“Oh, I imagine it’s more than that. Surely, you must be something like a mother to them. I know you feel that way to me.”
Clara’s hand stilled halfway toward the next dish. She placed her palm over her heart instead. “Gemma Reed, you just made me a very happy old lady.”
“It’s not Gemma Reed yet.”
“It will be soon.”
Gemma could do nothing to stop her pleased smile.
“Aren’t you worried about what’s going to happen to the ranch?” she asked after another few minutes of silence. “Mitchell says that if he keeps losing heads...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
Clara knowingly nodded. “I know what Mitch says. He’s a worrier. He always has been. The ranch is going through a hard time. It’s only his fifth year after having to take over so suddenly. Things will get better, especially now that you’re here. I heard about what you did, finding that yew. We didn’t know we were getting such a smart young lady!”
“It’s nothing very special.”
“It made a difference to Mitchell.”
“Yes, it did, didn’t it?”
Gemma turned the dish in her hand over and over. How long had she been washing that one for?
“Mitchell looks at you in a special way, Gemma. I just want to tell you that.”
Gemma had to stop what she was doing. A euphoric sensation had filled her chest and pushed her heart into her throat, where it thudded away, making it hard for her to swallow. “I care for him. I really do.”
She more than cared for him. She loved him. As she hadn’t yet said that to Mitchell, though, she could not rightfully tell someone else.
Clara nodded knowingly. “He looked at you this morning the way my husband used to look at me, Lord rest his soul.”
“Oh, Clara,” Gemma whispered. “I am very sorry.”
“Don’t be. We were married for over thirty years. I have his photograph next to my bed. I know that after I close my eyes for the last time on this Earth and I open them up again on the other side, he’ll be there, waiting for me.”
Tears blurred Gemma’s vision. “That’s lovely, Clara. He must have been a wonderful man.”
“One of the best I ever knew. Your own man reminds me of him. Mitch and Lyle even shared the same temper. Quick to explode, but always quick to forgive, too. Quick to love.”
“When did you marry? And where?” Now that Clara was talking about her life, Gemma had an urge to hear every detail about it.
“I was seventeen and we married in Baltimore.”
“And did you stay there?”
Clara nodded. “Until we came to Wyoming twenty years ago. When Lyle passed ten years after that, I started working at Winding Path, and this became my home. These men became my family.”
“What did you do before that? Did you live in town?”
“Ah, no.” Clara’s eyes glowed with a long-ago memory. “Lyle and I had our own farm, just on the other side of town. After he died, I sold it. I thought about staying there and hiring out to keep it going. For a good while, the thought of leaving it behind was too much to bear. It seemed like I might be giving up a part of Lyle if I did that, disrespecting all our memories there…
“But then, Mitchell’s father offered me a position here. I already knew them well, of course. They were such a nice family. I just couldn’t say no. Another sweet, young family has mine and Lyle’s old land now and they’re making their own memories there.” She nodded confidently. “I’m of more use here. And, besides, I don’t need land to be connected to my husband. He’s in my heart and soul, joined to me through the union God blessed us with. Lyle was my best friend and my partner in everything. Every experience we each went through, we shared. There were no secrets between us.” Clara’s face shown with a kind of light that did not seem Earthly.
Gemma stared at Clara, her limbs so heavy she felt she couldn’t move. As Clara had first begun to tell her story, Gemma was filled with bittersweet happiness and awe, but now, she mostly felt guilt. The older woman had said she and her husband shared everything, that there were no secrets between them. The kind of union they’d had sounded glorious.
Unfortunately, Gemma could not ensure she would have the same with Mitchell. They were not even married yet, and she already kept a secret from him. She had arrived in Wyoming Territory an engaged woman on the run, with no determined plans to reveal her past to her future husband any time soon.
How could Gemma expect for them to grow close, to have their souls join as one, when her own heart was burdened by a dark and terrible secret?
They fell into quiet once more, finishing up cleaning the kitchen. Gemma went about the rest of her chores before returning to the kitchen to have Clara teach her how to bake bread. The whole time, there was a disconnect between her spirit and her body. She felt very far away, as if she were up above her head watching herself work.
I am no better than a liar, she realized, pressing her knuckles hard into the dough beneath her hands. If I do not tell Mitchell the absolute truth about why I came here, I am committing a terrible sin.
She would tell him as soon as he arrived back from town, she decided. The thought made her ill. How would he react to her revelation? Things had only just become wonderful between them. Mitchell wanted her to stay with him, even if the troubles with the ranch did not cease.
But would he still be of that mind once he found out she was an engaged runaway, a woman who had knowingly disrespected her parents and deceived all she knew?
It mattered not. Gemma’s job was to be completely honest with him. Whatever reaction he had, she would deserve. And she would accept it, not because she wanted to, but because she needed to.
With consistently bated breath, she awaited Mitchell’s return from town, constantly looking in the direction of the road. Not long before noon, he finally came riding up. Leaving her weeding in the vegetable garden, Gemma carried both her aching back and aching heart to the horse stable.
“How did it fare?” she asked as she approached.
Mitchell turned from leading his horse into the barn. His furrowed brow and frown spoke volumes. “Not well. There’s no news. No leads. Nothing’s changed. We’re still the only ranch havin’ issues.”
She hoped he would go on, perhaps elaborate a little more, but he only looked at the trees behind Gemma in sullen silence. She twisted her hands in her apron, her thoughts racing. This was the moment she’d planned for all morning; this was the hour when she was to reveal her deepest, darkest secret.
And yet, the timing was all wrong.
Mitchell ran his hand across his eyes and sighed. A weathered smile snaked across his face. “You look good covered in dirt and grime.”
Gemma looked down at her filthy apron and earth-caked hands. Pleased heat, combined with the shame she’d felt all morning, mixed and exploded in her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
How could she give up having Mitchell talk to her in that way, like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, even if she was slick with sweat and exhausted from the heat?
“See you at the noon meal.”
She stole one look into his eyes before he turned and continued taking his horse into the barn.
She would tell him the truth. Soon—very soon. He just had too much on his plate at the moment. Surely, he couldn’t handle any more stress.
Before the wedding, she promised herself. I will reveal the truth before the wedding.
22
22. Mitchell
Chapter Twenty-Two
A branch snapped in the darkness and Mitchell sat up straighter, holding his breath so he wouldn’t make so much as one sound. He peered through the night, inspecting the other side of the creek bank. A small, round animal shuffled into view.
Mitchell let out a long exhale. A raccoon. Going to the edge of Lullaby Creek, it dipped its paws in the water and began washing something it held. Satisfied, it took its dinner and scampered back off into the night, leaving
Mitch alone once more.
Adjusting the blanket he had propped between himself and the bank, Mitch looked longingly in the direction of the main house. A couple windows still shone with light. One of them, he was almost certain, was Gemma’s. Was she awake and thinking about him?
Their conversation the night before had lifted his spirits like none other, but another day with no leads left him feeling like less of a man. It had been hard to come back to Winding Path and face the woman who seemed to have so much faith in him.
Ripping his gaze away from the house, he looked to his right, in the direction of the monolithic mountains. He couldn’t see their forms, but he knew they were there, hiding their secrets—both ancient and recent ones.
It had occurred to him earlier that day that the likeliest path for rustlers to take would be along the creek bed, where they’d have the cover of the bank and the flow of the water to hide their tracks. And so, he’d set himself up along it for the night, while Daniel and Davis set up at their own posts closer to the ranch. They had an agreed-upon whistle to use in case any of them should spot danger and Mitch had his father’s pistol tucked in his belt.
Getting more comfortable, he crossed his arms and tucked his chin. Before the raccoon popped up, it had been getting near impossible to stay awake. Maybe if he just took one minute of rest, he’d have a better time staying alert.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the creek, the sound of its water flowing over him. He thought of Gemma, up in the house—his house. She’d said she would stay with him no matter what, but he couldn’t let their life together be a case of ‘no matter what’. He had to give her the best. She deserved the best.
The cry of a hawk pierced Mitch’s skull. Snapping his eyes open, he sat straight up. Hazy, blue light surrounded him. It was dawn.
A curse began to fly from his tongue, but he checked it just in time. How had he fallen asleep without even meaning to? And, on top of that, how had he not woken up when the heat began to rise?
He was exhausted, tired out beyond sense. His body had begun to betray him, seizing what it wanted no matter what plans Mitch had in store.
Groaning, he hauled his aching body to standing and surveyed the area around him. Lullaby Creek looked just as it had the night before, no footprints in the soft mud. Stepping onto wide rocks, he began to cross the creek.
Halfway to the other bank, Gemma suddenly crested the ridge, her golden hair shining like a halo even in the still-dim light. “Hello!” she called.
They met each other at the creek’s edge, Gemma a little breathless as she turned her face up to his. “I brought you breakfast.”
For the first time, he noticed the tin plate and mug in her hands. “Thank you.”
As she handed the meal over, their fingers brushed. For the briefest instant, all Mitch’s worries dissipated. He couldn’t remember why he was so stressed and sleep-deprived. Shoot, he probably wouldn’t remember his own name if someone asked.
“I doubted you were about to come inside for it,” Gemma explained.
He knew she probably wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty, but he felt that way regardless. “Did you happen to see Davis or Daniel on your way up?”
“Yes, they’re inside having the breakfast. They’re the ones who suggested I bring some out to you.”
“Huh.” He’d have to give them an earful later for failing to come wake him up. Had they fallen asleep during the night as well? No cattle rustlers would be caught if the guards were all snoozing away.
“I need to go and—”
Gemma stepped in front of him so he couldn’t leave. “Sit for a minute. Have your breakfast.”
He hesitated. He knew he had to get up and moving, but he was also being eager to enjoy a sliver of time with Gemma.
“All right,” he conceded, sitting down on a nearby rock. Gemma perched nearby.
“I hope you are not pushing yourself too hard,” she started.
Mitch gave her a smile. “That’s ranch life.”
“Hm.” She twisted her lips. “Mitchell...”
He looked at her over the tin mug. The coffee had cooled while she’d carried it across the field, which allowed him to now be half-finished with it. “Uh-huh?”
“Do you still feel Sunday is a good day to marry?”
He paused, unsure of what to say. She’d seemed so happy when he suggested they make that the big day, but now, he could see the hesitation in her. Sunday was only a few days away. Was Gemma getting cold feet?
His gut twisted. “We can put it off if that makes you feel better,” he slowly said. “There’s no rushing into it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That actually sounds wonderful. It is just that you are so busy right now, and, you see, I do not know if it is the best time. I know I might be too blunt saying this—”
“Not at all,” he cut in. “What you’re saying makes sense. You came here at a rough time, Gemma. Truth be told...” He took in a long breath. It probably wasn’t the right time to tell her what he was about to, but then again, the perfect time would likely never arrive. “When I received your letter, I thought that I needed to write you and tell you not to come after all, that I might not have a ranch for you to be the lady of for long. But your letter said you were already on the way, and so I couldn’t do anything but go and meet the stagecoach.”
The look on her face was unreadable. Shock? Disappointment? Acceptance? Mitch couldn’t tell.
“Gemma? Miss Campbell?”
He flinched at his own use of her formal name. He didn’t know why he’d said it, since he’d taken to calling her by her first. He was just that uncomfortable and unsure.
“It didn’t mean I didn’t want you to come here,” he continued. “I wanted you. Believe me. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you coming here and being disappointed, seeing how I was just struggling to keep my head above water.”
Gemma licked her lips, her head bobbing in a lethargic nod. “I understand. I do not resent you for that.”
The air Mitch hadn’t known he was holding in left his chest with a relieved sigh. “You don’t know how good it is to get that off my chest.”
Gemma frowned a little and looked away, still not happy about something.
“What is it?” he pushed.
“I… There is something I want to tell you and it has to do with my mentioning the wedding.”
“What are you talking about?”
A pained look crossed her face. Before she could say anything else, Mitch’s name rang out from above the creek bed. For the second time that morning, he nearly cursed—something he hardly ever did.
“We’ll talk later,” he promised her, pausing only long enough to get her confirmatory nod before he scrambled up the creek bank.
Samuel waited on horseback at the edge of the field. “Nat spotted men on horseback traveling near the east side,” he explained. “And Davis heard that some strangers were getting close to Greene’s.”
Mitchell’s heart skipped a beat. “The same ones?”
Samuel shrugged. “Could be.”
“Get a few men. We’ll go talk to these strangers now.”
Samuel rode back toward the ranch. Mitch turned to Gemma, who had just followed him up the bank, the empty mug and half-eaten plate of breakfast stacked in her hand.
“I have to go right now,” Mitchell explained, already walking. “Soon, we’ll talk. I promise.”
Gemma only nodded again. She seemed worried and he wished he had time to soothe her, but there was just none of that available. They hurried back to the buildings in silence. Samuel, Davis, and Beau already waited on horseback for him, Lady saddled and ready to go.
It wasn’t until he was on his horse and headed down the drive that Mitch thought to look behind him. Gemma was walking back to the house, her already small form getting even smaller.
“How many were there?” Mitch asked.
“Nat said four or five,” Beau explained. “But he saw them at a distance and could
n’t make them all out. It was just before sunrise.”
“Hm.”
Excitement collected in Mitch’s stomach. It was a strange reaction, considering he was hunting down potentially dangerous men, but he was so eager to have the mystery done and over with he couldn’t help but be a bit thrilled.
The land leveled out the farther east it went, making it easier to spot things from a distance. The short line of riders couldn’t be missed. They were headed down the main road, going single file. In the middle of the line, two donkeys pulled a bright red, covered cart.
Her Western Heart_Seeing Ranch series Page 15