by Ford, Linda
“Afternoon, Prescott. Rachel.”
Jimmy Scruggs and his wife, Bea, stood awkwardly regarding them. In their mid-fifties, the couple owned land next to Cole’s parents’. She and Cole had gone to school with their two girls, who’d both married and moved away.
Cole stiffly inclined his head. “Mr. and Mrs. Scruggs, I’m afraid now isn’t the best time to talk. Another day, perhaps?”
When he made to move around them, Jimmy moved to block his retreat. Cole tensed. Fear shot through Rachel.
“Wait! I’m not here to cause trouble.” He held up his hand. “I, uh, just wanted to apologize. What the preacher said today, well, it made sense. I shouldn’t have judged you. You aren’t responsible for your pa’s actions, and we were wrong to ostracize you and your ma. I know it won’t undo the past, but we’d like to ask your forgiveness.”
Rachel’s jaw dropped. Cole had gone stock-still, his brow furrowed in disbelief. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting...of course, apology accepted.”
“I’m certain we’re not the only ones who feel this way,” Bea interjected, her gaze moving over Abby and Rachel. “It will take time for folks to admit it, but we’re glad you’re home. Families should stay together.”
Beneath her fingers, Cole’s biceps bunched. “Thank you.”
“If there’s anything you need, just let us know. You have our support.”
She and Cole watched silently as they walked away. “Did that really just happen?” he said at last.
“I’m having a hard time digesting it, too.”
“This is a good thing, right?” He looked like a lost little boy then.
“A very good thing.” She smiled gently. “You just need time to absorb it.”
“You’re right.” He caressed Abby’s head and frowned.
“What is it?”
Pressing his palm against her tiny cheek, his mouth turned down. “She feels warmer than usual.”
“Let me feel.” She replaced his hand with her own. Abby’s skin was dry and hot, her cheeks pink. Unease sifted through her. “She may have a fever. Let’s get her home.”
Eyes dark with worry, he reluctantly relinquished her so he could guide the team. Rachel held her close and prayed this was nothing serious.
* * *
Seated on the stone hearth that evening, Cole’s gaze tracked Rachel as she circled the room with an unhappy baby in her arms. His wife’s expression worried him. She was trying so hard to be upbeat, to mask her concern, but her eyes told a different story. He may not have much experience with infants, but he did know they were extremely vulnerable at this age.
Abigail’s whimpers made his chest seize up, made it difficult to breathe. He hated feeling helpless. His sweet little girl was hurting, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
Pushing to his feet, he intercepted her. “Why don’t you rest for a little while? Let me take her.”
Her brows pulled together. “I’m fine.”
With his fingertip, he traced the delicate shadows beneath her eyes. “You need to keep up your strength, sweet pea. At least go eat dinner. You’re still eating for two, remember.”
Her lashes swept down as her face flushed bright. He was her husband, yes, but his time away had erased all sense of familiarity between them. Would she ever be comfortable around him again?
“You’ve been on your feet most of the day,” he went on. “It won’t hurt to take a break.”
“You’ve been walking her almost as much as I,” she pointed out, even as she passed Abigail to him.
“I’m glad I’m here to help.”
“Me, too,” she whispered. She opened her mouth then shut it.
“What?”
“Will you stay tonight? This is the first time she’s been sick, and I’d rather not be alone.”
Cole searched her features. This was strictly for Abigail’s sake, he knew, but he couldn’t help but be pleased. The fact that she needed him didn’t frighten him as it once had. He wanted to be here for her, to support and comfort her. Did this mean she was beginning to trust him?
“I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”
“For Abby.”
Now was not the time to argue the point. Abigail demanded his attention. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he murmured soothing, nonsensical words. While he walked, Rachel ate and, instead of resting as he’d suggested, pulled out her sewing basket and the costumes she was still working on. An hour later, his legs demanded a rest, but the moment he eased down into the rocking chair, Abby set up a wail.
In the glow of the firelight, he glimpsed a swollen red spot on her lower gum. Peering closer, he gently rubbed the spot and she immediately bit down on his finger. Hard.
“Ouch.”
Rachel put aside her material. “What is it?”
“I think she’s cutting a tooth.”
Coming to stand beside his chair, she bent down to get a closer look. “You’re right. That would explain her fussiness the last few days, especially when nursing.”
“Could it be the cause of her fever?”
“Maybe. So far, she hasn’t had any other symptoms.”
Smiling at Abby, who was going to town on his finger, he said, “Don’t worry, little one, as soon as that tooth breaks through, you’re gonna feel a lot better.”
Rachel yawned for the second time in five minutes. Glancing past her to the mantel clock, he rose. “It’s after midnight. I’m gonna see if I can get her to sleep. No more sewing. Have a seat and rest your eyes.”
Looking slightly less worried, she nodded, shoulders drooping with fatigue. Abigail was exhausted, too. Within minutes, her eyes drifted shut, her head heavy against his shoulder. Just to make sure she was truly asleep, he walked and prayed some more, asking God to give her relief and a good night’s rest. When he’d successfully tucked her in her crib without waking her, he gazed down at the tiny being who’d so completely and effortlessly captured his heart. Pride and wonder and gratitude swelled in his chest. Thank you, Father, for putting Ole Jeb in my path. For changing me and leading me home. And giving me another chance with my family.
With quiet steps, he ducked under the quilt partition separating the bedroom from the kitchen and living area and approached the dwindling fire. Exhaustion pulled at him. The knot on his head was still tender, softly aching. He turned to speak to Rachel, but she was fast asleep, her head tucked to the side and her hands limp in her lap.
A rush of tenderness swamped him. Her sable hair curved softly about her face and streamed past her shoulders, gleaming like a rich pelt in the golden light. Relaxed in sleep, worry smoothed from her forehead, she appeared much younger than her twenty-four years. Carefree and unacquainted with heartache. So lovely he could hardly stand it.
He took one step forward. What are you doing, Prescott? What was he doing?
Standing stock-still, he allowed his gaze to touch her, snagging on the glint of gold around her neck where her lemon-yellow shirtwaist gaped open. He hadn’t noticed her wearing any type of jewelry, so this discovery intrigued him. Moving closer, he squinted at the simple necklace. Shock ripped through him when he saw her wedding ring dangling there, the gold band he’d bought on a whim the morning of their wedding.
What did this mean? Why would she wear it about her neck, hidden next to her heart, if it wasn’t special to her?
Heart pounding, Cole acted on impulse and, going on his knees before her, leaned in close and touched his lips to hers.
* * *
Rachel was having the most delicious dream.
She was in Cole’s arms, his mouth a whisper against hers, his fingers gently cradling her face.
Joy exploded deep inside. How long had she yearned for her husband’s embrace, to be held b
y him once again? With a soft moan, her arms encircled his neck and she pressed him closer, kissing him back with all the pent-up longing she’d kept locked inside.
Cole. My Cole. I’ve missed this. Missed you.
“I’ve missed you, too, sweet pea,” he breathed before capturing her lips again.
His voice, his touch seemed so real. But it was just a dream. A dream she never wanted to wake from. Sorrow stole her joy, weighing heavy on her heart.
Slowly, she became aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. And Cole’s enveloping heat. Her lids fluttered open. He’d pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and probing yet curiously gentle as he reached up to wipe away the moisture.
Oh, my.
“Why are you crying?” he implored huskily as his brows drew together. “Have I upset you? Was I wrong to kiss you?”
“It wasn’t a dream,” she said wonderingly, her arms still around his neck. Her lips tingled.
His arms tightened around her. “No.”
She must’ve drifted off to sleep while waiting for him. And he’d kissed her. Warmth spread through her.
“You haven’t answered my question.” His thumb brushed away more wetness. “What has you so sad?”
“Because I wanted it to be real,” she whispered the truth.
His eyes flared, his lips parted. His mouth descended on hers, and she let herself forget for a moment why this was a bad idea. But reality couldn’t be ignored forever. Somehow, she dredged up the strength to pull away.
“We can’t.”
His chest flexed beneath her palms. “Why?”
Needing space to clear her head, she exerted pressure and he responded, standing to his feet and staring down at her with a lost expression that tore at her resolve. Rising on trembling legs, she moved past him to stand in front of the fire.
He followed but didn’t touch her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You’ve changed, you know.” She faced him. “Before, you didn’t ask me how I was feeling or what was on my mind. You hardly talked to me, except to ask what was for supper or comment on the weather. Whenever I tried to steer the conversation to more serious matters, you either made up an excuse and left the room or you turned cold, glaring at me, daring me to cross the barrier. You confused me, Cole. Those last weeks, I’d hoped...” She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. “Why did you leave?”
There. She’d asked the one question she vowed not to.
Then she felt his finger beneath her chin, urging her to look at him. His handsome features were twisted with remorse. “I left because of you.”
Wincing, she called herself a fool. Hadn’t she known this would be his answer?
“You weren’t happy with me.”
“No.” His brows descended. “That’s not it. I—”
A sharp rap on the door broke them apart.
“Who could that be?” A visitor at this time of night could only mean bad news.
“Stay here.” Stiffening, Cole crossed to the door and, grabbing his pistol, edged the curtain aside with the barrel. His lips compressed into a thin line. “It’s Timmons.”
Opening the door, he nodded to the sheriff. “What can we do for you, Sheriff?”
The blond-haired man looked grim. “Cole, I need you to come with me.”
“What’s happened?”
Her heart in her throat, Rachel moved to stand beside Cole.
“I’m afraid I have bad news. Your ma’s cabin has burned to the ground. We were too late to save it.”
Chapter Nine
Oblivious to the rush of cold air, Cole stared at the lawman. Dread gnawed at him. The men who wanted him gone had sent another message. Where would it end?
“I’d like for you to come with me and take a look around.”
“It was them, wasn’t it?” Gripping his arm, Rachel gazed anxiously up at him. “Cole, what if you’d been there? If you’d been asleep when it started....”
Covering her hand with his own, he said carefully, “But I wasn’t. God saw fit to arrange for me to be here, safe with you and Abigail.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and soothe away her distress, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
“I need to go and check things out. Maybe find what started the fire. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Will you be all right on your own?”
“Yes, of course.” She looked as miserable as he felt.
Not caring that the sheriff stood watching, Cole bent and placed a quick kiss on her cold lips. “Don’t worry, okay?” he murmured. “Everything will be fine.”
She didn’t speak, just stood there looking troubled, her arms hugging her middle, as he slipped on his duster and buckled on his gun belt, tying it around his thigh. Picking up a lamp, he left her standing in the doorway and strode to the barn to ready his horse. By the time he rejoined Timmons in the yard, the cabin door was closed.
The ride across town was completed in silence. While this new threat demanded his attention, the interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time. He hated leaving their conversation unfinished. Hated that she’d mistaken his meaning. Of course she hadn’t made him unhappy. In fact, just being near her had filled him with disconcerting delight, and that’s the reason he ran. Cole hadn’t known how to be happy, how to love someone and be loved in return.
He still didn’t. But Rachel made him want to try. Made opening up his heart worth the risk.
When they rode into the yard, the sight of his childhood home reduced to a pile of charred wood kicked him in the gut. Nothing would be salvaged. His belongings, including the Bible Ole Jeb had given him, burned to a crisp. And then there were the photographs of his parents on their wedding day and the three of them shortly after his birth. He didn’t particularly want to remember his father, but it hurt that he wouldn’t have a likeness of his ma to show Abigail someday. Some things couldn’t be replaced.
Still, he thanked God for preserving his life. Otherwise, Sheriff Timmons might’ve had to deliver radically different news to Rachel tonight.
Watching as three men, lanterns held high, searched the area for clues, Cole attempted to smother the fury smoldering in his chest, the flames of outrage licking his skin. Father God, it would be so easy for me to hate my enemies. Help me to seek justice and not retribution.
Timmons looked over at him. “Any idea who would want you gone bad enough to do something like this?”
“Could be anybody. It’s no secret how people around here feel about me.”
“Your father-in-law has certainly made his feelings clear. Think he could be involved?”
He wanted to deny the possibility, but in truth he’d wondered that himself. Lawrence’s large build matched that of the man who’d done all the talking the night of his attack.
“Sheriff?” The man closest to them, who Cole now recognized as his neighbor Jimmy Scruggs, waved them over. “I think I found something.”
Both men dismounted and, lanterns swinging, strode over to where the older man stood waiting.
“Mr. Scruggs—” Cole nodded a greeting “—I appreciate your help.”
“Scruggs was the one who first noticed the fire,” Timmons inserted. “Said he was out checking his traps when he heard laughter and later, the sound of horses riding hard and fast toward town.”
“I didn’t think anything of it at first. After about ten minutes, I smelled smoke.” He gestured with his hands. “I came over to investigate, and that’s when I saw the fire. I hollered for ya, but when I didn’t get a response and I didn’t see your horse, I figured you weren’t here. I went and fetched my hired hand to help me put out the fire. We did what we could, but it was too late.”
Cole’s gaze swept the smoldering ruins, the acrid smell of scorch
ed wood burning his nostrils. In the glow of the lanterns, steam curled toward the night sky where they’d tossed pails of creek water in an effort to put out the flames. Scruggs appeared to be telling the truth. And in light of his apology and offer of friendship yesterday, he couldn’t imagine him setting the fire. Still, he had to be on guard, to consider all the angles.
“What did you find?” Timmons thumbed his hat up.
“A half-smoked cigar.”
All three men crouched down to get a closer look. The sheriff reached out and picked up the discarded band, letting it dangle between his thumb and index finger. Cole recognized it immediately as the Prince of Wales brand out of Florida. He blanked his face even as his stomach churned with the revelation. His father-in-law smoked those. Vowed they were the best around.
“You smoke?” Timmons eyed him and frowned, perhaps sensing his turmoil.
“No,” he croaked. Rising, he paced away from them and glared into the night.
Timmons followed closely behind. “There something you want to tell me?”
“Nope.” How was he supposed to break this news to Rachel? Inflict further pain?
“Ya know,” the other man drawled, braced his hands on his hips, “like you, I’ve lived here my whole life. In a town this size, you get to know people real well, their likes and dislikes. Their preferences. Take Scruggs, for instance. I know he prefers Pears soap. Mr. Moore eats his eggs sunny-side up and his steak still mooing. Sam O’Malley only wears Hyer boots. That brand of cigar, well, I know of only one man who smokes them. If it’s the same man you’re thinking of, then we have a case for arrest.”
Cole remained silent, brooding. He would not be the one responsible for fingering Rachel’s father as the perpetrator behind these attacks. Perhaps he should confront Lawrence in private. If he made it clear he wasn’t leaving, Lawrence might give up the scare tactics.
“I get that you’re trying to protect Rachel, but she’s a big girl. She can handle the truth. How do you think she’d feel if things escalated and you got hurt or killed?”