Swallowing, he set the lantern on the table. “It’s late already, so I’ll get supper on. I have to tell you now, I’m not much of a cook—”
“I’ll make supper.”
“No. You’ve been traveling.”
“And I feel refreshed from finally arriving at my destination.” Thea faced him straight on, and she wore such a look of earnestness and joy that he couldn’t say no.
He’d probably never be able to say no to her.
“Shouldn’t you rest a bit first?” he asked.
She rubbed her palms together. “Later.”
“All right.” He grudgingly nodded. “I’ll put your bag away.”
As Thea looked around the main area, he set her bag in the second room. It was even more barren than the great room, with a rough-hewn bed frame, mattress stuffed with straw, and a wash basin sitting on a stump. Nothing fancy at all.
He hoped Thea understood that he’d been too busy running the saloon to dress up the place. Anything she wanted to add, though, she could. He wanted this cabin to be her dream home.
Back in the front room, he found her with her sleeves rolled up, in the middle of repinning her hair. Just in time, he stopped himself from asking her to keep it as it was.
As he stood there watching her, she dropped her hands from her hair and pressed her hands against her dress. The lantern was still casting the softest glow on her arms and face, showing off every soft and delicate part of her. She was so small. He could likely pick her up and toss her over his shoulder with hardly any effort at all.
“My apron,” she said.
“Hmm?”
The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement, and Wakefield’s face flamed. Did she know what he’d been thinking? How could she?
“I need my apron,” Thea said.
She went to go into the bedroom at the same time he did, and they ended up stuck together in the doorway.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“Pardon me.”
Neither one of them moved. They stayed right where they were, Thea gazing up at Wakefield, no more than a few inches of space between them. He could barely see her eyes but felt the pressure of her gaze on his face. Again, his hands ached to reach out and touch her.
He didn’t want to scare her, though. She needed to settle in, get used to him. No sense in acting like a barbarian the first night. That would only drive such a delicate creature away.
“I’ll just...” She scooted sideways and went to her bag.
The spell broken, Wakefield ran his hand over his face. What was happening to him? Each time he looked at Thea, time slowed down. Everything else ceased to exist, and all he could think about was what she might feel and taste like.
Tying her apron around her waist, she returned to the main room. “I took a quick stock of food, and I can whip something up within an hour. It won’t be anything fancy.”
“It has to be better than the bachelor fare I’ve been cooking.”
She smiled at that. “I suppose we will see.” Her eyes strayed to the cook stove. “And the wood?”
“Right on the side of the house. I’ll get some.”
Hopping to, he fetched an armful of wood, making sure to bring in extra, and started a fire in the cook stove. The door was propped open with a rock, allowing in the evening’s gentle breeze. Already, the cabin felt more like a home.
As he stood back from the cook stove, though, Wakefield remembered Noah alone down at the saloon. He really ought to check in on the situation there.
But leaving Thea all alone on the mountainside still didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t matter that Outpost was only a few minutes’ walk away.
“What is the matter?” she asked, holding her palm near the cook stove to gauge its heat.
“I should go check in on the saloon.” Wakefield ground his jaw. “But I can’t leave you here alone.”
“Of course you can. I will be perfectly all right.”
Wakefield looked around the room. Everything was in order, and nothing sounded amiss outside of the cabin. There were the occasional snapping of branches and the hooting of an owl, and that was all.
“You know how to shoot a rifle?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded at where his rifle hung on hooks above the door. “Just in case. Don’t worry, though.”
“I am not worried.”
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, walking backward for the door.
“I will be fine. Take your time.”
Wakefield knew he wouldn’t.
Chapter 9
strange and wild
9. Thea
Chapter nine
Thea stood in the middle of her new home, looking all around, taking a moment to take it all in. Wakefield’s footsteps had disappeared down the road a minute ago, and the trepidation she’d been expecting to set in still hadn’t.
With the lantern, she went outside and found the garden. It was off to the side of the house, surrounded by a crude fence made mostly from branches and what appeared to be discarded logs no good for building with. Wakefield had not been exaggerating when he said there wasn’t much there to use.
Still, the few vegetables he did have would be good for making a stew. Digging up and breaking off what she needed, she piled the potatoes and summer squash in her apron. Taking the lantern up once more, she walked the back way around the house, intending to inspect its entirety.
There was no stable—a real oddity. Presumably, Wakefield kept the horses in the one behind the saloon. Indeed, Thea had already gotten the impression that he spent much more time there than he did at the cabin.
The place was not very homey at all, but no matter. She would soon have it fixed up nice. It had a good amount of windows. All it needed was some color.
Humming to herself, she went into the main room and began preparing the stew. Her heart skipped a beat. Wyoming! She had finally made it.
Arriving in front of Wakefield, taking in the man who was her future, all her worries had dissipated. This was where she was meant to be. She could feel that truth now, as it seeped into her bones and lightened her spirit.
With the veggies chopped, Thea piled them into the deep-dish cast iron pan. She’d managed to make a broth with the seasonings in the cupboard, but she wished she’d had a cut of meat. Bread, too, would be nice. She’d have to bake some of that soon. Likely, it had been a while since Wakefield had had freshly baked bread. Not unless one of the housewives in the area had brought him some.
The thought of cooking and baking for him made her smile. Were there any berries in the mountains? She’d perfected her blackberry pie years ago, and not one mouth that had tasted it had ever been disappointed.
Thea stirred the stew, brimming with pleasure. She’d never been one for showing off, but she couldn’t wait to impress Wakefield with her pie.
As there was a store in town, surely there had to be sugar. But what about butter? With no cow, where would she get butter?
Her thoughts were spinning so fast she didn’t hear the footsteps until they were in the cabin. Whirling around from the cook stove, she found Wakefield standing there.
He towered over her, a giant of a man. But she found comfort not fright in his size.
“Something smells delicious,” he said.
“Stew. I hope that is all right.”
Wakefield laughed. “It’s better than I usually have. Noah and I often end up eating the same thing for days.”
He came over to the cook stove and peered into the pan. All of Thea’s skin tingled to have him so close. She didn’t know what to do with herself. How was she to act normally when his mere presence had her feeling so giddy?
He left her to go and wash off at the basin in the corner which had her feeling relieved. Tossing a dash of salt into the stew, she looked over at where he had settled at the table, legs stretched out. It was a shame they only had the lantern to light the room; Thea wanted to see his eyes so badly.
�
��Was everything all right at the saloon?” she asked.
“Just fine.” He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I’m impressed you managed to whip up a full meal out of the measly ingredients here.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call this a full meal… The garden had what I needed, though,” she added, not wanting to sound critical. “It is ready.”
Wakefield stood. “Let me help.”
“No, I have it.” She smiled, though she didn’t know how much of her face he could see from all the way across the dimly-lit room.
She’d already done a quick survey of the kitchen and knew exactly where everything was located. Taking spoons and two bowls from the shelf, she ladled the stew and brought the bowls to the table.
“Thank you,” Wakefield rumbled as she set his bowl in front of him.
Thea’s heart danced a jig. “You are welcome.”
Taking a seat in the only other chair, she lightly rested her wrists on the table.
“Well,” Wakefield said, “here we are.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It almost does not seem real.”
“And yet it is,” he said, his voice the lowest she had heard it. Again, little shivers went all through Thea.
“Grace?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nearly shouted. On the train, she’d worried a bit about whether or not he would be of strong faith and had told herself that it would be fine either way. She had more than enough love for God in her heart.
It would just be nice to have a husband to share some of that with.
Wakefield clasped his hands and bowed his head, and Thea followed suit.
“Heavenly Father,” his strong voice boomed. “Bless this meal. Thank you for bringing Thea and me into each other’s lives. Amen.”
It was a simple prayer, but it said all that was needed. Lifting her head, Thea watched Wakefield as he tasted the stew.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “This is near perfect.”
“You do not have to say that.”
“I’m telling the truth. It is.”
Pleasure filled Thea, and she took her own first taste of the meal. It was a decent enough stew. She’d make him an even better one next time.
“If this is the way you always cook, I’m going to be spoiled in no time at all,” he said.
Thea giggled. “I made due.”
“I’ll walk you down to the general store tomorrow so you can stock up the cupboard.”
“That sounds nice.”
It was odd that the thought of a simple walk with him down to the store brought Thea so much pleasure, but it did. She couldn’t wait to explore her new home with Wakefield by her side.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“Now that I am sitting down, yes.”
“I will clean up after supper.”
Thea opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it.
“No arguments,” Wakefield said. “You will be my wife. It’s my job to take care of you.”
Thea closed her jaw. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling.
They ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the stew and the breeze coming in through the open door. July in the mountains was much more temperate than in South Carolina, and she looked forward to falling asleep with some cool air wafting through the window.
“I feel I should say something...” Wakefield trailed off, and Thea put her spoon down to look at him.
“Yes?” Her heart thudded over his serious tone.
“I am sorry about your late husband.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.”
More silence passed. Thea felt as if she were keeping some gigantic secret from Wakefield by not telling him the truth about Jeb, and that made her uneasy. She did not want to start their life together by withholding information.
“I am grateful for everything Jeb did for me,” she said, “but I feel that he is better off where he is now. For God can deal with him as He sees fit.”
Wakefield said nothing but looked at her thoughtfully. Thea looked fearfully in his direction. She had no clue how to tell him exactly what had happened in her previous marriage. Perhaps Wakefield was of the mind that a wife should be obedient no matter what—including to her husband’s abuses.
What if she told him about Jeb’s actions and he laughed? Or, worse, like Jeb, took it upon himself to use the back of his hand as a means to keep her in line?
For the first time since setting eyes on Wakefield Briggs, real fear struck Thea’s heart.
“What did he do?” Wakefield softly asked. He sat still as a statue, and the room was so quiet you could have heard a moth flutter through it.
A lump formed in Thea’s throat. She swallowed it back, glad for the poor lighting. She did not want Wakefield to see the pain that surely showed in her eyes.
“He was quite a rough man,” she answered. She pressed her lips together before a cry could escape.
Wakefield inhaled long and slow, his broad shoulders rising nearly to his ears. “He hurt you?”
“Sometimes,” Thea said in a small voice. “Yes.”
Wakefield made a noise of discontent. “The coward.”
Thea felt her eyebrows fly up.
“I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Wakefield said, “But any man who puts their hands on a woman is a coward.”
Thea’s heart swelled. “We were not married long, so at least there is that.”
“I will never do to you what he did.”
The intensity in his voice made Thea freeze. As she sat unmoving, Wakefield placed his hand gently on top of hers. Thea sucked in a breath, each inch of her body jumping awake.
“I promise,” Wakefield said.
Thea nodded. “I believe you.”
And she did. He could not speak with such passion and simultaneously tell a lie.
“Now there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have mentioned in my letter, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“What is it?” Thea asked. His hand was still on hers, and she silently prayed it stayed there. Even a few more seconds of his touch would be magnificent.
“I was married, too. Years ago.”
“You were?”
She didn’t know how she felt about the news. Was it insane to be jealous of a woman she’d never met?
“In Cheyenne.” Wakefield cleared his throat. Without warning, his hand was gone from hers. The spot where he’d been touching her screamed out for him to come back.
“Oh,” Thea managed.
“I lived there for some years. Grew up outside of Baltimore. Anyway, I ended up in Cheyenne, where I opened a saloon.”
“Noah told me that part. He said he worked there with you.”
Why was he giving Thea his full life story? Was he trying to postpone the part where he married another woman?
“What happened?” Thea whispered.
“She...” Wakefield turned his face away. “It didn’t work out. The marriage ended.”
“Oh,” Thea said yet again, her ears ringing. She’d never known anyone who had gotten divorced.
Wakefield’s face snapped back toward her. “But that was years ago.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
A wife. Divorce. Cheyenne. For a while, Thea had managed to forget she had traveled across the United States to marry a veritable stranger. Now she remembered she really knew next to nothing about the man sitting across from her.
“Thea?”
“Y—yes?”
“Does this change things?”
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking about her answer, wanting to be as honest as possible.
“No,” she replied. “I should understand better than anyone that not all marriages are the best. Not everyone is suitable as a husband or wife. If my husband had not met his demise and divorce had been an option, I might have taken it myself.”
“What happened to him?”
“A loggi
ng accident.”
“Hmm.” Wakefield bowed his head, falling into silence.
“The past is the past,” Thea said. “And now here we are.”
Her Silent Burden (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book) Page 6