Jacob grabbed the paper. The huge number stared back at him.
“Do you have enough?” Bryant’s voice was rough and breathy.
Bryant knew the answer as well as he did.
Annie tensed beside him, and her fingers dug deeper into his arm.
He broke the silence with a single whispered, “No.”
Chapter Twelve
Standing next to Gregory’s desk in the cabin she’d thought she’d saved by remarrying, Annie took the loan paper back from Jacob and stared at it again.
How had she not known?
She slumped onto the desk’s chair.
No use fighting the city. She’d found proof of the loan tucked into the back of one of the ranch’s ledgers. Gregory had signed away their land without her knowledge.
Jacob moved to lean against the front room’s window. His head rested against the pane as he stared out at the grazing cattle.
What should they do with the cattle while they looked for another place? Could they afford to keep them? Oh, what were they to do?
Jacob heaved a sigh, and Annie dropped her head into her hands. He probably mourned the ranch’s loss more than she, for he’d ended up marrying her for nothing.
“Don’t cry, Mama.” Spencer’s little hand patted her thigh. “We’ve got the marshal.”
And the marshal sure had them. Poor Jacob.
She sniffed and tried to smile at her son as if life hadn’t just imploded. “Go gather some crates. I think there are some baskets in the barn loft. We can use them to pack.”
Spencer shuffled out the door, letting in a breeze that snaked its cool tendrils into every gap in her clothing. At least they had somewhere warm to go.
Annie forced herself up and crossed over to Jacob. “Do you think there’s a way to get this place back?”
“I’ve been thinking, but…” His voice was husky. “I’m not knowledgeable enough on property law.” His hand clenched against the window’s ledge. “I’m not a marshal because I know what I’m doing, I took this job because...” He inhaled sharply through his nose, and his lips flattened in a small, tense line. “Because I hadn’t enough money for a ranch, and Bryant put in a good word for me. I hadn’t intended to be marshal this long.”
How he must rue marrying her as well.
“Since I know so little, we’d have to hire a lawyer, but Mr. Grayson’s a good friend of McGill’s. Too good a friend.”
A meadowlark hopped outside in the new grass, chirping a string of high notes, unaware that its cheery melody clashed with the minor chords of distress filling the cabin.
“And by the time we find another lawyer, this property will be sold.” Jacob hung his head. “And that’s if anything can be done anyway. The city should’ve told you, should’ve given you a chance, but McGill’s middle name isn’t ‘fairness’ and if the deed and loan aren’t in your name...”
The tears clogging his voice made it hard to keep looking at him. Gregory had never cried, and right now, she was barely keeping her own emotions in check.
“I’m so busy following orders and doing the same never-ending tasks that I’ve never studied the law beyond what I needed to know. Not that I ever wanted to know more.” Jacob struck the wall with the side of his fist.
Annie licked her lips, but couldn’t think of anything to say. No words would fix this.
Spencer opened the door, wearing a wicker basket on his head while dragging in a dusty crate. If Annie’s ears weren’t reverberating with the sound of Jacob punching the wall, she might’ve been tempted to chuckle. But the chains of hopelessness tightening around her chest made it difficult enough to breathe.
Could Jacob really do nothing?
“It seems a lawman I remain.” Jacob’s whisper grew in intensity. “So you bet I’m going to start digging. I’ve always thought McGill was shady, but with Bryant there, I figured he’d warn me if anything needed investigating. But I’m not so sure now.” He shook his head. “McGill must be pressuring Bryant or something. He isn’t acting right and has clammed up every time I’ve asked him about what’s worrying him.”
“What should we do then?” Annie scanned the room. “We have to be out by Tuesday, and I’m not certain I can…” The knot in her throat choked out any further words. How could she leave this place where the last of her children had been born and her late husband’s dreams lay?
How could he have signed it away without telling her? This ranch was the inheritance he’d worked so hard to give their children.
“Pack enough for you to be comfortable tonight. We’ll take the rest home tomorrow.”
Home. Jacob’s home. Inside the city limits. Surrounded by dusty roads, city clatter, and people.
The back bedroom door slammed. Celia forged into the room and stomped her foot, her expression as fiery as her hair. “This is home. I’m not living anywhere else.”
As much as Annie wanted to throw her hands in the air and scream the same thing, she also wanted to throttle her daughter. Now was not the time for tantrums. “Unfortunately, that’s not possible.” Her voice cracked.
Celia pointed at Jacob and marched toward him. “You were invited into this family to save Daddy’s land. So save it.” She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You’re the marshal, and I say we don’t leave. If you don’t force us off, who will?”
“I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t defy the law, because I am the law.” Jacob pushed off from the wall and reached for her shoulder.
She took a step back. “Don’t ‘honey’ me,” her voice warbled.
“Only her father called her ‘honey.’” Annie shot Jacob a look to warn him to tread lightly.
“That’s right, and you’re not half the man he was considering he would’ve fought for this place.” Celia waved her arms about with vehemence. “Don’t you believe Ma? Daddy wasn’t a gambler.” Celia drew her brows down so far Annie couldn’t see her daughter’s eyes behind her fine lashes.
Jacob drew a breath, filling his chest with air, and Annie braced herself for him to shout back, but his voice came out quiet and steady. “I do believe your mother didn’t know about this. I wouldn’t have married her if she wasn’t trustworthy. But as you said, I’m the marshal. I’m not a—” Jacob’s voice disappeared. He swallowed. “I’m not a rancher, so we have to return to town. If I try to fight this without any legal standing, I’ll end up fired. And then how will I feed us?”
The sheen of wetness in his eyes caused Annie’s heart to squeeze. Celia had to stop. “Darling, you should be thankful for the marshal. If he hadn’t married me this morning, we’d have nowhere to live.” She placed a hand on Celia’s tense forearm. “He’ll do what he can. But for now, I think you best talk to God about your anger and ungratefulness, for He has been good enough to provide.”
Celia huffed and stomped back to her room. Her daughter deserved heavenly discipline for the way she was acting.
Annie likely did too with how often she’d grumbled this past year over the hand God had dealt her. And yet, He’d saved her in the nick of time.
Lord, I am grateful for your provision, even if I may not feel so at the moment. Help me not to dwell on what I’ve lost.
But poor Jacob. Why had God dragged him into this mess?
Chapter Thirteen
With Spencer and Annie slumped beside him on the wagon fast asleep and Celia pouting in the back, twilight was all that welcomed Jacob home. The windows of his house were void of light, but soon this monstrosity for one would have more than enough residents to chase away the emptiness.
“Whoa!” His call slowed Annie’s team and startled her awake. Her fingers clamped around his arm as she scrambled for something to keep herself upright.
Though the land he’d hoped to gain would never be his, he wasn’t completely cheated—though the ache in his chest begged to differ. With his free hand, he cupped the warm, delicate hand clenching his bicep. He had a wife to honor and children to protect. Though right now it didn’t feel real
, and maybe even slightly unfair in light of the circumstances, many a man considered that a privilege. So he would choose to see it that way until he no longer had to remind himself of the truth of it.
Annie released her hold as soon as she righted herself. “Must’a fallen asleep.” She yawned then shook Spencer’s shoulders. “Wake up, son.”
His head lolled to the side, and Annie smiled. “He’s always slept like the dead.” Her smile quickly reverted into a frown.
Jacob grimaced. Perhaps that hadn’t been the best way to put it, but if not for his little chest moving, he sure did look as if he’d left this world. “Don’t wake him. I’ll carry him upstairs.”
Celia jumped off the back and trudged onto the porch. With a huff, she sat on the lone outdoor chair, her arms tucked about her waist.
Jacob assisted Annie to the ground. She plodded toward the porch without even glancing up at him. Her dragging feet and drooping shoulders put a twist in his gut.
He grabbed one of the crates off the wagon. Though the loss of land had taken the spring from his step too, thanks be to God he’d not married Annie solely for her ranch.
He placed the crate on the steps and walked over to his wife, who’d slumped against the siding. “Annie, look at me.”
She raised her head just enough for him to catch a glint of moonlight in her amber eyes.
“Don’t feel bad about this. I wish we were at the ranch instead of here, yes, but I’m still glad to have you.” He turned toward Celia. “All three of you.”
Celia humphed.
He squeezed Annie’s upper arm. “Why don’t you get your things, and I’ll get Spencer.” Heading back to the wagon, Jacob raised his voice, “Help your mother, Celia.”
The girl stomped over to the crate he’d left on the porch and hefted it with an exaggerated groan. Her overall attitude needed adjustment, but he’d ease into that slowly. First, he needed a better idea of how Annie felt about her eldest’s grouchy outlook and what she’d already tried discipline-wise.
Once inside, Jacob lit the lamp in his empty parlor while supporting Spencer’s sleeping frame. The boy hung heavy over his shoulder. If only that kind of sleep would visit them all tonight—they’d need good rest to face the upcoming days of adjustment and broken dreams. He’d known this evening wouldn’t be anything like a honeymoon, but he’d not thought it would feel like a nightmare.
Annie set her trunk inside the entryway and rubbed her arms. Celia headed back outside, letting the door slam behind her. Spencer didn’t even flinch.
“So, this is home.” Tonight was the first time he was thankful he’d purchased such a large house, which had been the only place available when he’d agreed to take the marshal position. He’d been too impatient to sleep in a jail cell until something smaller could be built or came up for sale. How he’d lamented his impatience every night since. The house’s creaks and groans had magnified the emptiness.
But it seemed God had planned for this disaster all along. If the Almighty knew years ago he’d need this house tonight, then why worry about tomorrow?
Annie hadn’t moved from where she’d dropped her things, her eyes wide open despite looking heavy with sleep. “I had, um, back at the cabin, figured I’d put the kids together in Spencer’s room, so that we’d be able to well, have separate ... rooms.”
He cleared his throat, hoping to sound unaffected. “That would’ve worked just fine.”
Sleeping together would be difficult right now. And not just because they didn’t really know each other. He could only imagine what a woman next to him in bed would do to his mind and body, and he wouldn’t force his attentions on Annie. He’d wait until she was ready.
Celia barged back inside, skirted her mother, and dropped another crate. Jacob cringed at the loud echo, but Spencer still didn’t flinch.
Jacob pointed toward the stairwell. “There are four bedrooms upstairs. No one will have to share.”
He didn’t have furnishings for each room, but he’d packed the kids’ blankets and pillows. He’d get their beds tomorrow. “There’s not much in them since I don’t have many visitors. Most of my overnight guests are drunks.”
Annie’s eyes widened.
He twisted his hand in the air as if turning a key. “And locked behind bars.”
She relaxed and nodded, but didn’t return his smile.
Time to settle in and hope things looked brighter in the morning. “Celia, follow me with Spencer’s bedding. I’ll show you the rooms.”
He led them up the squeaky staircase.
Though the house looked spacious from the street, upstairs, one entire side was taken up by one bedroom and the stairs while the other side was split into four, making the three bedrooms and storage room all quite small. He chose the first room for Spencer as it was hardly wider than the hallway. “Lay his things in the corner there.”
“It’s so sma—”
Annie’s elbow stopped Celia from finishing the thought. “Thank you, Jacob.”
He passed through the door and settled Spencer onto the bedding Celia had dropped, and Annie stooped to unlace the boy’s shoes.
“We’ll go down and get the rest while you make him comfortable. Celia, you’ll sleep in the next room.” Jacob gave her a look, warning her not to protest, and was happy to hear her clomp downstairs behind him.
Once outside, Jacob gathered Celia’s blankets and handed them to her. “I’ll grab your mother’s things.”
But where should Annie sleep? Celia was right, the guest rooms were small, though the two others were bigger than Spencer’s. But Annie would likely protest taking over his room since she’d done nothing but repeatedly apologize for inconveniencing him.
Then again, if she found her tiny quarters uncomfortable, she might be tempted to move to his room faster—
He tripped on a stair and nearly lost the trunk before he caught the railing, keeping himself mostly upright. Celia looked at him over her shoulder as if he were an annoying little brother before continuing to climb.
He shook his head to toss out every thought of Annie leaving her room for his so he could get up the stairs without busting his nose.
After waiting for Celia to disappear into her room, Jacob walked to the next one, certain he’d find Annie there since she was no longer with Spencer.
She sat on the cot he’d placed here for the times he’d housed friends passing through. With the moonlight behind her, she was nothing more than a silhouette.
He placed her trunk by the window. “Can I get you anything?”
“You’ve done enough, thank you.” She stared out the window. “I just want to lie down.”
“Of course.” He nodded and turned for the door.
“And never wake up.”
Surely she hadn’t meant for him to hear those whispered words, but they stabbed his heart nonetheless.
He hesitated for a second before stepping toward her. He laid a hand on her soft hair and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “Sleep, Annie. Things will look better in the morning.”
When she didn’t answer, he backed out of the room, crossed the hall, and slumped into the chair next to his washstand. What Annie had said simply reflected her fatigue and upset. He shouldn’t let the careless whisper affect him.
He leaned over to take his boots off. Just days ago, she’d said she wouldn’t have been willing to marry anyone else in town, so there had to be something other than his able back and ability to ride that she’d looked forward to having in her life.
But since she seemed so despondent, maybe not.
Though she’d told the children to be thankful he was here for them, she seemed less than encouraged herself.
He studied his reflection in the nearby mirror. Had she mentioned anything other than his being morally upright for why she’d chosen him? He closed his eyes and tried to think of what else she’d said—other than he’d been her choice over any other.
But what if she’d only said that so he’d ag
ree to save her land?
The last crate. Annie swiped her brow, then packed the remainder of her belongings into a box the mercantile had loaned her.
In the corners of her empty cabin, cobwebs waved goodbye in the drafts.
She ran her hand atop the cook stove, a present from Gregory’s parents. There was no reason to force Jacob into hauling the heavy appliance into town when he already had one.
She pulled the loan paper out again and reread every word for the third time that morning. Gregory’s signature looked a little shaky. Had he been a drunkard as well? Had everything she’d known about him been a lie? She let the paper fall to the floor so she could massage her temples.
Could the man she’d lived with for sixteen years be nothing like she’d believed him to be? They’d married at the tender age of seventeen and eighteen, so he hadn’t been old enough to hide a shady past from her.
Though he’d never been one to talk much, she’d never thought he’d hide something as life-changing as this. Had he truly been a murderer, a gambler, and possibly a drunk? Was she that gullible? Had she no discernment?
Before she’d proposed to Jacob, she’d convinced herself he would do right by them, but without a ranch, would he? Her beliefs in regard to Jacob’s character would now be tested by fire. Would they prove any better than her assumptions about her husband?
Her late husband.
When would she get used to thinking of Jacob as husband first?
She scooped the loan paper off the floor and crammed the horrible thing into the crate next to the ledgers. She marched outside and shoved the last of her stuff onto the farm wagon.
Only one more thing to do.
Her feet crunched atop the old clumps of dry grass as she walked across her ranch for the last time.
After passing through the picket gate, Annie sat on the ground near Gregory’s rock-outlined grave and hugged her legs against her chest. She perched her chin on her knees and gazed at the graves, trying to memorize the details of each one. The dull ache in her chest these last two days gave way to full agony. How could she leave them? Why must her heart throb more now than when she’d placed these three children in the ground?
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