by Cat Cahill
Why had she been so heedless, insisting on walking alone? Molly had offered more than once to walk with her, or suggested she wait for Mr. Hill. Grace’s actions were more like her sister Lily’s, who often acted without thought of the consequences.
Grace glanced behind her again. This time, the man didn’t even pretend as if he weren’t watching her. She clenched her skirts in her hand and lengthened her stride, her breath straining against the ribs of her corset. She’d go to the boardinghouse and trust that she could make it inside quickly, then she’d lock the door behind her.
Making an abrupt turn, she crossed the road again at the lumberyard, barely making it before a pair of horses and a wagon bore down upon her. The man crossed too, and Grace walked so fast she was nearly running.
When she arrived at Mrs. Geary’s, she threw the door open, slipped inside, and slid the bolt closed with shaking fingers. Then she ran to the window. The man stood outside, assessing the house as if determining what to do next. Grace stepped back so he couldn’t see her through the window. She clenched her fingers until he finally turned and left.
Then she slumped into one of Mrs. Geary’s comfortable chairs and thanked God for seeing her safely home. At least the man was gone for now.
But as soon as the fear subsided, a question arose. Why had he been following her?
Chapter Twelve
Jasper arrived at the store just before dawn the next morning. He unlocked the door and stood, taking the place in. Every piece of wood was polished, each item sat proudly in its place. Soon it would be filled with customers. It was his life’s work, everything he wanted, everything he promised his father he would do. He wished Pa were here to see it; he’d be proud.
The thought lifted his spirits some, but the letter in his pocket reminded him of what he’d lost.
Jasper pulled the paper from his coat pocket. Why he’d brought it with him, he didn’t know. Perhaps as a reminder not to be so foolish again. He’d detoured by the postmaster’s yesterday after visiting the sheriff and the telegraph office. And there it was, waiting for him.
It wasn’t a letter, even. It was a prettily written invitation. He didn’t have to look at it to remember the words. They’d etched themselves into his memory forever.
Mr. and Mrs. Leland Boone request your presence at the marriage of their daughter
Miss Ada Boone
to
Mr. Wayland Edward Humphrey, III
Son of Mr. And Mrs. Wayland Edward Humphrey, II
On the 24th of August, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and eighty
The invitation went on to list a church in New York City. The Boones never would have thought to invite him to a wedding clear across the country. This was Ada’s doing. This was her way of telling him there was no longer anything between them. She’d chosen someone else.
All of that wasted time. He’d spent years courting her, thinking about her, missing her when she’d left. He’d planned a future for them, here in Cañon City. He’d deluded himself into thinking she would be happy here. And she’d taken all of that and run with it, clear to New York, where she’d tossed it aside with barely a mention to him at all.
Jasper tore the invitation and its pretty cream-colored envelope in half and threw it into the stove in the back room. He lit a fire and watched it burn. As the invitation curled and turned to ashes, some of the anger drained from him.
And he realized he wasn’t sad. He wasn’t heartbroken. Instead he felt . . . free.
Ada could do as she pleased. He’d continue with his life here, as he’d done for the ten months since she’d been gone. He’d concentrate on what was important—his store, Ma and Molly . . . Miss Daniels.
Jasper shook his head. It was Ada’s rejection that had placed that in his head, nothing else.
The door burst open, yanking his attention back to the main room of the store. When he arrived, Miss Daniels stood just inside the door, out of breath, her hat slipping from its pins. She looked as if she’d run all the way here.
He strode toward her, alarm cascading through his body. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, her breath coming in gasps.
He narrowed his eyes at her before moving to the door. He glanced both ways out the glass, but saw nothing except a few people moving about their business and a man on horseback, slowly meandering down the road. He turned back to Miss Daniels. “If nothing happened, why do you look as if you just ran from the Devil himself?”
Miss Daniels set her reticule on the counter and repinned her hat. “I was afraid . . .” She trailed off as she caught his eyes.
Jasper took a deep breath and tried to control his anger at whatever it was that had frightened her. He fixed his expression into something neutral, although he wouldn’t hesitate to walk right out of this store and put any man in his place, if need be. “What scared you?”
She clasped her hands together, a worried look shadowing her usually sunny face. “It wasn’t this morning. That was only me, scaring myself. But last night . . .”
Jasper schooled his face into patience, pressing his fingers into his palms. “Yes?”
“A man followed me home. At first, I wasn’t certain, so I crossed the road. Twice. He followed. I ran into the boardinghouse and locked the door. He stood outside for a few moments before leaving.” She spoke the words quickly, almost as if she thought she might lose her nerve. She paused to catch her breath before speaking again. “I was so afraid he’d be waiting for me this morning.”
A rush of anger at whoever had done this flooded through Jasper. Miss Daniels looked utterly terrified, her big blue eyes looking to him for . . . what, exactly? He didn’t know, but a fierce shot of protectiveness rolled through him. He stepped forward and took both her hands in his. She wore a pair of white gloves, but her hands still felt so warm and small enclosed in his. “Miss Daniels,” he said, his voice low.
She said nothing, her eyes on their clasped hands.
“Grace,” he said more urgently.
That got her attention. She looked up at him, expectant. She trusted him, that much was clear in her expression. She trusted him to help her, and that meant more to him than anything else right now.
“We’ll go to the sheriff. I’d wager it’s the man who came to take his shirt yesterday. He probably discovered the note was missing. I don’t know if he wants it back or . . .” He couldn’t vocalize his fear that Grace could be in real danger.
He ought not to call her Grace any longer either. Although she didn’t protest, he’d be allowing far more than he should, despite the fact he was no longer promised to Ada.
And yet, Grace’s name fit her so well, he couldn’t seem to think of her by any other.
“And you’ll no longer walk alone,” he continued. “I’ll take you home tonight and I’ll come get you in the morning. If you need anything—anything at all—let me know and I’ll fetch it for you. Do you understand?”
She nodded and her eyes drifted back to their hands. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Shall we go to the sheriff now?”
“Yes.” He let go of her hands reluctantly. He should have dropped them several minutes ago. “If we go quickly, we can return before Ma and Molly arrive. I don’t want to leave them alone here.”
“Will they be all right walking from home? Should we go to them first? I’d hate for this man to . . .” She trailed off as she picked up her reticule and placed it under her arm.
Jasper’s heart ached with a feeling he couldn’t place. She cared deeply for his mother and sister. Ada had never wanted to sit and converse with Ma, and her interactions with Molly had always been accompanied by a smile that never quite reached her eyes. He hadn’t let it bother him before, but seeing how well Grace got along with them, he couldn’t help but notice the stark difference.
“We’ll collect them after we visit Sheriff Young.” He held her gaze for a moment. “Thank you.”
Grace’s brow furrowed. “For what?”
A genuine smile lit up her already beautiful face. “I have plenty of shortcomings, Mr. Hill. Trust me on that.”
“Jasper,” he said before he could stop himself. “Please call me Jasper.”
“Jasper.” The name—his name—wound its way through her voice as if she were testing it. “All right.” Her smile was shy this time, and it took all of his effort not to reach for her hand again. Instead, he went for the door, holding it open to allow her to go out first.
He locked the door, and they began the walk to the sheriff’s office, Jasper glancing behind them every few moments.
Whoever this man was, Jasper doubted he’d be satisfied with merely scaring Grace one time.
Chapter Thirteen
Throughout the rest of the day, Grace kept watch out the window for the man with the mangled nose. She never spotted him, and yet, she felt that even if she had, she was in no danger with Jasper here. Sheriff Young hadn’t recognized the man from the description Grace had given him. And of course, they couldn’t be certain the man was tied to the note in any way.
As it stood, she would no longer be walking to and from the store by herself. A part of Grace sighed at the thought of losing the independence she’d begun to enjoy, but her heart beat just a little faster at the idea of spending so much more time with Mr. Hill. Or should she call him Jasper? She smiled down at her sewing, thinking of how he’d begun calling her Grace. He didn’t ask permission, and she would have been surprised if he did. It wouldn’t have been like him. Instead, something inside him seemed to decide he would now call her by her Christian name.
She should be upset or offended or . . . something other than happy about it. But instead, she bit her lip to keep from smiling too much. It was wrong to pine after a man who was promised to another, despite the choice words Mrs. Hill had for her son’s intended. According to what she’d told Grace—more than once—Miss Boone likely had six men promising her marriage, and she strung them along like toys for a dog.
Grace assumed Mrs. Hill was exaggerating, at least somewhat. But she couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Hill—Jasper—saw in a woman such as Miss Boone. She stabbed her needle through the wool of a shirt. It wasn’t for her to wonder, or to even concern herself with. And she ought to remember that before she lost her heart yet again.
And yet . . . there was the way he took her hands this morning when she’d been so frightened. The way he insisted upon calling her Grace. That look he got in his eye when she told him about the man who had followed her, as if he’d like to find the man and put him in his place right there and then. It all added up to so much hope. Hope that . . . what? That Jasper was the man Miss Lovelorn suggested she keep her eyes open for?
Grace pressed her lips together, trying to concentrate on her work, but it was impossible. In an hour, all she’d done was pin one shirt and put two stitches into it. Mrs. Hill kept glancing at her, curiosity evident in her face. She likely assumed Grace was worried about the broken-nosed man. And Grace was worried . . . yet somehow she was instead consumed with thoughts of Jasper. Mr. Hill. She ought to continue thinking of him as Mr. Hill to protect her heart, if nothing else.
Finally, it reached the hour for the store to close. Having felt restless for so long, Grace stood gratefully and helped Mrs. Hill replace the sewing and fill the basket of completed items. They finished organizing the corner just as one of the sheriff’s deputies, Eli Jennings, arrived to escort Mrs. Hill and Molly home. Unwilling to let his mother and sister walk by themselves while he escorted Grace, Mr. Hill had arranged for Deputy Jennings to take his mother and sister home each day.
Of course, Grace pondered as she collected her reticule and her shawl, it would have been simpler for Mr. Hill to walk with Molly and his mother, since they lived in the same place, and allow Deputy Jennings to escort her. It was too late to suggest this arrangement for today, considering the deputy had already left with Molly and Mrs. Hill, but perhaps she should mention it.
As soon as Mr. Hill had locked the door behind them, they began the walk toward Mrs. Geary’s. Mr. Hill was quiet but alert, his dark eyes taking in everything around them as they moved. He caught her gaze as they made their way down Main Street, and Grace swallowed. She felt she ought to say something—anything—to alleviate the heavy silence between them.
“It’s a lovely evening.”
“That it is,” he replied, his eyes alighting on her briefly before sweeping across the sidewalk and street again.
She wanted to say something more important. To tell him how much she enjoyed the company of his mother and his sister. To tell him how working with clothing—even old shirts and vests that needed a hem or a button—sparked her own ideas for ladies’ fashions. To tell him of her precious designs and how she dreamed of bringing them to life. But it seemed too much, and so she clamped her mouth shut and instead admired the town as they walked.
The simple church she’d attended with some of the other girls from Mrs. Geary’s the previous weekend came into sight across the street. “That is a lovely church. I didn’t see your family there this past Sunday. Do you attend another church?” Grace had meant the question to be innocent, but Jasper’s—no, Mr. Hill’s—eyes darkened when he glanced past her toward the church.
“We attend services at the congregation just beyond.” He nodded toward Fifth Street, and Grace could just barely see another building. Then, after a pause, he added, “Your church is where Ada and I would have been married. She attended services there with her family, when they lived here.”
Grace glanced up at him. “Would have been married? I thought—I mean, your mother told me that you and Miss Boone are nearly engaged.” Perhaps she’d misunderstood somehow.
“That was correct, or so I thought. We are no longer.” His voice was even, and nearly void of emotion. Grace couldn’t tell if he was hiding the disappointment she assumed he felt, or if it simply wasn’t there.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I understand how that feels. Might I . . .” She swallowed, knowing she shouldn’t ask but unable to contain her curiosity. “Might I ask what happened?”
Jasper didn’t meet her eyes, instead looking straight ahead. “It was nothing dramatic. I received a wedding invitation in the mail.”
Grace drew in a breath, her heart heavy at the thought of him receiving the news in such a cold way. “How cowardly,” she said before thinking. Then she caught her breath and looked up at him again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please forgive me.”
Jasper’s eyes found hers again, and a slight smile crossed his face. “Don’t apologize. It was cowardly.”
They sidestepped an older couple. Jasper tipped his hat to the lady, and she in response. The actions were so small, so expected and familiar, and yet they made Grace’s heart leap. She wanted to be nowhere else right now than walking with such a handsome and polite man in this rough and tumble town. Miss Boone was a fool to let him go.
“Truth be told,” he said once they’d passed the couple, “I knew it was coming. I’d deluded myself into thinking otherwise.”
Grace wished she could meet this Miss Boone and tell her exactly how mistaken she was. “Miss Boone doesn’t deserve you,” Grace said. “And I’m not sorry to say it, even if it is presumptuous.”
Jasper smiled again, and it was less restrained than before. Grace returned his smile, and he burst into laughter. Her face reddened. Why was he was laughing?
He shook his head and finally said, “Thank you. It might not be true, but I certainly enjoyed hearing it.”
Grace’s heart slowed and she smiled back at him. “Well, then, you’re very welcome.”
“I believe we’ve arrived,” he said, his eyes still on her.
Grace tore her gaze away from him to see they were standing in front of the boardinghouse.
“Grace,” he said, the low timbre of his voice making her heart quicke
n and her arms break out in gooseflesh.
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers at all. Grace clamped her lips shut and willed herself to act normally.
Jasper shifted. He pulled off his hat and held it in both hands, before looking in every direction but hers. If Grace didn’t think it impossible, she’d say he appeared nervous. “I want to thank you for coming to work at the store. Despite everything else that’s happened, my mother looks forward to your company each day. And I know she’s grateful for your help with the mending.”
“I should be the one thanking you. You rescued me from that horrible dress shop. I enjoy every moment at the store with your family. Thank you, Jasper.” Grace had barely realized she’d spoken his name out loud when his eyes locked with hers and he gave her the barest hint of a smile again.
It made him happy.
What did that mean? She should not read too much into his smile. He’d just found out about Miss Boone, after all. But one question remained on her mind, and suddenly, she was desperate to know the answer.
“Jasper?” she said, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
He made a noise in his throat. She didn’t know what that meant, but the way he kept looking at her, as if she were the only person in the entire state of Colorado, spurred her to move forward.
“Why didn’t you escort your mother and sister home and send Deputy Jennings with me? It would have made more sense.” Her throat felt as parched as the desert she knew lay far to the south of here as she waited on his reply.
“I didn’t trust Deputy Jennings with you,” was his answer.
The words tumbled in her head as she tried to make sense of them. Did he mean he didn’t trust the deputy to keep her safe? Or was it that he didn’t trust the man to refrain from flirting with her? No, that was too farfetched. But even as she thought it, Jasper’s eyes roamed every inch of her face. Grace could feel her cheeks going red. She swallowed hard, and said, “Thank you for seeing me safely home.”
