Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. She backed away, bumping against the stove. “Wh-what?”
He advanced toward her with relentless determination. Fear warred with her disappointment. She’d thought he was different. He stepped closer. She flung up her arms to cover her face.
He grasped her arm and tugged her sleeve until he revealed the arrowhead scar on her arm. “There’s no way this was an accident. I can tell by the placement. Who did this to you?”
Elizabeth reached to cover the mark, but he brushed her hand aside.
She ran the tip of her tongue over her parched lips. “None of your business.”
He angled his head, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You cower away from me like a whipped dog. I’ve never hurt you, not once. Someone did this on purpose.”
She shook her head, tears of shame welling in her eyes.
“Why?”
The question felt more like an apology, and she couldn’t bare the pity in his voice. “It wasn’t his fault. Will was usually quite kind. He’d come home from his job tired and hurt. He’d been drinking. He wasn’t the same.”
“Did that happen often?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’m not a fool, Elizabeth.”
She twisted away. “None of this is your concern.”
“Elizabeth.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, the sensation heavy and comforting. “You can’t hide out here forever. You’re trapped by your own fears.”
The warmth of his hand steadied her. “Don’t be silly. Living out here all alone is more frightening than anything I’ve ever done before.” She bit out a humorless laugh.
“You’re afraid of yourself. Afraid of getting close to people.”
“Now you’re being foolish.”
He brushed his thumb against the bare skin of her neck. Elizabeth shivered.
“It’s not just the things that happen to us that keep us awake at night,” Jack said. “It’s the part we played in our own mistakes. I’ve rescued people over the years, and you know what haunts them? They can’t let go of their own infallibility. They obsess over every detail, every perceived mistake. They can’t let go of the past, asking themselves why they didn’t trust their instincts, retracing their actions, questioning their decisions. You have to stop blaming yourself.”
Her throat tightened. “I don’t blame myself.”
“You’re lying.”
Her eyes burned, but she ruthlessly blinked away the tears. She’d traveled to Kansas full of foolish dreams and false hopes. At some point during the journey, she’d stopped living in the present and pinned all her hopes on the future. Everything will be different when… How many times had she repeated those words? Even now, she was trapped in her dreams of the future. Everything will be different in the spring. Everything will be different when the snow clears. Everything will be different when…
She tipped her head to the side, pressing her cheek against Jack’s knuckles.
“Look at me,” he pleaded.
Though her heart ached, she lifted her head and shrugged off his hand. This growing dependency on Jack had to stop. He was leaving. Soon. The more she came to rely on his help, the more she came to crave his touch, the harder their parting would be. To Jack, she was simply an obstacle to his case. For her, he’d come to mean a great deal more.
Busying herself at the stove, she wiped down the cast-iron surface, carefully arranging her pots and utensils for supper. “I need to check on the baby. Jo sewed the most atrocious rag doll, but Rachel just adores the horrible thing… .”
She didn’t resist when he pulled her into his arms. He was warm and strong, a balm to her aching heart.
“Tell me about him.”
“I’d rather not,” she spoke, her words muffled in the smooth leather of his black vest. “Living in the past is a dull and lonely business.”
He set her back, his hands still clasping her shoulders. The distance separating them felt like an ever widening chasm.
His hand glided through her hair. “‘Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.’”
She inhaled the scent of wood fire on his shirt, pungent, familiar and comforting.
He sighed. “Sometimes the only way to bury the past is to pull it out into the open first.”
The baby whimpered.
Relieved to focus her attention on something else, Elizabeth turned away to pick up Rachel and hug her close. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Maybe it’s the best idea.”
She gently bounced the baby on her shoulder. “I’ll think about it.”
Will was the father of her child. Her husband. She’d cared for him once. Gossiping about him to a stranger felt like a betrayal of his memory—a betrayal of her daughter.
She pressed Rachel into the hollow of her neck. The baby cooed and rooted at her cheek. The infant’s trust, the unabashed joy she showed at even the simplest activities lent Elizabeth courage. Perhaps she had been too hard on herself.
Living in the past might be a dull and lonely business, but wallowing in the present was no better. Maybe she should take up Jack on his offer and purge herself of all the bitter memories. Maybe then she could concentrate on the good times she’d shared with her late husband. He was her past, and it was time to concentrate on the future.
* * *
Jack regretted asking her to share this glimpse into her past, even while he hungered for knowledge about her life. To his surprise, she’d offered only a token resistance before she’d started talking. Though his heart ached, he forced himself to listen. After all, he’d asked for this—begged her to tell him about her past.
He didn’t dare question his need to understand what her life had been like, how she had arrived on this Kansas homestead. Even the tiniest details haunted him. He woke up each morning with her image crowding his thoughts. The way her hair curled around the temples, the way she chewed on a thumbnail when she was nervous.
Watching her care for Rachel enchanted him. Mother and daughter shared a special bond, a secret communication that intrigued him. There was even a familiarity in the way they smiled.
He’d put off taking the steel box and its curious mix of watches and rings into town because he wanted to avoid the truth. He’d stayed one more day just to catch a glimpse of the widow smiling.
She wasn’t smiling now, and he was the cause of her somber mood. She kept her back turned while she worked at the stove. “I told you before about how my father opened a bakery in New York. He had difficulty supporting us after the shop burned down. We moved several times, but the work was never steady. Then one day he didn’t come home. We waited for days. He’d never done anything like that before. Some fisherman discovered his body in the river.”
Jack yearned to comfort her, but she kept her back turned, scrubbing at the black cast-iron surface of the stove as if she might rub away the memories, as well.
“My mother wasn’t well. She’d taken ill on the ship from England, and I don’t think she ever fully recovered. The conditions on board were foul. People died every day. We considered ourselves lucky to have survived the trip at all. Anyway, after my father died, she grew worse.” Elizabeth paused, he studied her profile, her bleak expression. “I tried to hide her illness from the other tenants in the building, I tried to take care of her myself, but one day the nuns from the orphanage showed up and took me away.”
Her revelations gave him insight into her character. She’d fought to care for her mother alone, just as she fought to remain on the homestead, alone. She considered self-sufficiency a virtue.
“Did you ever see your mother again?”
“Once.” Elizabeth swiped at her nose with a sniffle.
“She was very ill. She asked me to forgive her for letting them take me to that awful place.”
Bitter resentment laced her words.
“You can’t blame yourself for something that happened when you were a child.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I was so angry, I refused to forgive her. She died before I could tell her I was sorry.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’m an awful person and God has punished me for it.”
Jack leaped out of his chair and crossed the distance in two steps. He turned her to face him and clasped her shoulders. The anguish in her pale blue eyes humbled him. Without a second thought, he cradled her in his embrace.
Watching her suffer unleashed a fierce protective instinct within him. “God loves you. The Lord doesn’t punish people, Elizabeth.”
She sobbed into his vest. “You’re wrong. He does. He took away my mother. He took away Will.”
Her late husband didn’t sound like much of a loss, but Jack held his tongue. “That’s not the way it works.”
She strained away, not quite meeting his eyes. “Will was handsome and charming. I’d never had anyone notice me before. I was overwhelmed by the attention. And he never seemed to want for money. I liked that he bought me things. It had been so long since I’d had anything nice. He made me feel special. Like I mattered to someone.”
The walls closed in around Jack. His lungs hurt from the effort to breathe. “You’re loving and kind. You’re a hard worker. I can see why he wanted to marry you.”
She snorted softly. “It was a whirlwind courtship. I worked for a baker and he didn’t like Will hanging around the shop all the time. He gave me the sack. I didn’t have any place else to go. Will took me to the courthouse that morning and we were married. A few hours later we were on a Pullman car headed West. Everything happened so fast, I didn’t have time to consider what I was doing, or where I was going.”
Jack forced himself to think like a Ranger instead of an infatuated fool. She was vulnerable, but she was also part of his case. The more she revealed about her late husband, the more convinced he became of the man’s guilt. “Why did Will risk his life the night he died? The sheriff said the creek bed had almost washed out.”
“He was leaving me.” Her chin tilted up a notch. “I’d told him about the baby the day before. He was angry. He didn’t want the responsibility of children.”
Jack seethed with impotent rage. The source of his fury was beyond justice, beyond vengeance. “Yet he married you, brought you all the way to Kansas and bought this homestead. What did he think was going to happen?”
“I think he wanted to do a lot of things, he just didn’t have the courage to see them through. I was like a toy to him.” Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “Will bored easily with toys. He was bored with me almost from the beginning.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. The sin lies with your husband. He took a vow to stay with you, and he broke his promise to God. What happened up on that creek bed was an accident.”
“It’s just that every time I pray, things seem to turn out wrong. I prayed for a husband, and God sent me Will. I prayed for a child, and my husband deserted me rather than care for his growing family. I prayed for Will’s return, and God sent me his body to bury.” She ducked her head. “I’m afraid to pray any more. For anything.”
Jack tucked his knuckles beneath Elizabeth’s chin and gently forced her to look at him. Tears swam in her eyes, darkening the pale blue color. “The Lord knows what’s in your heart.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered. “I’m not pure of heart.”
“No one is. We can’t change the past, but we can make a better future. It’s where you’re going in your faith that counts, not where you’ve been.”
Jack should know that better than anyone. He’d spent his entire life searching for justice, but evil still walked the earth.
She pressed closer. Voices sounded outside, indicating the return of the McCoy boys. Jack made a sound of frustration in his throat. He and the widow had unfinished business, and he was determined to settle things before he left. With the homestead overrun by McCoy boys, finding a quiet moment was going to be difficult.
At the sound of footsteps nearing the house, she pulled away from him. “Thank you, for everything. I’m all right now.”
She swiped at her eyes.
“We can finish this conversation later.”
“There’s no need. I’m perfectly fine.”
Any fool could see she was lying.
Jack was no fool.
* * *
Jack hated being right sometimes. He kicked another stump into place. The McCoys, sensing his dark mood, were giving him a wide berth. They were helping their father build a new ladder for the loft.
He touched his cheek where Elizabeth had brushed her thumb against his skin. He’d been mule-kicked all right.
Ely McCoy was correct. Elizabeth needed to be protected. She needed to marry a nice man who wanted a family. Jack recalled all the bachelors in town who had offered for her hand. No wonder she’d been reluctant to accept a proposal after her husband’s death. She probably feared a repeat of her first marriage.
Doc Johnsen was a good choice for a husband. He held a respected job. He was handsome and intelligent, everything Elizabeth could ask for in a man. Yet she’d refused his offer of marriage once before. No doubt she was gun-shy after her first experience. Perhaps if she moved to town and they courted properly, she’d change her mind.
Jack forced himself to imagine the two of them together, the widow and Doc Johnsen. Elizabeth deserved better than a rat like Will Cole. How much more was there? How much had she left out about her life?
At least the doc worked around Cimarron Springs. He wouldn’t be traipsing all over the country, leaving her alone for weeks at time.
Jack swung the ax. The thought of Elizabeth married to another man tore at his insides. He swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. What other choice did he have? He’d told Ely the truth. He wasn’t husband material. If Jack wasn’t going to care for her, Doc Johnsen was a good choice. She was too beautiful, too fragile beneath her bravado to be left all alone. And Rachel needed a father. Someone to dandle her on his knee and shoo the boys away when she grew older.
The next crack of the ax split the three-foot stump clean in half.
“You okay, Ranger?” Ely spoke from behind him.
“Swell.”
Jack resumed his attack on the hapless stump.
“I can’t wait to get home to the missus,” Ely spoke loud enough to be heard over Jack’s steady thwack-thwack-thwack. “I’m telling you. When I was younger, I never once thought about settling down. Then I saw Mrs. McCoy in the mercantile. She was picking out a pair of white cotton gloves.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Does this story have a point?”
“Sometimes I get stuck on a goal. And when I can’t achieve that goal, I start to thinking that there’s no way out.” Ely tugged a fragile white cotton glove from his pocket. “I look at this, and I know nothing else matters.”
Jack turned his back on Ely’s somber gaze.
He was doing the right thing. He always did the right thing. “There’s a pile of brush over by the creek bed. If we clear it out today, the widow will have enough kindling for the rest of the winter.”
“Takes more than a fire to keep a body warm some days.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“I hope you do.” Ely sighed. “You can’t punish a dead man, and you’re not going to get another chance to make this right.”
Jack thought of Bud Shaw. With Will Cole dead, Elizabeth was his only chance at discovering the truth. “I ran out of chances a long time ago.”
Chapte
r Fourteen
“Jo.” Elizabeth glanced up from settling the last loaf of bread dough in a pan to rise. “Can I get your help in the bunkhouse before you leave?”
“I don’t know if we’re ever going to leave now,” Jo replied. “Pa and Mr. Elder are down by the creek bed pulling up a stack of brush for firewood.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Will started that project last spring. He piled a mountain of brush in one spot, and then lost interest. I don’t ever recall seeing him work so hard.”
“Musta been hard on those girly hands of his.”
“JoBeth McCoy!”
The girl stuck out her tongue. “Don’t you go scolding me. That man wasn’t good for anything but telling tall tales and keeping the saloon in business. I’m glad he’s gone.”
Elizabeth pressed the heels of her hands to her ears. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
She didn’t want permission to think ill of Rachel’s father. She’d made her own peace, hadn’t she? The sound of his name barely stirred feelings of regret in her chest. Yet she worried the sins of the father might rest on Rachel’s tiny shoulders. The baby was innocent of Will’s wrongdoing, and speaking ill of the dead wasn’t going to solve anything.
Jo’s smile faded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Mrs. Cole. You said we were going to the bunkhouse?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been emotional ever since the baby was born. I hope I never have to cry over something real, because I’ve used up all my tears.” Elizabeth concentrated on draping towels over the rising dough. “Mr. Elder was searching for bank robbers when he arrived here. I’ve read all the newspaper accounts, and I keep feeling like there’s something I’m missing. He’s got his clippings tacked to the bunkhouse wall. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can figure out what’s bothering me.”
Jo passed Elizabeth a wet rag. “I’m not sure if I can help, but it’s better than keeping the boys out of mischief all afternoon.”
Winning the Widow's Heart Page 19