by Cat Cahill
“I’ll be here first thing in the morning,” he said, replacing his hat but not taking his eyes from her.
Grace felt rooted to the spot. “I’ll see you then.”
A moment passed, and finally he said, “You ought to go inside.”
Warmth flooded through her and she nodded, feeling like the silliest, most foolish girl. “Yes. Have a good night.”
And she raced inside before those eyes could pull her under entirely.
Chapter Fourteen
Jasper stood outside the boarding house for a moment, trying to collect himself. She’d called him Jasper, in that sweet, soft voice of hers. He could listen to her say his name over and over again, and never tire of it. And she’d told him she thought Miss Boone didn’t deserve him. The words had puffed him up like a politician collecting endorsements.
The possibilities of why she’d say such a thing spun through his head. It likely meant nothing at all. Perhaps she was repaying him a kindness for what he’d told her about her situation with Burcham. But he’d meant every word he said . . . did she?
And then there was the reasoning for him walking her home, which he suspected she saw right through. He hadn’t really thought it through himself. He’d engaged Deputy Jennings to protect his mother and sister, and while it had briefly occurred to him to do so for Grace instead, he’d immediately dismissed the idea. The deputy was perfectly good at his work, but Jasper didn’t want to let Grace out of his sight. And, if he was honest, the thought of her spending so much time alone with a man so friendly and good-looking as Jennings made him grit his teeth.
As if he had some sort of claim on her heart.
Jasper finally stepped away, toward home. The idea was ludicrous, particularly since Miss Boone had only just dropped him like day-old bread. Why, he—
Jasper stopped short, mid-thought, as a shadow darted away from a door on the side of the boarding house. It was a man, running down the narrow strip of dirt between Mrs. Geary’s and the business next door. So far as he knew, Mrs. Geary employed no men at all in her establishment.
He didn’t think twice and took off after the figure, who had just rounded the rear of the building. Jasper picked up his pace, and reaching the dirt alley behind the boardinghouse, spotted the man again. He wasted no time following him, racing down the alley and then turning right between two buildings that faced Macon Street.
Jasper emerged onto the road, his breath coming hard. He expected to see the man, but a quick glance in each direction revealed nothing. Only a couple of ladies out for an evening stroll and a well-dressed gentleman Jasper recognized as the proprietor of the Fremont County Record.
He turned left. The man had to be somewhere. He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air. Jasper paused next to the newspaperman.
“Pardon me, Mr. Cramer,” he said. “Have you seen a man running this direction?”
Cramer ran a finger over his generous mustache. “I have not.” He squinted at Jasper, taking in his rumpled state. “Did he take something from you?”
“No, but I fear he was somewhere he didn’t belong.” He thanked the man and resumed running down the wooden sidewalk. He made it clear to the end of the road, where the dirt and houses gave way to the scrub and sage-covered hill that rose to the north of the prison at the edge of town, then turned and ran back the other direction, although he knew by this point it was a hopeless cause.
The man was long gone, and Jasper didn’t know where to, who he was, or why he’d been at the boardinghouse.
The boardinghouse.
Grace.
He picked up his pace again and headed back toward Mrs. Geary’s, praying the entire way nothing was amiss.
Chapter Fifteen
The moment Grace entered the boardinghouse, she was assailed by squeals and giggles. Following the commotion into the dining room, she found several girls crowded together.
“What’s happening?” she asked the nearest, setting her reticule down on a table.
“Mr. Danforth finally asked Violet to marry him!” Jilly answered, her face radiant with happiness for her friend.
“Oh!” Grace exclaimed, sliding between Jilly and Thomasina. “I’m so happy for you.”
Violet grinned and clasped her hands together. “He said we could marry late this summer. He’s already talked to the minister!”
“Well, he certainly had plenty of time to do so,” Thomasina said, and Violet flushed.
“He was nervous, that was all,” Violet said, a note of defensiveness in her voice.
The chatter about marriage and proposals went on, and Grace’s mind wandered to what Jasper had recently lost. Her heart broke for him, but it also seemed as if he’d been saved from a lifetime of unhappiness. He deserved someone who was as excited as Violet about a proposal of marriage. Someone who shared his dreams for the store, who loved his family as her own, who had eyes for no one else.
Someone like herself.
Grace went warm at the very thought, and she took a step back from her friends. They were all so preoccupied with Violet and talk of marriage, no one noticed Grace slip away from the dining room.
Back in the hallway, she steadied herself with a hand on the banister of the stairs. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to do something about the emotions lashing at her insides. Instead, she dug her nails into the polished wood.
Since when did she hope to marry Jasper? It must be Miss Lovelorn’s advice, making her feel fanciful. Or perhaps it was the way he watched her, looking as if he’d fight dragons like a knight of old, all to keep her safe. Or maybe it was his awkwardness outside her door. She’d never seen him like that, uncertain what to do with his hands or where to look. And then his words, the ones she’d never forget, where he said he didn’t trust the deputy with her. Was there a twinge of jealousy in those words, or had she imagined it?
One thing was absolutely, painfully, embarrassingly clear. For better or for worse, she was falling for Jasper.
Grace was halfway up the stairs when she realized she’d left her reticule in the dining room. She couldn’t go back for it now, though. Not with her face on fire and her mind whirring with thoughts of him. She needed a moment. Time to splash her face with water and a few minutes to lie down and let these feelings pass.
Oh, how she prayed they’d pass. How else would she be able to see him again in the morning? How could she work with him all day? Surely he’d notice if she turned into a blushing, blubbering fool.
Grace paused just outside her room. Her key was in her reticule. Groaning, she reached for the doorknob in the hopes she’d forgotten to lock it that morning. The door swung open just barely at her slightest touch.
She stood, staring at the crack between the door and the frame. Had she left it unlocked? But even if she had, she certainly would have closed the door fully. Perhaps Mrs. Geary had needed to go inside.
But no . . . Mrs. Geary had made it clear she would only enter their rooms with permission.
Her heart in her throat, Grace gently pushed the door open farther.
And then she screamed.
Chapter Sixteen
The scream echoed through the boardinghouse just as one of the girls let Jasper inside. All propriety forgotten, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the landing. He spotted Grace immediately off to the left at the top of the stairs.
She stood, her hands pressed to her mouth as she stared inside an open room.
“Grace!” He was by her side in seconds.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He took hold of her hand, torn between comforting her and wanting to know what she’d seen. Footsteps on the stairs behind him forced him to let her go.
He took a step in front of her and pressed the door open farther, revealing a room in shambles. Bedclothes had been thrown to the floor, drawers in a chest pulled open with the contents hanging from the sides and tossed out, a trunk he recognized as the one Grace had at the depot all those weeks ago was open, and papers lay strewn across th
e room with . . . were those watercolors?
His eyes landed on a scrap of paper that didn’t match the rest. In fact, it looked as if it had been ripped from a book. It lay on the bed, atop linens that had been torn half off. He snatched it up, glancing past the printed words to letters that were scratched in pencil in the margin.
Keep silent.
“Oh my goodness,” a feminine voice said from the doorway.
“What happened?” another one asked.
Jasper glanced up from the mess to see several girls peering into the room. Mrs. Geary had taken Grace into her arms. He folded the paper and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll fetch the sheriff. Wait to clean up the room until he’s seen it.”
Grace looked at him from where Mrs. Geary held her, her eyes red-rimmed and her bottom lip trembling. He wanted to be the one to hold her, to tell her it would all be fine. It was such a powerful urge that he took a step back. “I’ll return as quickly as I can. Someone please ensure all the doors are locked.”
As he strode down the hall to the stairs, he heard one of the girls say, “What was Mr. Hill doing here?” He was certain to be the subject of gossip after this, but right now, he could hardly care less.
The man he’d chased after was the one who’d turned Grace’s room upside down, the one who’d left that threatening message. And he’d done it most likely because he couldn’t find the note he’d left in his shirt. If he expected Grace to remain silent about this . . . this . . . intolerable invasion of her privacy, the man did not know who he was up against.
Sheriff Young had already gone upstairs to his dinner, leaving another of his deputies, Harry Caldwell, manning the desk. Upon hearing Jasper’s explanation of the situation, Caldwell ran up to fetch Young. Jasper and the sheriff left the office together, Jasper sharing more about what he’d found, the man he’d run after, and the note along the way.
“I don’t like this,” Young said, pocketing the threatening note. “Whoever did this wants the secret kept. Only wish I knew whether it was something that’s already happened or something he’s planning. We have more than one unsolved robbery in this county.”
“I wish he’d target me,” Jasper said. “And leave Miss Daniels out of it.” Merely the thought of anyone intending Grace harm set him so far on edge, he had a hard time concentrating on anything else.
And then there was the guilt.
It sat there on the very edge of his thoughts, reminding him that she wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t run after her and offered her a job. Who did that sort of thing anyway? It was forward, and she should have turned him down. He should have controlled his emotions after seeing the way Trace had treated her. It was one thing to put the man in his place; it was quite another to chase after the woman he’d insulted. If he had remained in the shop with Molly, Grace might have boarded the next train back to Kentucky. Or at least gone south to live with her sister.
But she hadn’t, because of him. And now she feared for her safety, if not her life.
When they reached Mrs. Geary’s, the ladies were all congregated in the parlor, Grace in the middle of them with a cup of steaming tea and a shawl wrapped about her shoulders. But she stood, dropping the shawl and setting down the mug, to greet them.
“Sheriff,” she said, her voice strong, almost as if nothing had happened to her at all. “Thank you for coming.”
Young removed his hat and nodded. “Would you mind showing me to the room?”
Grace swept in front of them, ignoring Mrs. Geary’s protestation that Jasper could handle the situation. Jasper followed them, marveling at Grace’s fortitude. She had courage, that he knew from the way she’d handled the situation with Burcham. But that hadn’t threatened her safety.
After Young had examined the room to his satisfaction, he told them that he’d send someone by the boardinghouse frequently to ensure all was well, and then pressed Mrs. Geary to keep all the doors locked. Grace’s friends flocked about her, determined to put her room back to rights. They ushered her away, leaving Jasper alone in the parlor.
He took his leave, his mind full of everything from the plot detailed in the first note to the man he’d chased to Grace’s sweet smile to the nagging fear that he was the one who’d put her into this position. Whoever had threatened her had better hope Jasper didn’t find him first.
Chapter Seventeen
Grace’s nerves had settled by the next morning, and she found herself dallying over her hair in the morning, trying to make it fall in such a way to look the most flattering under the light blue hat she wore. When Jasper arrived to escort her to the store, she had just begun making her way down the stairs. He looked up at her and smiled so genuinely, she had to grip the banister as she stepped.
“Good morning, Miss Daniels,” he said as Mrs. Geary stood nearby, his hat in his hands.
“Good morning,” she replied, barely containing her happiness at seeing him.
After Mrs. Geary fussed over her and demanded Jasper keep her safe, Grace finally left on Jasper’s arm—at Mrs. Geary’s insistence. Grace was certain her face was as red as the morning sun, but if Jasper noticed, he was gentlemanly enough not to say a word.
His smile disappeared the moment they were outside. The muscles in his arm tensed and his gaze searched the few people who passed and the not-yet-open businesses around them.
“Is there something amiss?” she asked in a tentative voice.
He relaxed, but only a little, as he led her away from the boardinghouse. “Not that I can see. But . . .” He paused, looked at her, and then continued. “I only worry for your safety, and that of my family.”
Grace ducked her head as a speck of guilt tickled her insides. If she hadn’t found that note, they wouldn’t be in this situation. Mrs. Hill probably wouldn’t have seen it, and if she had, she wouldn’t have been so nosy as to open it and read it. She would have mended the shirt, the man would have gotten it and the note back, and all would have been well.
“I happily accept the worry,” Jasper said, drawing her attention upward again. He gave her a smile, and all sorts of possibilities floated through her mind. It wasn’t the first time she’d conjured up dreamlike images of Jasper, grinning at a cake she’d baked, laughing as they pulled vegetables from a small garden, playing with a little boy who looked just like him.
Could it be? She didn’t know. But the pesky daydreams wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice felt like warm molasses. They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, although Grace could feel his eyes on her now and then as she fought the urge to smile constantly.
All day long, Grace could hardly keep her mind on her work. She seemed to sense where Jasper was at all times, and more than once, she found him watching her, only to look quickly away when she caught him. The very idea that he might be thinking about her made it difficult to sew in a straight line, much less thread a needle.
“Grace, dear, are you feeling well?” Mrs. Hill asked when Grace nearly dropped the plate of beans and bread she held at lunch.
“I’m fine,” she replied, a little breathless. If she couldn’t get Jasper out of her head, she might find herself walking in front of a horse and wagon next.
“Leave her be, Mama,” Molly said from the table. “I’m certain she’s only worried about what happened at Mrs. Geary’s last night.” But when Mrs. Hill’s back was turned, Molly gave her a quizzical look.
Grace smiled and sat. “Yes, that’s all.” That worry did sit heavy on her mind, and truth be told, it was nice to have the thoughts of Jasper to distract her from it. It was hard to feel afraid when he was nearby.
Jasper arrived just as they were finishing. Molly fixed him a plate, and Grace offered to wash the dishes. When Molly and Mrs. Hill returned to the store, Grace found herself acutely aware that only she and Jasper were in the back room.
It wasn’t improper, she scolded herself, considering the door to the front of the store was wide open. Althoug
h with her constant thoughts about him, it should have been.
“Were you able to make Mr. Baker happy?” Grace asked, submerging the dishes in the tub of water she’d fetched.
“So long as he gets his order by next week, he’ll be happy,” Jasper said.
“He was awfully impatient.” The man had come storming into the store earlier, demanding all sorts of items after driving miles in from his ranch.
“And that’s why I charged him double.”
For the second time in less than an hour, Grace almost dropped a plate. “You did not. Jasper, that’s— that’s—”
“What he deserved?” Jasper raised an eyebrow as Grace stared at him in disbelief. Then his face crinkled into a grin, followed by a low chuckle.
“You fooled me!” She lightly snapped the dishcloth at him, but it was impossible to be mad at him for long, not with that infectious laugh. It was amazing how different he could be when he was entirely at ease. “I never pictured you being one for jokes.”
He pushed away his empty plate. “Tell that to Molly if you really want to hear laughter. I may have played one too many tricks on her when we were young.”
Grace tried to imagine him tormenting his little sister with bugs in her shoes or hiding all her hair ribbons. “It’s hard to reconcile that with the man I met at the depot. The one who looked so . . .”
“Are you calling me dour?” He stood, half a smile quirking his lips up on one side.
“No. Not at all. Only . . . intense, I suppose.”
“Intense?”
He was only a step away from her, and Grace found herself wishing he’d take that step and yet wondering what she might do if he did. She clutched the dishcloth between her hands.
“That’s funny, because I found you to be too cheerful.”