Her Silent Burden (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book)

by Florence Linnington

“What else do you call this?”

  He swiftly reached forward and took her hand in his. “If you want to stay, Thea, despite all the wrongs I’ve done, all the messed up reactions I’ve had, then please. Do it. I’ll try to be better. I will.”

  “How?”

  Her hand was lifeless underneath his.

  “That drinking binge that you saw, I won’t be doing it again. And we didn’t expect this baby, but we’ll make the best of it. I promise we will.”

  Thea’s face dipped down so that he couldn’t see her eyes. “That’s not good enough,” she said, so softly he barely heard her.

  Wakefield’s hand felt clammy. He knew he should probably take it off of hers, but he didn’t want to. The chasm between them was wide enough as it was.

  Thea turned her face up, tears glowing in her eyes. “I want you to want this baby, Wakefield. Do you know what that means?”

  Every part of him burned. He nodded.

  “At the present moment,” she said, “even I cannot fully want it. Not when I have a husband who is so disappointed. Who tells me we will ‘make the best of things,’ as if a child were a curse. No, Wakefield. I cannot... I simply cannot...”

  She stood up, her hand slipping out from under his.

  “I need to restart supper,” she said, her face turned away.

  Wakefield stood. “I’ll make it.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Let me.”

  “Right then,” Thea answered. “Make it if you wish. I am not hungry, anyway.”

  Turning away from him, she went into the bedroom and firmly shut the door.

  Chapter 29

  shivers down her spine

  29. Thea

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Thea walked by herself to the next morning’s service. Wakefield had not been there when she woke up. Not that she had expected him to be.

  He had not come into the bedroom the night before, though she’d heard him moving about in the main room. Torn between wanting him to join her in their bedroom and wanting him to walk into the night and disappear forever, Thea spent most of her time in bed tossing and turning.

  She’d managed to choke down some bread at breakfast, but even that simple meal sat uneasily in her stomach.

  Rubbing her tired eyes, she picked up her skirt and carefully made her way down the road. The clearing the Sunday morning services were held at came into view. Thea did a quick scan of the crowd. Noah was there, but no Wakefield.

  “Good morning,” Noah said, coming up to Thea and taking off his hat. “He’s at the saloon.”

  Thea’s back straightened. “In what state?”

  “Uh, if you mean...”

  Thea gazed evenly back at him.

  “He’s not in a good mood,” Noah said, “but he’s, you know, sober.”

  Two men walked by, and Thea turned her face away from them. Noah had given her the answer she looked for, but she needed to be more careful having such a delicate conversation in public.

  “Thank you for letting me know, Noah.”

  He nodded, and Thea turned away, not wanting to see the sympathy on his face. At this point, she had half a mind to take Wakefield up on his offer and take the money from selling the saloon and move back to South Carolina.

  And yet she couldn’t. A big part of her still wanted to stay in the mountains, no matter how much being there hurt her.

  Because though life in Whiteridge had brought her grief, it had also brought her the greatest joy she’d ever known. She couldn’t easily forget that.

  But, goodness, she wished she could.

  Settling down on one of the long logs, she looked up at the blue sky. Since there was no full time reverend, elders in Whiteridge usually took turns speaking, reading from the Bible, and leading the group in singing hymnals.

  She’d almost stayed home to pray and read the bible on her own, but her interest in where Wakefield was had compelled her to leave. Once again, she almost wished she had no heart.

  If only she were cold-blooded, incapable of being swayed by the affections of a man, life would be so much easier.

  Clasping her hands together, Thea bowed her head and began to pray.

  Lord, Jenny suggested I pray as hard as I can, so that is what I am doing now. You know how much I love Wakefield. I do not want my faith in you to falter, God. I do not want to believe the world is evil and full of sadness. Wakefield and I found each other, and that means something. This baby’s arrival means something. Please help us.

  Unclasping her hands, she looked up as someone sat on the bench next to her. Jenny smiled brightly and squeezed Thea’s hand.

  “Hi,” Peter said from his mother’s other side. Next to him, Farrow looked over and delicately waved. It was the most interaction she had ever had with Thea, and, despite the dismal circumstances, it made Thea smile. “Good morning,” Thea answered. “How are you all?”

  “Well,” Jenny said, her gaze sweeping across Thea’s face. She was likely wondering how Thea was holding up.

  “Where is Mr. Mullins?” Thea asked before Jenny could question her.

  “He’s on his way,” Jenny answered. “The cow got off her tether and wandered off this morning, and he had to go fetch her.”

  “She was looking for berries!” Peter cried.

  “I do not blame here,” Thea smiled, her heart warming.

  Would her child be as boisterous and outgoing like Peter? Or shy and introspective like Farrow? Either way, Thea would love him or her.

  For the first time since discovering she was having a baby, Thea found herself incredibly excited. She had a life growing inside of her. A tiny little person! Someone who would be completely dependent on her.

  She could not let the little one down. The stakes had been raised, and Thea would do whatever she needed to ensure the two of them had a good life.

  So though she had no clue what tomorrow would bring, at least she knew she would meet its challenges. Satisfied with that, she turned and faced forward as Daniel Zimmerman began leading the group in a prayer.

  Throughout the service, Thea cast a few glances at the saloon. Eventually, though, she gave up. Wakefield was not coming out, and it was not her job to make him.

  At this point, she’d done all she could. The kind of help they needed only God could give.

  “Come have Sunday dinner with us,” Jenny said after the service ended. She seized Thea’s elbow and gave her a pleading look.

  Thea hesitated. The days when Wakefield worried about her simply walking up and down the road seemed long gone. They’d been usurped by other dramas. He hadn’t seemed to care about her walking to service by herself that morning, or about her spending nights alone in the cabin.

  “That would be wonderful,” Thea said. “Thank you.”

  “What about your husband?” Peter asked. “Is he coming?”

  Thea looked at Outpost over her shoulder. “I believe he is working all day, Peter. I will have someone tell him where I will be, though.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Turning on his heel, he sprinted toward the road. Farrow followed at a slower pace, and Jenny’s husband, Chandler, strolled behind the two of them.

  “How are you doing?” Jenny asked, looping her arm through Thea’s.

  “Everything is about the same, but I am trying to take your advice. If a moment is hard, I pray my way through it.”

  Jenny nodded. “I can’t think of anything better to do.”

  “I will figure it out, Jenny,” Thea said, mostly comforting herself with the words. “Whatever happens, I will do that.”

  “I know you will. You are growing rounder, you know.”

  Thea looked down at her belly and smiled. She’d put on weight everywhere, but most noticeably in her stomach.

  As they reached the end of the clearing, nausea struck.

  “Oh, no,” Thea moaned, stopping and pressing her palm to her mouth.

  “You feel ill?” Jenny asked.

  Thea nodded. “How long does this
last for?”

  “You should be coming to the end of it soon. Don’t worry.”

  “I think I...” Thea did not finish the sentence. Rushing away from the clearing, she vomited into the bushes.

  Heat filled her face as she straightened up and took in a deep breath. Being sick was awful enough as it was, but not having any privacy was far worse. Had anyone seen her?

  “You doing all right, Mrs. Briggs?”

  Goosebumps rose on Thea’s arms, and she looked over to find Mr. Vang standing under the shade of a nearby sapling. She had not spoken to him since the day of the fight in the saloon, but seeing him brought a prickling, uneasy feeling.

  There were some people Thea liked instantly, and there were others she did not. For the most part, her intuition on the matter had always been correct.

  “I am fine,” Thea told him, “Thank you for your concern.”

  He bowed his head in acknowledgment. She waited for him to walk away, but he made no move to. Thea glanced over her shoulder and found the Mullins standing in a circle, talking and waiting for her.

  “How is your husband doing?” Mr. Vang asked.

  “He is fine, thank you.”

  His lips twitched upward the slightest bit, but it was an undeniable smile. Thea gulped. Mr. Vang seemed like the type of man to play games. She did not know what was going on with him, but she did know he couldn’t be trusted.

  “Did he tell you about my offer to buy the saloon?”

  Thea licked her dry lips. Before she could answer, Mr. Vang went on.

  “It could be your chance to get out of here,” he said.

  “Perhaps, I like it here.” Thea’s words came out colder than she meant them to, but she decided not to backtrack and apologize.

  “You don’t like me.”

  The accusation shocked Thea. Yes, it was true, but she had not expected him to point it out.

  “I do not know you, Mr. Vang,” she answered coolly.

  “So, that’s a yes.”

  Thea stiffened, but she refused to be baited. “Thank you for your concern over my health. I am afraid I have people waiting for me. Have a good day.” “You, too.” He tipped his hat.

  Thea walked away, but though she left him there the shivers down her spine stayed with her the whole way to the Mullins.

  Chapter 30

  one drink was risky enough

  30. Wakefield

  Chapter thirty

  Outpost was stuffy. Really stuffy.

  Wakefield had opened all the back windows and the back door, but he held off on the front ones. It was Sunday, but if anyone were to stroll by and see the saloon’s doors or windows open, they might take it upon themselves to pop in and say hello.

  The business wasn’t open, and neither was Wakefield.

  He’d spent the whole morning scrubbing the walls and floor, doing whatever he could to keep his hands and head busy. Even with the front of the saloon closed off, he’d heard the singing coming from the clearing across the way.

  Maybe he’d imagined it, but he thought he could hear Thea’s voice through all the others. Strong and crystalline. That was every part of Thea.

  He scrubbed the sides of the bar harder, making sure to get every splash of liquor and drop of dirt he could find. Outpost would shine like new once he was done with it.

  The front door opening made him look up.

  Cursing under his breath, Wakefield dropped the cleaning rag.

  “I meant to lock that,” he told Vang.

  The man chuckled. “Too bad you didn’t.”

  Wakefield straightened up, his back aching from having spent so long bent over. “You have quite the habit of showing up out of the blue.”

  “Is there any place else to go around here?”

  Wakefield scoffed in spite of himself. The man had a point.

  Vang lifted his chin. “I saw your missus at the service. She’s not looking too well. She coming down with something?”

  Wakefield turned away and started collecting all the dirty rags. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh. Well, how about that?”

  Wakefield didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He probably should have told Vang to skedaddle, but after a morning spent alone, he didn’t half mind having someone to talk with. Someone who was probably as roughed up from life as he was.

  “Does that change anything?” Vang asked. His boots thudded against the floorboards.

  Wakefield sighed and leaned against the bar. “You asking about me selling the saloon again?”

  Vang scratched his whiskers. “You’re the one who brought it up, not me.”

  Wakefield snorted. Vang was wily. No doubt about it. Surprisingly, though, Wakefield didn’t hate him for it. The fellow was doing his best to get on in the world, same as anyone else.

  Heck, maybe Wakefield liked him even more due to his shortcomings. It was something Wakefield could relate to.

  “Where you from, Vang?”

  “I reckon I’ve been about everywhere a person can get on a horse.”

  “I thought you’d say something like that.”

  “What about you?” Vang asked.

  “Close to the same.”

  Vang chuckled and sat down at the bar. Wakefield didn’t stop him. He’d run out of things to clean, and it was getting harder to keep the thoughts and worries at bay.

  “This isn’t no place to have a family,” Wakefield said, shaking his head.

  “There are a few of them here.”

  “Yeah, and no school.”

  “There’s the wild. Who needs a school? Learning at home is as good as learning in some building built for it.”

  Wakefield made a disgruntled noise. He was complaining about things he’d hardly given thought to. The lack of a school in Whiteridge wasn’t a problem. Kids learned at home for the time being, and one day they would get a schoolteacher there.

  No, the real issue was the same, and all Wakefield was doing was skirting around it. Every time he thought about bringing a baby into the world, he thought about pain. Despair.

  Simply put, that’s the way it was for him.

  “I know it’s Sunday,” Vang said, “but I’d appreciate it an awful lot if you’d pour me a drink.”

  Wakefield smirked. “I’ll pour you one.”

  “You don’t think the Lord will hold it against you?”

  “I’ve got plenty more to atone for,” Wakefield said, turning to the liquor shelves. “I don’t think He’s worried about my pouring a man a glass of whiskey on the Sabbath.”

  Setting the tumbler in front of Vang, Wakefield fetched the little stool he kept stored behind the bar and settled down onto it. Craning his neck, he looked upstairs. Noah had stopped by briefly to tell him Thea was having Sunday dinner with the Mullins before vanishing once more, and Wakefield hadn’t heard a peep from him since.

  Noah had also let Wakefield know the two of them were invited to the Mullins, but Wakefield wasn’t in the right state of mind to face anyone. He’d figured Noah wouldn’t show up at Sunday dinner with another man’s wife and not the husband, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he’d gone after all.

  It looked like Wakefield was the only one not enjoying life. No surprise there.

  “Why so surly?” Vang asked after a bit, taking a slow sip of the whiskey. “You’ve got a kid on the way.”

  Wakefield folded his arms. “I know you’re probably not the best man to confide in, but I’m goin’ share something with you regardless.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I didn’t want a kid. Don’t want a kid.”

  Vang didn’t so much as blink. “That sounds reasonable to me. Little ankle biters, that’s what they are. But they’re labor. And you won’t have to deal with them much, other than when they need a man’s firm hand. The wife will take care of most of the child-rearing.”

  Wakefield looked down and nodded, not willing to go on. He couldn’t tell anyone the real reason he didn’t want children. Only Noah knew about
that, and he was one person too many.

  “But something tells me there’s more to it than what you’re saying,” Vang finished.