“I don’t want to quit my job, Cade. If you need me to move out, I will. I love Jenny. I—I don’t want to be separated from her.”
Sitting there, Cade digested her words and felt sudden relief. For a moment, he’d thought Rachel was gone. Forever. “Jenny needs you,” he said, choked up with worry for his adopted daughter. “She wouldn’t do well if you were gone. She’s bonded with you, Rachel.”
“Yes.”
He tried to still the heart that pounded hard in his chest. “I’m not forcing myself on you nor do I expect more of the same when we go back to our home tonight. What happened here tonight was an accident. That’s all.”
Both relief and pain engulfed her. The hunger in her wanted Cade at home. Tonight. In his bed. Yet, Rachel realized that she’d just unwittingly taken a step in a direction she’d sworn she would never take. The shadow of Dirk Payson had finally dissolved and in its place she had just discovered how much she liked Cade. Even worse, she wanted to pursue a long-term relationship with him.
But at what cost? Dirk was on the loose. Her conscience ate at her. Staring into Cade’s shadowed, intense face, Rachel began to realize that she had to make some very hard, gutting decisions, even if the FBI thought she was safe where she was right now. Her feelings for Jenny were pure love. Her feelings for Cade were…she didn’t want to go there. Instead, Rachel knew her time at the ranch was coming to an end. And the last thing she wanted to do was hurt Cade and Jenny.
CHAPTER TEN
“SURPRISE, RACHEL! A spring equinox cake for you and Cade!” Gwen Garner called as she entered the back door to Cade’s home.
Looking up from the counter, Rachel smiled at the unexpected visitor. Gwen was dressed in a long quilted skirt with colorful patches, a bright yellow long-sleeved blouse and dark blue quilted vest. In her hands was a white-frosted cake decorated with pink springtime roses.
“What a pleasant surprise, Gwen. Hey, that cake looks good,” Rachel called, drying her hands on a towel. She came forward and Gwen handed her the cake. “Cade will like this tonight. I was just standing here at the sink wondering what to bake for the week.” She grinned. “You solved my dilemma. This is a great way to celebrate March twenty-first, the first day of spring.”
Gwen shut the door. “Around here, because of the long winters when everyone goes stir-crazy, we try to find any excuse to celebrate the littlest of things. And spring has sprung!”
Placing the cake on the counter, Rachel laughed. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee, Gwen or are you racing off to open your store?”
Waving her hand, Gwen pushed her short silver-and-black hair off her brow. “I have time for a cup, thank you. I have Stephanie opening the store for me this morning. You really ought to come down, Rachel. I’m starting a beginning quilting class this afternoon. It’s once a week. You need to get out of this house. You spend too much time in it.” Gwen pulled out a chair and sat down.
Rachel poured both of them coffee and set the mugs on the table. “I’ve been thinking about getting out more,” Rachel confided. She placed the creamer and sugar bowl on the table. Handing Gwen a spoon, she sat down opposite the woman.
“Good,” Gwen grumped. “About time! Cade is worried about you,” she said, stirring the cream and sugar into her coffee.
Rachel lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip. “Oh?”
“He feels you’re housebound. I know you have Jenny to take care of, but you need to get out more.” She gave Rachel a pleading look. “Why don’t you come out once a week and take my beginning quilting class?”
“But I don’t have a sewing machine,” Rachel lamented. “I love to sew. I got away from doing it after I left home.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. Before Dirk had swept her off her feet and she’d fallen for his manipulations, Rachel had been a first-class seamstress like her mother Daisy.
“Ah!” Gwen triumphed, giving her a wide grin. “I bet you didn’t know this, but Cade’s wife, Abby, had a sewing machine. Why not come and take my class this afternoon? We have Bernina sewing machines for those who don’t have one. You can spend about three hours with us in our classroom. And when Cade gets off duty tonight, you can talk to him about the sewing machine. He keeps it in a hall closet. Ask him if he minds if you use the Bernina. I don’t think he’ll object at all.”
Rachel admitted to herself she had a little cabin fever. When she wasn’t taking care of Jenny or working on her art assignments, she helped Cade’s dad, Ray. Often, she was cleaning out box stalls and taking wheelbarrows to one of the five huge compost bins. She had also taken over the milking of the nannies twice a day. Ray thought he had taught her the art of milking, but in reality, Rachel had already known how. With all the snow, there wasn’t much else she could do to help out. Still, it was a way to get outdoors and get some fresh air and exercise.
“Well? I can see you’re seriously thinking about it.” Gwen raised her thick eyebrows. “You’ll love quilting. Just look at it this way—since you’re an artist you can paint with fabric instead of tubes of paint.”
“I like the idea that quilting is like painting on fabric. What a beautiful way to see your work,” Rachel said. After all, she had bought a car, a Toyota Corolla, and could drive to and from the quilting store. Wanting to be more independent and not so reliant on the Garner family, Rachel had made the purchase. Dirk Payson wouldn’t be showing up in a quilting shop to find her so Rachel felt fairly safe in taking the class. She was hungry for the company of women because they gave her such strength and support whether they knew it or not. Her mother had never quilted, but her grandmother had. At the farm in Iowa, many of her grandmother’s quilts were still used. Maybe it was time for Rachel to restart that tradition in her family. It was a warm, loving tie from her past.
“Okay, Gwen, I’m signing up!”
Clapping her hands, Gwen whooped. “Atta girl, Rachel! I knew you had it in you! Cade is going to be happy about this. He’s got enough to worry about as a deputy. He doesn’t need to be chawing on what you are or are not doing.”
Heart twinging, Rachel sipped her coffee. “You’re right, Gwen. He has enough on his plate.”
“Well,” she said primly, “I think he’ll be overjoyed to hear you’re going to learn how to quilt.”
“What about Jenny? Who will take care of her when I’m at your class?”
“I’ll talk to Ray. He’s an old hand at taking care of babies of all kinds, four-footed or two-legged.” She chuckled.
Over the months, Rachel had come to love Ray Garner. He was a tall, lean drink of water with a real quiet nature. But he was kind and thoughtful. And he did have a way with babies, whether they were newly born calves, foals or kittens. “Wonderful. So, he knows how to change a diaper?”
“Oh, yes,” Gwen chuckled. “I wouldn’t marry a man who can’t do the same work I do and vice versa. In my younger years, I was out there branding and lassoing cattle for him and his crews. Now, we’re a team. I admit that we’re older now and I still love to ride with him on horseback to inspect our herds, but I’m not doing any more of the ranch work.”
Rachel could see where Cade got his sense of helping her around the house. He cooked, ran the vacuum, did the washing, folded clothes and washed windows. “I’m glad you trained your son to do all those things.”
“Listen, today’s world is a lot different from when Ray and I grew up. It takes two people working hard to make a living and when they get home, the team has to do the housework together. It’s not right to dump it all on the wife. She’s already worked eight hours, too.”
“No argument there,” Rachel said.
Gwen rose and took her cup over to the sink and rinsed it out. “I gotta run. We’re having a spring fabric sale, fifty-percent off today. You’ll be able to choose some nice quilt fabric for a lot less.” She hurried to the door and turned and smiled. “I’ll tell Ray he’s babysitting Jenny from one to four this afternoon.”
“Great,” Rachel said. “Thanks so much, Gwen.”
“See you this afternoon. Bye!” She was out the door and gone.
Quiet surrounded Rachel once more. Jenny had another hour to sleep before she awakened. Cade had brought out a small playpen and it was set up in the living room. Jenny was at a point where she was crawling around a bit and rolling from side to side. Having the portable playpen was perfect. Outside the kitchen window the icicles dripped. It was cloudy but nearly forty degrees, a warm day for Wyoming.
Rachel mulled over the many advantages to quilting. It was a safe activity for her. And Gwen was right—she was starting to climb the walls here. She wanted to be outside, put in a garden and get her hands into the soil. In New York City, none of that had been possible. But here, it was. Gwen was excited about her helping put in the garden come early June. But even before then, she had to get out of the house more often and yet keep a low profile.
How she wished she could call her mother. Rachel hated the once-a-month rule the FBI had imposed upon them. Daisy would be delighted about her taking up quilting.
As she glanced around the quiet kitchen, checking for tasks yet to be done, Rachel continued to sip her coffee. As always, the torrid, searching kiss she’d shared with Cade came back to tease her. He’d been true to his word—since then, he had not made a move. In fact, Cade was gone more than he was home. When she asked about it, he shrugged and said that some of his deputy buddies needed time off for personal reasons. He was picking up their shifts so they could have that day off.
Or was he taking on the extra duty to stay away from her? Rachel didn’t know for sure. They’d never spoken again of the Valentine’s Day dance or the kiss that had rocked her world. Sighing, Rachel frowned. Hands around the warm mug, she stared unseeingly down at it. Her mind and, if she was honest, her heart were all centered on Cade. Since the kiss, Rachel had tried to find fault with Cade. Oh, he left his laundry on the floor of his bathroom, and he wasn’t perfect. Compared to Dirk, he was a true prince. The more Rachel lived under Cade’s roof, the more she realized how bizarre the lifestyle she’d lived with Payson was.
Was Cade avoiding her? Was she avoiding him? Rachel couldn’t ask him and she couldn’t act upon her desire. Better just to leave things as they were. They needed to reestablish a professional relationship. Brenda, her FBI handler, had told her at the beginning of March that they had a lead on Dirk, that he’d been positively identified in Florida. That gave Rachel some relief from the burden of worrying that he would come here and hurt Cade’s family. Brenda had felt Dirk would go back to his old haunt and love—Florida. And, she’d been right.
When Rachel told Brenda of her fears for the Garner family if she remained here, the FBI handler had told her to stay put. She had excellent cover. Dirk Payson was a warm-state person and Wyoming was well-known for its winter—from October through June. No, the handler felt Rachel was safe.
No matter what Rachel did, she still felt fear eating around the edges of her happiness. There was natural contentment on the Garner ranch. Ray and Gwen were wonderful to her. Jenny was making great progress and Cade fed, diapered and played with her every chance he got. In some ways, the baby was helping to heal not only her loss, but Cade’s, as well.
Feeling a bit more reassured, Rachel got up and walked over to the sink. Tonight, she would make spaghetti with French bread slathered with garlic and butter. It was one of Cade’s favorite meals. Her heart warmed. Rachel wanted to make him happy. Cade had given her so much. Still, she could never forget that he’d felt sorry for her. The dance invitation was purely out of sympathy, that was all.
As she picked up the clean glass baby bottles from the steamer, peace blanketed Rachel. She gathered the baby’s items for Ray. The idea of making a quilt suddenly seemed like an exciting venture to Rachel. She was looking forward to driving into Jackson Hole and finding out more about Gwen’s quilting store. It was a safe place to be.
“NOW, THIS IS your palette,” Gwen told her briskly as she guided Rachel through four thousand bolts of colorful fabric. She grinned over at Rachel, who carried a paper and pen. “Take all the notes you want. I believe in bright, colorful fabrics, Rachel. You need to know that our quilting shop carries the highest grades of cloth.”
Stopping at the red section, Rachel marveled at the various shades of red, fuschia and magenta. “Grades of cloth? What do you mean?” She almost added that her mother had bought all her cloth from a local store in Iowa, not a quilting store.
Gwen patted one of the bolts of cloth. “When a cloth company makes the first run on a new fabric pattern, they’re trying to adjust the weave. What most people don’t realize is that the first runs are the lowest grade of fabric precisely because the tension of their machine isn’t quite as calibrated as they want it. They do this through a series of trial runs. Your first-run fabric goes to discount stores. This fabric has too loose a weave and if you make a quilt out of it, you’ll run into a lot of trouble trying to get it to remain stable.”
“Stable?” Rachel loved learning new information and this was fascinating.
“Yes,” Gwen said, pulling out a bolt of red batik-patterned cloth with light pink splotches. “Come here.” She led her to one of the cutting tables. Gwen opened up the bolt and spread it out before Rachel. Then, she brought over two samples of other cloth labeled First Run and Second Run. She laid them out before Rachel. “I want you to feel each one of these fabrics. You tell me which one feels the best to you.”
Fingering each one, Rachel pointed to the batik material. “This one.”
Pleased, Gwen said, “Exactly. First run has a loose weave.” She lifted a length of cloth up for Rachel to look at. “You can see it here particularly along the edges of the fabric.”
Rachel squinted upward. “Yes, I see that.”
“Okay,” Gwen said, laying the cloth aside and going to the second-run material, “look at this. Check the edges because that’s where you can see the weaving. This one isn’t as loose. It’s a little tighter. Right?”
“Right,” Rachel said.
Gwen lifted the material from the batik bolt up for her to look at the edge. “Now, see how tight this weave is compared to the other runs?”
“Oh,” Rachel said, impressed, “I do.”
“You want a tight, consistent weave in your fabric,” Gwen told her, folding the bolt of material back up and pinning it into place. “As you create block or rail patterns, you want the material to stay put. First and second runs are too weak and the fabric moves around a lot on you. What will happen is you’ll never be able to get the exact meeting of seams along your rails or blocks or they’ll slide and you’ll be in a pickle.” She shook her head. “It’s always best to go with the finest run of fabric, which is what they call quilting grade. Yes, you pay more. Usually, nine or ten dollars a yard, but when you start working with the cloth, it won’t move on you, causing you a lot of ripping out and resewing of seams. And it gets really dicey if you’re stitching in the ditch. You really want a fabric that is strong and steady.”
“Stitching in the ditch?” Rachel laughed. “It sounds like a rhyme for a child’s book!”
Gwen giggled. “Well, who knows what you will do with all this classroom information you’ll be getting week after week.”
“I’ve already got some ideas,” Rachel admitted, sharing her smile.
“Okay, so you know you use only quilting-quality cloth.”
Looking at all the colors, Rachel felt amazed. The store was chock-full of women who were each buying from ten or fifteen different bolts of cloth. The quilting shop was large, airy and with plenty of room for browsing. A number of them had carts with many bolts of cloth in them. Gwen had told her that these were longtime quilters buying cloth for new quilts they’d be making. It was an exciting process.
A young woman in a U.S. Forest Service uniform came in. She removed her hat. Rachel leaned over and ask, “Who is that?”
“Oh, that’s Casey Cantrell. She’s our newest forest ranger to be stationed up at the Gr
and Tetons National Park.” And then, Gwen sidled up to her and whispered, “Rumor has it she’s got a colorful past….”
Inwardly, Rachel grimaced. If only Gwen knew about her own colorful past. “I imagine you see and hear a lot in here.”
Gwen chuckled. “Oh, yes. If you want to know what’s really going on in Jackson Hole, you come here.” She pointed her index finger down toward the floor.
Another woman with red hair, clad in fur, entered. Rachel thought she looked svelte and model-like compared to the slightly frumpy Casey Cantrell.
“Uh-oh,” Gwen muttered, her brows dipping. “That’s Senator Carter Peyton’s wife, Clarissa. She’s a handful. Treats my girls like dirt on some days. When Clarissa has had a fight with her husband, she takes it out on all of us. When she’s in a good mood, she’s the kindest person you could know. She raises millions for charity.”
Watching the woman who held her shoulders squared beneath the three-quarter-length red fox fur, Rachel nodded. “Does she quilt?”
“No, but she’s got a cousin who lives in Cheyenne who does. Probably coming in to buy her some patterns or such. Clarissa is only thirty years old. Her husband has been a senator here in Wyoming for eight years. Kinda sad,” Gwen murmured. “Two years ago he left his wife and two children at home and flew to a Republican fundraiser in Cheyenne. Their house caught fire and everyone died.”
“Oh,” Rachel gasped softly, “how awful!” Now she watched Clarissa with new eyes. Feeling deep compassion for the woman, she whispered, “He must be devastated.”
“It’s the senator that’s the troublemaker,” Gwen said. “He blames lieutenant Matthew Sinclaire for letting his family burn alive. He’s got a real grudge against him.”
“A grudge?”
Gwen tucked some of the fabric bolts back into order and muttered, “He’s threatened to kill Matt. Now, Matt’s born and raised here. I watched him grow up into a fine young man. Not a mean bone in that firefighter’s body. You know? The night that fire happened, it was during a blizzard. The two-mile dirt road to his home was mud. The firefighters’ trucks sank to their axles, and they were stuck a mile from the burning home. Matt and two other firefighters slogged through foot-deep mud that last mile trying to save the family. But it was too late.” Shaking her head, Gwen added more grimly, “The senator thinks it’s Matt’s fault, and he’s out to get him.”
Deadly Identity Page 11
