Betrayal

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “You’re very blessed,” Julia said, her throat tight.

  “Don’t I know it. And all I’m sayin’ is, don’t close yourself off from love when it comes knockin’ at your door. You never know what the good Lord might have in store for you if you just say yes to it.”

  Julia rubbed her forehead with the fingers of her right hand, trying to massage away the pressure that was starting to build. “I hope you won’t think me rude, Mrs. Trent, but I believe I’d like to retire.”

  “Not rude at all. If I’d spent two days trailin’ a bunch of cows, my head would be achin’ too. Not to mention my backside.” She released a soft laugh. “You go on. A good night’s sleep’ll make all the difference. You’ll see things clearer in the morning.”

  Julia hoped her hostess was right. But first she had to fall asleep, and she wasn’t sure when that would happen. Not with thoughts of Hugh Brennan filling her head.

  Oh please, God. Mrs. Trent has to be wrong. I don’t want him to care for me. Not that way.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Hugh returned to the ranch house just before dawn. Three of the Trent cowboys had stayed behind to continue the watch, although no one thought the rustler — if stealing the cattle had been the troublemaker’s intent — would return.

  Hugh went into the bedroom that Mrs. Trent had shown him to the previous evening and barely got out of the borrowed clothes before he fell onto the bed and into an exhausted sleep. When he awakened a few hours later, he found his own clothes folded on a chair just inside the doorway. He poured water into the bowl on the dresser and washed up, then dressed and went in search of Julia. He found her where he’d left her the night before, in the dining room, holding a cup of coffee with both hands as she took a sip.

  “Morning,” he said.

  The look she gave him seemed strained. “Good morning.”

  “Sorry I slept so long.”

  She motioned toward the sideboard. “Breakfast is there, though it’s likely a bit cold.”

  “Thanks.” He took a plate and filled it with biscuits and gravy and fried sausage. Then he sat on the chair.

  “Mrs. Trent told me there was no more trouble in the night,” Julia said.

  “No. No more. It was quiet.”

  “She also said they haven’t had trouble with cattle thieves in many years, so this attempt was unexpected.”

  He took a bite of his breakfast while he waited for Julia to continue.

  “I suppose we’re lucky all the rustler had time to do was open the gates.”

  Hugh wanted to bring up Charlie Prescott again, but he doubted she would listen to him. Still, his gut told him he was right. Whatever the man’s motives, her brother-in-law was behind this attempt to steal her cattle. And Hugh was certain Charlie Prescott wouldn’t stop at stealing cattle or cutting barbed wire if those things didn’t get him what he wanted. He was capable of much worse. What would he try after Hugh was gone?

  The question sent a chill through him.

  Julia leaned down from the saddle and shook Victoria Trent’s outstretched hand. “Thanks again for your hospitality.”

  “Not at all. The least we can do for a neighbor.” Victoria took a step backward. “You take care of yourself, Mrs. Grace.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And you remember what I told you last night.”

  Julia nodded. “I will.”

  Victoria turned toward Hugh. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Brennan.”

  “You too, ma’am.”

  “You keep an eye out for Mrs. Grace. You hear?”

  “I will.” His gaze flicked toward Julia, then back again.

  Julia’s pulse quickened. She didn’t want Hugh keeping an eye out for her. His work was almost over. The herd had been delivered.

  She had the money from the sale. When they got back to Sage-hen, she could pay him and send him on his way. That was for the best. For her. For him.

  Wasn’t it?

  The storm that had accompanied them to the Double T had moved on, leaving behind blue skies, a refreshed green to the landscape, and cooler temperatures. Julia decided to push hard toward home, resting only when the horses and Bandit grew tired. Without the cattle to slow them down, they could make the journey in one day, despite leaving later in the morning than desired. Hugh seemed no more inclined to start or carry on a conversation than Julia, for which she was thankful. Except the silence gave her more time to think, more time to worry, more time to wonder. About Sage-hen. About the coming year. About higher taxes. About rustlers. About Charlie.

  About Hugh.

  No, not about Hugh. She wouldn’t think or worry or wonder about Hugh. She wouldn’t. She mustn’t.

  Both physically and mentally weary, she was never more glad to ride into the barnyard at Sage-hen than she was that Friday evening. Dusk had washed the house and outbuildings in tones of gray. Her two wagon horses had been moved from one paddock to another, just one evidence that Peter had been over to tend the livestock in her absence. Cattle grazed on the green spring grass within sight of the barnyard.

  “I’ll see to the horses,” Hugh said as they dismounted.

  “Thanks.” She removed the saddlebags that held the precious payment for the cattle and passed Teddy’s reins to Hugh. Then she headed for the house, Bandit leading the way. Once in her bedroom, she took the money box from its hiding place and put the cash she’d received from Victoria Trent in it. Come Monday, bright and early, she would go into Pine Creek. She would visit the county courthouse to pay her taxes. She would pay her bill at the mercantile, and she would deposit whatever money was left in the bank.

  As she closed and locked the box, she wondered if Hugh would want to be paid for his work tonight or in the morning. And would he leave right away or would he stay a few days longer to rest his horse as she’d suggested? Loneliness rolled over her with a sudden fierceness, the thought of being at Sage-hen without Hugh almost unbearable. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them back, at the same time swallowing a lump that rose in her throat.

  “I’m tired and hungry,” she said aloud. “Once I’ve eaten and had a good night’s sleep, I won’t feel this way.”

  She liked being alone. She truly, truly did.

  After building a fire in the stove, she scrambled most of the eggs Peter had collected while they were away. More than half went to Bandit along with some leftover strips of dried venison. While the dog scarfed down his dinner, Julia went onto the porch. Evening had arrived in earnest, and since the moon had yet to rise, the barn had become a slightly darker shadow amid many shadows.

  “Hugh?” she called.

  He appeared a short while later with a lantern in hand.

  “Are you hungry? I scrambled some eggs.”

  “Thanks. I wouldn’t object to eating something.” He walked toward her.

  He won’t be here much longer. He won’t eat at my table many more times.

  Julia turned on her heel, as if running from the thought.

  She’s running from me.

  Hugh saw it and felt it. Was he surprised? No. Not at all. What surprised him was that she’d ever let him get close to her — physically or emotionally — at all. His work was done. It was time for him to leave. He stepped onto the porch and put the lantern down near the doorway, then he moved inside.

  Julia was in the kitchen, setting a large plate of eggs on the table. Without looking at him, she said, “Not much of a supper. You must be sick and tired of scrambled eggs by now.”

  “I’ve eaten worse things.” He said it lightly, as if it were a joke. It wasn’t. He’d eaten much worse. He’d gone without too. Been so hungry he thought —

  She straightened, her eyes now meeting his. Questions hovered in their blue depths. Questions he wasn’t willing to answer.

  They sat at the table and, after a quick blessing, ate their supper. It wasn’t until Hugh pushed back his empty plate that Julia spoke again.

  “I should give you your pay.”

  “Tom
orrow is soon enough.”

  “When do you plan to leave?” she asked softly. “Didn’t you say Monday?”

  “Yeah, Monday. Unless you need me to stay longer.” Hope rose in his chest, warring with commonsense as he awaited her answer.

  She shook her head. “I’ve kept you from your journey long enough. I want … I want you to know how much I’ve appreciated all you’ve done for me. And for helping Peter too when he needed it.”

  “I’m glad I could do it.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “I wish there was more I could do to help you.”

  “But there isn’t. I’m used to managing on my own, and you’ve repaired just about everything that needed fixing.”

  “What about Charlie Prescott?”

  She drew a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “I can handle him. He’s a bother. Nothing more. I have no need to sell the ranch. My taxes will be paid come Monday and so will my bill at the mercantile.”

  “Taxes?”

  “Yes. They’re due soon, and they’re … they’re higher than a year ago.”

  I’d like to take away your worries, Julia. I’d like to pay those taxes for you. I’d like to protect you from men like Charlie Prescott. I’d like you to know what it is to be loved and cherished, and maybe you’d learn to love me in return.

  Her face paled. Her eyes rounded.

  If I told you the sort of man I used to be, could you ever feel for me the same way Rose feels for Peter? The way I feel for you now. Is there a chance —

  She stood. “I’ll get your pay.” She hurried off to her bedroom.

  He had his answer. She couldn’t be more clear about it if she said it aloud.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Hugh sat up, panic choking his air supply. The details of the nightmare — barred doors, small rooms, unrelieved darkness, dangerous men — were already receding, but the fear the dream had stirred inside him was not so easily forgotten.

  He lowered his feet off the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands. For several weeks — almost his entire time at Sage-hen — his sleep had been undisturbed by nightmares. Strange, how quickly he’d become accustomed to their absence. So much so that he’d believed they were gone for good.

  It wasn’t just this place, although he was sure that was part of it. Hard work made a man sleep hard too. No, it was Julia who had helped drive away the bad dreams. Knowing her, seeing her faith, learning to care for her — it had all changed him.

  But now it was time for him to leave, and the nightmares had returned.

  He remained where he was until his pulse returned to normal. Then he arose, lit the lantern, and got dressed. His Bible lay open on the small table, inviting him to find comfort in its pages, but he felt too restless to sit still and read. He needed to move around.

  Taking the lantern with him, he left his sleeping quarters. His first stop was to check on the cat and her kittens. After another attempt to relocate her litter, the feline seemed ready to keep her babies where Julia wanted them to stay. Funny, he would miss looking in on them every day. Their eyes were open now, just, but they still weren’t very mobile. He didn’t know much about cats, but Julia had said they would start to walk in another week. He wouldn’t have minded seeing that.

  There were plenty of things he wouldn’t have minded seeing, given enough time on this ranch. Perhaps most of all, he would have liked to see what became of the hope growing inside of him. Hope for the man he was becoming. Hope that he could have a life he hadn’t dared want before. Hope that Julia could learn to love him as he loved her.

  He loved her. He loved her more than he’d known it was possible to love.

  He turned away from the stall and walked toward the open door of the barn. The night air drifting through was cool, still fresh from the rainstorm of two days before. Silence swathed the barnyard. All nature slept beneath a full moon.

  His gaze moved toward the house, and he was surprised to see a light burning from within. Then he saw a shadow move across a window. Julia was awake too.

  A sense of foreboding swamped him. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, like the hackles on a dog. That same feeling of danger he’d felt on the trail returned. That sense someone was following or watching, that trouble was coming. He’d been right then that they were being followed. What if —

  Hugh set down the lantern and bolted across the yard. He knocked once, hard, and shouted Julia’s name. Then he lifted the latch and pushed open the door.

  She was seated on a chair in the parlor, a wooden box on her lap. But when the door slammed against the wall, she jumped to her feet. The box fell to the floor, spilling its contents. Bandit sounded an alarm.

  “Are you all right?” Hugh swept the room with his gaze, certain he would find Charlie Prescott or one of his minions somewhere, threatening Julia, lurking in the shadows.

  “All right?” Julia pressed her right hand against her collarbone, as if to still her heart. “Of course I’m all right. Bandit, sit. Quiet.”

  The spaniel obeyed but kept a disapproving eye on Hugh.

  He looked around the room a second time. “I saw you were up. It’s the middle of the night and I … I thought —”

  “I’m perfectly all right, Hugh. I just couldn’t sleep. And you?”

  I’m an idiot. “Couldn’t sleep.” He looked at her again.

  Her hair hung soft and free about the shoulders of her white nightgown. She looked as he imagined an angel would look, pure and sweet and —

  She dropped to her knees and began to retrieve the spilled items.

  “Let me.” He reached for the ring that had rolled across the floor and been stopped by the toe of his boot. As he straightened, he looked at it. His eyes widened. He hadn’t worked for his father without learning to spot rare gems and expensive jewelry. Not what he expected to find in this simple log house. “You should take better care of this.” He handed it to her. “That’s worth more than the cattle you sold to the Trents.”

  “What?” She looked at the ring, then back at Hugh. “It is? I’ve never thought it worth much of anything. It’s rather ugly, don’t you think? What makes you think it’s valuable?”

  There it was. Another opportunity to tell her who he’d been, what he’d been, where he’d been. But he didn’t take it. Why tell her now when he would be gone in a couple more days? “My father knew something about the value of jewelry, and he taught me how to judge stones as a boy.” The truth. Just not the whole truth.

  “You must be mistaken. The ring belonged … it belonged to my husband’s mother, and he never said it was valuable.”

  Hugh shrugged, uncomfortable with where this discussion might take them. “Maybe he didn’t know.”

  “Maybe.” She dropped the ring in the box with the other items and closed the lid. “I’m sorry my wakefulness alarmed you. Thank you for your concern.”

  The urge to take her in his arms, to crush her against him, to kiss her mouth and taste her sweetness rushed over him. If he’d scared her by barging into the parlor, he could just imagine the terror she would feel if he were to act on his desires.

  I love you, Julia.

  She shook her head as if she’d heard his thoughts. “Good night, Hugh.”

  With a nod, he took several steps backward and departed, closing the door as he went.

  The open door had let in the cool night air, but Julia felt strangely warm as she sank onto the chair once again. She’d seen something in Hugh’s eyes, something both strange and familiar, something both frightening and exhilarating. She was relieved he was gone, and yet she felt his absence, like a gaping hole. How much worse that hole would be when Hugh rode away from Sage-hen for the last time.

  Drawing a deep breath, she opened the lid of the box one more time. She picked up the ring. Valuable? But it wasn’t even pretty. Could he be right? Was it worth more than she’d been paid for her cattle? If that were true —

  But it couldn’t be true. Angus had told her it was merely cut glass. If it w
as valuable, he would have taunted her with it, told her he wouldn’t let her wear it because she was so unworthy. Then again, he hadn’t wanted his half-brother to know about it. Perhaps because it was worth so much?

  No, Hugh was wrong about it. And besides, it could make no difference in the middle of the night. Best she go to bed and try to get some sleep.

  She put the ring in the box, then she returned the box to its spot in the wardrobe. Bandit went to his favorite place on the rug near the bed and made a few circles before settling into his curled position. Julia gave his head a couple of strokes and got into bed, snuggling down beneath the covers. But when she closed her eyes, she envisioned Hugh and her insides seemed to roll around like a tumbleweed before the wind.

  He’s leaving soon. Life will return to normal.

  Normal was a childhood spent alone in a shack or alone in a room above a saloon. Normal was school children saying awful things about her mother. Normal was a husband who was cold and loveless and sometimes cruel. Normal was the feeling of the back of his hand against her cheek. Normal was the pain of burying a stillborn child, then a second. Normal was living alone on this ranch, sleeping alone in this bed, wondering how she would make it through another summer, another winter.

  I don’t want normal. I want Hugh.

  But she couldn’t want him. They couldn’t have a future together even if he did care for her. She would never marry again. She could never give ownership of herself to another man to do with as he pleased. And that’s what marriage was. Giving oneself away.

  Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church.

  Was it possible for any man to love like that? Perhaps. Peter might love Rose that way. Were there others? Could Hugh Brennan be such a man?

  She rolled onto her side and drew her knees toward her chest, trying to drive Hugh’s image from her mind, trying not to remember him as they’d sat near the campfire on the cattle drive. Trying not to remember the easy way he sat a horse. Trying not to remember him at the table with his head bowed in prayer or as they ate their meals. Trying not to remember him wielding an ax, making certain she would have ample firewood for the winter. Trying not to remember him holding one of the kittens. Trying not to remember his smiles or his laughter or his tenderness or his concern.