“But… may I have some time to consider it?”
His euphoric expression dampened. “Yes, of course.”
“Perhaps after everything is settled with the bank, we can discuss this more?”
“That sounds like a great idea, Miss Hurley.” He stood and put his hat back on. “Thank you for still considering me, even after I let you down and told you to leave.”
She smiled warmly. “It is quite all right. We all go through difficult times.”
The second the door closed behind him, she collapsed back into her seat, her head in her hands. Mr. Dunst still wanted to marry her. This was good news. She should have been thrilled. It was what she came to Wyoming for. With a husband, a farm, and a job teaching—assuming she still had time to—she would be set.
But still, the idea did not sit right with her. There’s was more to it, something that would not leave her mind. Or, rather, someone.
Chapter Twelve
12. Beau
Chapter twelve
The axe sliced through the wood, hitting the chopping block with a satisfying thud. Beau placed another piece of log on the block, stepped back, and swung the axe down with twice the needed strength.
He’d been chopping wood for almost an hour and he could go for several hours more. Anything to make him tired, because Frankenstein certainly wasn’t getting the job done.
All day long, Cadence had been on his mind. He’d let himself slip the night before, let himself start to care for her in ways he shouldn’t…
Falling in love with a girl was a mistake Beau just couldn’t afford to make—for him or her.
The house’s back door opened and Gemma came out, the fierce wind tossing her skirts about her legs. “Goodness! There’s enough wood out here to last the winter.”
“You’d be surprised how fast it goes during a really harsh one.”
Gemma collected an armful of logs and Beau helped by adding a couple small pieces to her stack.
“Come inside,” she said, turning sideways to look at him, as she couldn’t see straight on due to all the wood she carried. “Have some tea. It’s dreadful out here.”
“In a minute,” he answered, setting another log on the chopping block. After a few more good splits, he had exhausted himself enough to where he felt he could sit still for five or so minutes. After that, he’d be up and about again. Moving nonstop was the only thing that kept him sane.
Using his shirt to wipe sweat from his face, he snatched his jacket from the ground and went inside. In the back doorway, he stopped short. Gemma wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Cadence was there as well, peeling apples at the table. For a brief moment, her hands stilled when she saw him. But then, she looked down and got right back to work, red peelings flying from her knife and into the waiting bowl.
“Have a seat,” Gemma instructed, nodding at the table.
Beau slowly did so, taking the seat farthest away from Cadence. Gemma set a steaming mug of tea in front of him and he wrapped his hand around it. The warmth crept up his arm, but did not make it to his core, to the place where his soul was still cold and uncertain.
“If it’s going to snow, I just wish it would snow,” Gemma said, coating a skillet with butter.
“Soon enough,” Beau softly said.
The grating sound of the apples being peeled filled the room. Beau kept his gaze fixed on Gemma.
“Where is Clara?” he asked.
“She is resting for a bit. She was up so early this morning, I told her to go have a little lie down before supper. I’m perfectly capable of cooking it all on my own now,” she proudly said. “Well, with help from my wonderful assistant, that is.”
Now, Beau had to say something to Cadence. It would be even more uncomfortable if he did not. “What are the apples for?” he asked.
“Pies for breakfast,” she simply replied.
Beau nodded, sipping his tea. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I gave you an impression I shouldn’t have. It’s all my fault.
He’d seen it in her eyes last night and this morning. She cared for him. Just as he cared for her. That wrong foot they’d gotten off to was now old news. There was something deep between them, a connection that was good and true. But that didn’t mean it was theirs for the taking.
He searched for something appropriate to say, but failed. All he could think about was how much he had messed up. He wished he could turn back time and say and do all the right things from the get-go.
“Beau?” Gemma asked. “Can you fetch me some milk, please? There’s some in the ice cellar.”
“Course.”
Grateful for a reprieve from the stifling room, Beau went back out through the kitchen door and hustled to the ice cellar. Pulling out the glass jar full of milk, he headed back to the house—but stopped when he heard what Gemma was saying.
“Do you really think you will marry him?” she asked. He’d neglected to shut the door fully on his way out and the crack was letting her voice through.
Cadence sighed loudly. “I do not know. It does not seem as if I can turn the offer down.”
“Well, do you… like him?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I know, I know,” Gemma grumbled. “It would just be nice if you could marry a man you cared for. A man whom you perhaps even loved.”
A long moment passed. Beau’s pulse was beating hard in his throat, his fingers tightening around the cold milk bottle.
“Your marriage seems wonderful, Gemma,” Cadence said, “but I believe it is likely a one in a thousand chance. Women like me… we are lucky if men even say ‘hello’ to us on the street.”
Beau’s ears grew hot at the words. How could Cadence think she was so undesirable? The woman was a rarity, with beauty and personality that no one else in the world had. Any man at all would be lucky to have her.
“It all depends,” Cadence went on. “Who even knows if Mr. Dunst will be able to work things out with the bank? I shall just have to see.”
“Or you could wait longer. Just see if—”
“I do not think that would be wise,” Cadence gently interrupted.
Gemma sighed dramatically, then there was some banging around of pots and pans. Beau knew he’d been gone for too long. Doing his best to keep his face blank, he let himself back into the kitchen. Both women looked his way, but showed no signs they suspected he had been eavesdropping.
“Got the milk,” he stiffly said, placing it on the table.
“Thank you.” Gemma frowned. “Beau! You’re so pale.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. Do you have a fever?”
She reached out to touch his forehead, but he jerked back. “I need to go, um… do something before supper.”
Not waiting for a response, he left the kitchen. The wind beat against his face and howled in his ears the whole walk across the yard. Bubba joined him at the stable, taking his place at Beau’s heel and following him down to the cabins.
He kept himself calm the whole way, save for the curled fists at his sides. Not until he was inside his cabin, Bubba shut out, did he let a yell rip from his throat. A quick string of curses followed, each louder than the other.
He could blame no one for what was happening. Beau knew right then, without a doubt, that he cared for Cadence much more than he had allowed himself to admit.
But what did it matter? To pursue her would only bring them both pain. Beau had a way of messing things up. He always had. For many years, he had assumed he was cursed. The crime he had committed was too great, not one a person could simply atone for with a few prayers and hours put in helping neighbors.
No, Beau had real blood on his hands. Those memories were alive in his head, playing on repeat when he lay his head down at night. He was a true sinner.
Cadence deserved so much more than him.
He’d never had the chance to have her in the first place, but still, he needed to let her go...
Cadence Hurley. The second woman
he had ever loved. And hopefully, the last.
Chapter Thirteen
13. Cadence
Chapter thirteen
Cadence clutched the plate of food tightly in her hands as she walked carefully down the hill. Next to her, Nat lit the way with his lantern.
“Where is your cabin?” she asked.
“Right next to Beau’s.”
“Oh.” Perfect. “Can you, perhaps… walk me back up to the house after I leave this with him? I do not want to trip over anything in the dark.”
Without exception, the only time Cadence used the limp angle to her advantage was when she was attempting to hide her fear of the night.
“Sure thing. I’ll keep my door open and you can just holler when you need me.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Nat,” she gushed.
The ground evened out and they arrived at Beau’s cabin. Light shining through the small window showed that he was home.
Tossing her shoulders back, Cadence knocked.
She had not wanted to deliver the plate to him, but when Gemma asked her to, she very well could not say “no.” Neither expressing her terror of the dark nor her disappointment over Beau was an option. And so, she had located Nat and asked him to accompany her down the hill.
The door whipped open and Nat’s lantern lit up Beau’s face. The long shadows made him look eerie, strange, and monstrous. His eyes shifted between Nat and Gemma, taking them in, probably waiting for them to say something.
“Yes?” he finally asked when no one else had spoken.
Cadence lifted the plate in offering. “Since you missed supper, Gemma asked me to bring this down to you.”
Beau gave a stiff nod and took the plate. “Thank you.”
Cadence turned to speak to Nat, but he was already slipping into his own cabin, taking the precious light with him.
Terror seized Cadence’s heart and before she knew it, she was pushing past Beau and entering his cabin.
Beau shut the door behind her as she twisted her hands. Just a minute or two, then she would call for Nat.
At the moment, though, the very thought of sticking her head out into that black night made her feel she might keel over.
Beau set the plate on his table with a heavy thud. The one room was furnished simply, immaculate and clean.
Cadence worked her thick tongue around. “You have a comfortable home here.”
“It’s good enough,” he gruffly answered.
Cadence took in a long breath. “Beau. I do not wish to be here either, so if you could please go and call Nat for me, I will be out of your hair.”
Oh, how it hurt to say those words. She kept her chin raised, though, refusing to show just how much pain she was in.
Beau likely knew she was afraid of the dark, but she would make sure that was all he thought bothered her.
Beau ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh, making it stand straight up. “I have nothing against you, Cadence.”
“Thank you,” she faintly said.
When would he fetch Nat?
“Are you going to marry Dunst?”
“Excuse me?”
Quite suddenly, Beau began pacing, his hands on his hips, his head down. “I heard you and Gemma talking.”
“Oh.” Cadence looked down at her clasped hands, her heart fluttering in the base of her throat.
“Are you?”
“I… I do not know.” She swallowed and looked back at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested?”
Beau stopped pacing to rub his palm against his mouth. “Just curious.”
“You are simply curious?”
Their gazes briefly caught before he looked away.
“Beau, I must know. Do you desire a wife yourself?”
“No,” he sharply answered, back fully turned to her.
Cadence bit back a strangled cry. Why was he doing this? One moment, he appeared to be extraordinarily interested in her plans, and the next, he would not even look at her.
Beau sighed as he turned back around. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be rough.”
Cadence twisted her lips, not willing to accept such an easy apology. He had snapped at her more than once and she would not continue to put up with it.
She needed Nat. She needed to return to the main house.
Yet, she could not move her feet or tongue.
“You deserve a good husband,” Beau suddenly said. “Someone who can treat you well.”
“Do you know anyone who might fit that criteria?”
Beau’s eyes softened in the lamplight. An overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms filled Cadence, but she stayed where she was, made immobile by fear. Half of her life was spent that way.
Beau’s jaw clicked, his eyes sad and regretful. “It’s not me, Cadence.”
Her next inhale burned like fire. She tried to raise her chin even higher, to keep herself strong, but she could not throw her head back any farther. She had run out of space, run out of reserves.
“I never said it was you I wanted,” she snapped.
Real pain flashed across his eyes, followed by a look of steel. For a second, Cadence felt satisfied. Beau had hurt her, and so she had hurt him in return.
A breath later, though, and she regretted the callous statement. No matter what Beau had done or not done, she had come to believe he truly was a good man. She did not really want to bring pain to anyone—especially not him.
“I am sorry,” she rasped. “That was a cruel thing to say.”
Beau fiercely shook his head. “No. It’s all right.”
He blew out a thick breath, rubbing his palm against his eyes. “There is something between us. I won’t deny that.”
“Then what is the problem? Do you not want to marry ever?”
“It’s not that, Cadence. I’m not right for you.”
She knew what that meant. Hot shame filled her and she looked away. “I understand. Do not worry, Beau. I have been turned down before. I will live through it.”
“What? No!”
With two smooth steps, he was in front of her, his broad chest heaving up and down. “It’s not you, Cadence. There’s nothing wrong with you. Do you understand me?”
She could not look at him, her gaze tethered to the floorboards.
“Cadence.” Beau hooked his thumb under her chin and gently lifted it. The touch was much more tender than she would have expected from him and it sent chills through her body.
Their eyes connected and several breaths passed.
“It’s me,” Beau softly said. “I’d be no good for you.”
She felt her eyes narrow. “Why do you say that?”
Beau dropped his hand, taking away the sweetest touch she had ever felt.
“Is there another woman?” Cadence asked.
“No,” came his quick response.
“Then what is it, Beau? You are young. Strong. Caring. You are in possession of a dependable job. From where I stand, you appear to be the perfect candidate for a husband.”
Beau rubbed the back of his neck.
Now, he was the one not making eye contact. “It’s not that simple. You can list the good stuff all you like, but there’s more to me than meets the eye.”
Cadence absorbed that. She knew what he meant.
Secrets.
Beau held pain deep in his heart.
But so did she. So did so many people.
“Tell me.” She pressed her hand against his chest, surprising them both with her forwardness.
Beau glanced down at her hand, then up at her face. His grasp found her wrist and he held onto her as she touched him. Butterflies flitted in Cadence’s stomach.
Please, she silently begged. Let me in.
“Whatever burden you carry,” Cadence slowly said, “I can help you with.”
Beau shook his head. “It’s not about the burden. It’s about the man that I am. I don’t deserve you, Cadence. I’d only hurt you.”
“How do you know that
?”
“Because I hurt people. That’s what I do.”
He gently removed her hand from his chest. Agony lanced her, pushing a choked cry from her throat.
Her Wild Journey_Seeing Ranch series Page 8