Wolf Creek Widow (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 4)

by Penny Richards

  Meg sat silent, letting the faltering conversation flow around her, trying to corral her thoughts that jumped from the mortifying fact that Ace had been the one to find her, to anger over his audacity in telling her she should let go of the past. How dare he presume to tell her she should be thankful for her circumstances? What did he know about it? He was a man, and men didn’t have to put up with the things women did.

  He’d said he wanted to fight back against the violence done to him in prison, but hadn’t because of his mother. The problem, Meg thought, was that it did women little good to fight back. If she’d dared to return a blow to Elton, she would no doubt have been found dead, and then what would have happened to her babies?

  She sneaked a peek at Ace. He didn’t seem the least bit upset by their argument. In fact, he seemed in better spirits than ever. He ate two deer-steak sandwiches and drank two glasses of the tea Meg had made, clearly enjoying the sweet, cold beverage.

  When he went to get his second glass, Meg found herself regretting her impulsive gesture to make something special for him. Then she realized that she and Nita were both enjoying it, too, and felt like the most wretched person alive for being so petty. Still, her shame didn’t dull her anger at him.

  She cast him another sideways glance. The last thing she wanted to do was walk around the farm with him and pretend interest in getting things up to snuff. She’d rather he just took the laundry on to town, got her money and disappeared for the day while she wandered through the woods and tried to soak up what peace she could.

  To her dismay, Nita was determined to keep to the agenda, despite the tension between Meg and Ace. Like her son, Nita Allen was single-minded beneath that mild, helpful exterior. Unwilling to disappoint her, Meg had no choice but to bow to the inevitable.

  When the kitchen was clean, she went out to join Ace, who was stacking an armload of split logs beneath the shelter of the lean-to. He’d made a considerable dent in the pile of wood he’d split earlier. Exhausted from standing in a hot kitchen wielding an iron all morning, she found his tirelessness annoying.

  No emotion showed on his face when he turned and saw her watching. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she said, but she stopped and looked around as if she had no idea where to start. The truth was she didn’t.

  “I’ve noticed some things that could stand some repair,” he said, “but I’m sure you have a better understanding of what needs doing than I do.”

  Gritting her teeth, Meg forced herself to ignore the man sauntering along at her side and focus on the task at hand. She would get through this and she would get through it without losing her temper.

  To be fair, she appreciated his and his mother’s willingness to help, and she knew that there was much that needed doing, but the fact was that she couldn’t afford to do much. With a frustrated sigh, she planted her hands on her hips and scanned the area, determined to get through the next half hour and keep the peace. Her gaze landed on the rusty roof of the small structure they called a barn. “Some of the tin on the barn roof is loose.”

  “I saw that. I think I can nail it back into place. I may have to pick up one new piece of tin.”

  “I can’t afford to buy tin.”

  He slanted a bland look at her. “Then I’ll do the best I can with some nails.” He gestured toward the rickety corral. “What about the fence? It looks like a couple of posts and some boards need replacing.”

  She didn’t answer. Was he listening? she wondered, as she felt her control slipping.

  “I can cut a couple of small trees down for posts,” he was saying as he scanned the area, totally unaware that all the color had leached from her face. “I’ll figure out something for the rest. I think we have a partial roll of chicken wire to replace that one side of the chicken pen. It looks like easy pickings if a fox comes along, and I’ve been seeing a few tracks around.”

  Meg listened to the litany of repairs. It seemed endless. Her head began to pound and whirl in confusion and futility. Roofs. Fences. Foxes after her chickens. How could she deal with all these things when it was a chore to just get out of bed and get dressed every morning?

  “Meg?” She felt, rather than saw, gentle hands reach out to grasp her shoulders. “Meg.”

  She looked toward the sound of the voice. Ace was frowning down at her.

  “Are you okay?” His fingertips combed through the side of her hair, tucking back a stray strand that had escaped her braid.

  She drew a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. “I’m just... It’s so... I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry,” he chided. His fingertips brushed over the line of her jaw with feather lightness.

  She barely dared to breathe. Was it anxiety that held her so still or the tenderness of his touch?

  “I’m the one who should apologize, and Mother will be upset with herself for all this disturbing you.”

  “It’s all right,” she said. The last thing she wanted to do was make Nita feel bad.

  “Sometimes we forget that even though our intentions are good, you’re at a far different place than we are. We’re rushing you—”

  “No!” she interrupted. “I want to work. I need to do something to keep from thinking too much, to keep from remembering...”

  “I understand, but I imagine after everything you’ve been through, just coming back here has been pretty overwhelming.”

  She nodded, and Ace let his arms fall to his sides. “Come with me.”

  “What?” Where? Why?

  He held out his hand. “I want to show you something.”

  As if she were in a daze, Meg placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her along behind him. She almost had to run to keep up. To her surprise, he led her into the woods, along the path he took to the place he’d been cutting trees.

  As they approached the spot, he slowed his pace, stopping several yards away from the clearing, where one of the trees he’d felled the day before still lay. She had no idea why they were there, and after a few moments of watching him examine the area, she opened her mouth to ask.

  Immediately, he reached out and silenced her with a finger against her lips. His touch was warm; his finger was calloused. He gave his chin a sharp jerk and pointed upward.

  Meg looked but didn’t see anything except a squirrel with a mouthful of leaves sitting on the branch of a pine tree across the small clearing. She frowned at Ace, who whispered, “Watch.”

  After a moment, the squirrel looked around, seemed to decide there was no immediate danger, scampered up to a higher branch and stopped. Once more, it sat stone-still except for its twitching tail, then looked around and darted higher. The squirrel repeated this strange activity until it reached the top branches of the tree, where it fussed and tucked until the materials were exactly right.

  Building a nest.

  Then it started back down the pine, stopping at the same branches along the way. In a flash, it was headed back up with another mouthful of leaves, pausing at exactly the same spots and going through the same routine once again. After they’d watched the ritual twice more, Ace turned her and indicated that she should precede him back to the house.

  When they’d gone several yards down the path, she asked, “Isn’t it a bit late to be building a nest?”

  “It is. It’s my fault.” There was genuine regret in his voice. “I was distracted yesterday and didn’t look closely enough when I picked a tree to cut down. Her nest was a casualty, so she’s rebuilding.”

  “Why did you want me to see it?”

  Something that might have been a teasing smile appeared briefly on his finely shaped lips. “I’m going to let you think about that awhile. Let’s get back. I still have to take the laundry to town.”

  It was only when the wagon had disappeared down the road to Wolf Creek that Meg realized she w
asn’t angry with him anymore. There had been nothing but gentleness in his voice and his touch. She hadn’t been afraid, either.

  * * *

  Ace returned near suppertime with more wash. Thankfully this batch was smaller. After he’d unloaded the baskets and carried them into the house, he handed Meg the money she’d received from Hattie and Ellie.

  “You and Nita keep part of this,” she said, holding out some of the cash. “There’s no way I could have done it without you.”

  Nita shook her head. “You’ll need it for those babies. Ace and I are fine. We’re glad to help out.”

  “It’s very sweet of you, Nita,” Meg said. “But coming here every day must be getting old, and I know you have things at your place that need doing.”

  “There’s always something to do on a farm,” she said with a smile. “Even one as small as ours. I know you’re worried about us, but don’t ever think that we don’t understand that our presence here every day is an intrusion on you, even though it’s necessary right now.”

  Before Meg could reply, Nita asked. “How often do you usually go into town for laundry?”

  “Usually on Mondays and Saturdays. I deliver the clean things when I pick up another dirty load. It saves two trips. Why?”

  “Well, we agreed to help out at least until the cold sets in, and we will, but it won’t be long before we have things more or less caught up around here. What if I come on laundry and ironing days? That will give me some time at my place. If you need help with the children once they get home, Ace can help see to them, or I’ll be more than happy to come over. How does that sound?”

  “Fine,” Meg said. She looked askance at Ace. “Except that I’m sure Ace didn’t have taking care of babies in mind when he agreed to help me.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said, a rare, crooked grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “In fact, it’s high time I got a little experience, since she keeps nagging me to find a wife and give her grandchildren.”

  Meg’s breath hung in her throat. Ace as a father. She couldn’t picture it, yet at the same time, she had no doubt he would do it with as much steadiness and grace as he did everything else.

  “Well, that’s settled, then,” Nita said, pouring the last of the buttered potatoes into a bowl. She smiled. “Let’s say the blessing and eat. I need to do a little weeding before dark.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Nita and Ace left Meg standing on the porch, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her skirt. As soon as they were out of earshot, Nita asked, “So what happened out there before lunch? She looked fit to be tied.”

  He flashed his mother one of his infrequent grins. “That’s what happened.”

  “I don’t follow you,” Nita said.

  “I made her mad today.”

  “Oh, Ace! We’re supposed to be helping,” Nita chided. “She’s in a very delicate frame of mind and should be treated with gentleness.”

  “I disagree. I think she needs to start feeling again,” he argued. “I just shook her out of that little shell she’s been hiding under. I think it’s a step toward coming back to join the living.”

  “She is pretty unemotional for the most part,” Nita said.

  “It’s like she’s holding the world at arm’s length. Like she thinks that if she doesn’t get involved she won’t be hurt anymore.”

  “I agree, but I also get the feeling that she’s having a hard time just adjusting to life without Elton.”

  “That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Elton was no good.”

  “I know that, and so does she,” Nita told him. “She may not realize it, but the dread she must have felt whenever he came around had to be paralyzing, and it will take her time to recognize the fact that she doesn’t have to look over her shoulder at every loud noise.”

  As usual, his mother was right. Being a woman gave her an insight into Meg’s thinking that he didn’t have. “It will be a long road back,” he agreed. “Today, when I tried to talk to her about things that needed doing, she couldn’t seem to take it all in or deal with it.”

  “We need to stop rushing her,” Nita said thoughtfully. “She must be more than a little overwhelmed right now.”

  “She let me take her to the woods.” Seeing the question in his mother’s eyes, he said, “I wanted her to see a squirrel that was rebuilding her nest—her life—and to think about it.”

  “She’s taking baby steps.”

  “I’m going to keep encouraging her to take those little steps until memories of her past don’t hurt anymore and she starts feeling again.”

  “That’s quite a goal, son.”

  “I know, but I also know that she has to let go of all the bad before she can replace it with good.” He met his mother’s troubled gaze. “I won’t be happy until she cries.”

  * * *

  Meg watched them go. As usual, she experienced mixed feelings as the wagon pulled down the lane. It was a relief to see the back of Ace. Hopefully, once he was out of sight and out of mind, she could think about the things he’d said without growing angry all over again...or remembering the gentleness of his touch as he’d tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek.

  She managed to keep thoughts of him at bay while she sat on the porch with her cup of tea and listened to the sounds of the countryside readying itself for sleep. The songs of the crickets and frogs and even the lone call of a coyote filled her with a calm that had too often been lacking in her life.

  She watched the evening star appear and sat with her cooling drink in her hand until the heavens were littered with other sparkling gems. The vastness of the ebony sky filled her with an overwhelming sense of awe. When was the last time she’d even looked up? She was struck anew with the knowledge that God had spoken everything around her into being.

  There was a huge world out there filled with people. It all belonged to Him. She belonged to Him. At least she claimed to. That thought made her uncomfortable, and with a jerky movement, she stood and went inside to her solitary bed.

  Then, with the sound of the crickets and bullfrogs filtering through the screen at the windows, she let her mind roam back over the events of the day. To her annoyance, most of those events centered on Ace Allen. His calmness. His gentleness. And the way he seemed so in tune to the world around him.

  Remembering his statement about how she should proceed with her life and all the things she should be thankful for rekindled the anger that her quiet time outside had calmed. What did he know about what she was going through?

  Plenty.

  The word seemed to come from nowhere, slipping into her thoughts and demanding that she take a closer look. Though their circumstances were far different, there was no doubt that his time in prison had given him a clear understanding of injustice and pain, just as her marriage to Elton had to her.

  She realized that in her own way, she’d been in captivity. She’d been Elton’s prisoner, he her guard and elected punisher whenever she did something to displease him. She never knew what that something might be, and it didn’t matter how sorry she was for whatever she had done.

  You have nothing to be sorry for.

  Ace’s words slipped softly into her mind. He was right, she thought. Deep inside, she knew she had nothing to regret, just as she knew she had done nothing wrong those times Elton had taken out his wrath on her. Any wrongdoing she’d been accused of, any unacceptable attitudes he may have claimed she’d had, were all products of his twisted thinking or his drunken fancies.

  More than that, and perhaps worse, his treatment of her had been his carefully calculated way of keeping her under his thumb. She suspected it had been a way of making him feel more important, more like a man.

  And she’d allowed it.

  She knew from sermons at church and studying her Bible how men were
supposed to treat their wives, and she knew that a real man didn’t have to be cruel or make a woman feel small and insignificant to bolster his own manhood.

  Gabe Gentry didn’t do that with Rachel. Caleb treated Abby like a queen. Dan Mercer and Sheriff Garrett both seemed besotted with their new fiancées, and Ace...

  An image of him flashed through Meg’s mind and she sucked in a startled breath. His sheer size and the intensity that radiated from him made him look the part of an Elton; instead, he was the perfect example of force held carefully in check.

  There was softness in him, too.

  Strange, that contradiction. She’d seen it when he’d trailed his fingertips along her jaw. His touch had been gentle and his voice filled with concern as he’d coaxed her away from the edge of the dark void that called to her and back to the light. She realized with a bit of wonder that she hadn’t pulled away from him. She’d felt no suffocating alarm, no overwhelming desire to escape.

  No fear.

  The knowledge filled her with something that almost felt like a sense of accomplishment. A step in the right direction. She thought about that while crickets sang outside her window, and her mind whirled with questions and possibilities. Gently, the arms of Morpheus closed around her, and just as she felt herself sink into the welcome embrace of slumber, she heard again the claims her friends had made about Ace.

  He’s a good man.

  * * *

  A noisy commotion shattered Meg’s sleep and drove away a dream she didn’t remember. She bolted upright, her eyes wide and her hands clutching the sheet in fright. Her heart pounded in her chest and her mouth was dry with fear. The last time a ruckus had awakened her at night was when Elton and Joseph Jones had broken out of jail and come back to get the loot they’d hidden in the barn.

  The loud sound of squawking snapped her out of the memory. Something was after the chickens! Probably the fox Ace had mentioned. Knowing she couldn’t afford to lose any of her precious laying hens, Meg threw back the sheet and raced barefoot into the kitchen, where the double-barrel shotgun rested in a rack above the fireplace. The soft glow from a waning moon gave her enough light to see her way.