t trust.”

  “You think he’s pretending?”

  “I don’t know what I think about him. I just know he’s someone to keep an eye on.”

  Thea chewed on her lower lip in worry, and then remembered that she had intended to steer the conversation away from Mr. Vang and toward happier things.

  “Relax,” she told him, bringing the pork to the table. “Let’s have a nice supper.”

  His eyes softened as he looked up at her. The lamplight danced across his face, and for a moment Thea felt everything would be fine. All of her worrying had been for nothing.

  Taking her seat across from Wakefield, she reached over the table and took his hand. “Let’s hope tomorrow will be a less exciting day.”

  Wakefield snorted. “It could be the most boring day I’ve ever lived, and I’d be happy. Boring means you’re safe.”

  Thea stroked his hand. “You worry about me too much.”

  “How am I supposed to help that? You’re everything to me, Thea.”

  Thea felt the tears gathering. “Even though we have only known each other a few weeks?”

  “Does that matter?”

  “I used to think it did, but not anymore. I knew the moment I saw you Wakefield that something special was happening.”

  He brought her hand up and kissed the side of it. “We were made for each other.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Wakefield gently set her hand on the table. “Let’s eat. The sooner I get my belly full, the sooner I’ll forget about this day.”

  Thea withdrew her hand, but she couldn’t pick up her fork and knife. A rock had formed in her belly.

  “Thea?”

  She forced herself to look at her husband.

  Wakefield’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “I… I have something to tell you.” Her words shook, and Thea wasn’t sure she had the strength to go on. A few minutes ago, she’d been prepared for this difficult conversation, but now that the time to speak had arrived she found herself devoid of courage.

  Alarm entered Wakefield’s eyes. “Thea—”

  “It’s nothing disastrous.”

  I hope, she grimly thought.

  “Then what is it? Why do you look this serious?”

  “Wakefield, I cannot find the best way to present this, so I must simply say it. I believe… I am almost certain that I am with child.”

  She held her breath, watching his face, waiting for a reaction. Wakefield sat frozen, simply blinking and looking back at her.

  “We...” He shook his head. “You can’t be. We’ve taken precautions. And, even if you were, would you know already?” He licked his lips, his breathing coming out fast. “Thea?”

  Thea pressed her shaking knuckles to her mouth. “No, I would not know already.”

  “Then how can...” Understanding passed over his face. “Oh.”

  Thea’s shaking worsened, and she bit her bottom lip, afraid she might suddenly cry out. Fear snaked through her, more of it than she could bear. What was to come next? Wakefield was being so quiet it terrified her.

  “Please say something,” she whispered.

  “You were with child when you came here,” he tonelessly said. “Is that what you are telling me?”

  “I didn’t know I was,” she hastily explained, not wanting him to think she tricked him. “You told me explicitly in your letter that you did not want children, and I myself did not have a strong preference either way. If I had known, I wouldn’t have come out here. I would have found another husband—one who wanted children.”

  Wakefield blinked rapidly, appearing stunned.

  “Are you angry?” Thea asked.

  He slowly lifted his gaze to hers. “Why would I be angry? You didn’t manipulate me.”

  “No,” she confirmed. “I would never do that, Wakefield.”

  She reached for his hand again, but this time found no reaction there. He did not turn his palm over, did not lock his fingers with hers.

  A chill struck Thea’s heart, and she suddenly could not breathe.

  “How did you find out?” he asked. “What makes you think...?”

  “All of the signs point to it,” she explained. “The chance of me not being with child is very… low. At first, I thought I was simply fatigued, but now I know it is not that.”

  “How far along?”

  For some reason, the question made her wince. “I do not know. Four months? It has to be at least that but not much more. I have gained weight recently. I thought it was because I settled in so well here. I assumed I was only healthy.”

  Thea sucked in a sharp breath and forced herself to stop talking. She could go on all night, but she needed to hear Wakefield’s opinion.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  He ran his palm over his face and blew out a heavy breath that made his cheeks puff out. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” she cried. “How can you not know?” />
  Wakefield’s face hardened. “Thea, this is a lot to take in.”