by Cat Cahill
She was quiet, and that was strange enough that he finally turned to see what was wrong.
“Your soup is growing cold,” she said, her eyes downcast.
He ate a few spoonfuls of soup. Maggie hadn’t touched her bowl at all. “Maggie?”
She raised her head.
“Why don’t you eat?”
She dutifully lifted a spoonful of ham and bean soup to her lips just as Miss Sinclair returned with the coffee. Isaac continued to eat, but still, something felt off. As soon as Miss Sinclair left again, he sighed and set the spoon down. “What’s wrong?”
Maggie swallowed and stirred her soup. “What do you mean?”
“You’re never this quiet. What’s on your mind?”
“I suppose . . . it’s me. I always say the wrong thing. I’m sorry I ruined our lunch.” She spoke every word to her soup bowl.
Isaac’s heart contracted. She blamed herself for so much, he wondered what else in her life she felt she was at fault for. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out a hand and laid it on top of hers. She went still and lifted her eyes to him.
“You’ve ruined nothing. I’m quite enjoying my soup. And I believe I owe you an explanation.”
She tilted her head, but she didn’t remove her hand. The faintest hint of happiness curled through Isaac. He dragged his eyes from her and glanced around to ensure he wouldn’t be overheard. “I told you about my younger brother, Sebastian.” When she nodded, he continued. “Sebastian was always one to test the limits. He grew into the kind of man who is unsatisfied with the mundane. He fell in with a group of men in Denver who felt the same. I was working my father’s ranch at the time, but I had the feeling Sebastian was in trouble. So I left and found him and his friends. I was right. They’d robbed a stage headed out of town, spent every cent they’d stolen, and were making plans to do it again.” He took a deep breath and forced himself not to look away. Most of his adult life was shameful, despite the reasons behind his actions, and it hurt to relive it.
“You took care of him, didn’t you?” Maggie asked gently before Isaac could gather the strength to speak again.
He nodded. “I’ve always felt responsible for him. My mother once told me it was my duty to look out for my little brother, and I suppose I’ve never forgotten that. So when I found him in Denver, I was torn. Becoming an outlaw would mean the end of my dreams of running my father’s spread one day, yet I couldn’t leave Sebastian alone. All I could picture was my mother’s face if he were to be killed or caught and hanged. I figured that if I were with him, I could keep him safe.”
Maggie pressed her lips together but said nothing. Instead, her hand turned underneath his until her palm was against his. She curled her fingers around his hand. It was the smallest of actions, and yet it sent his mind spinning. He tried to focus on what he’d been saying but couldn’t find words now that every fiber of his being seemed attached to the feel of Maggie’s hand against his own.
It took several moments for his mind to still enough to speak again. “When I met you on the train, that was the last job I agreed to do with them.”
“What made you decide to leave?”
“I got to thinking about how I can’t look out for him forever. And then I met Pete—Mr. Hemphill—in a saloon in Cañon City. We got to talking about ranching, and he was looking for work, and I suppose that made me remember the inheritance I had in the bank.” Movement from nearby made Isaac glance up. One of the other waitresses was clearing dishes a few tables over. He dropped his voice as he continued, “Sebastian didn’t take me leaving well.”
“I’m glad you left,” Maggie said quietly.
“I am too. That life wasn’t for me. I despised every second of it. I’d do anything for my brother—and I always will—but there comes a time when he needs to start looking out for himself.” Saying the words out loud didn’t necessarily assuage the guilt Isaac carried with him, even if he knew he’d made the right decision. “And I could no longer live with myself if I continued down that path. At some point, a man needs to get right with God.”
Maggie’s hand squeezed his, and Isaac thought his heart might have forgotten to keep beating. “We should eat.”
He smiled as Maggie returned her hand to her spoon, even though his hand felt strangely light and cold without hers in it. He picked up his spoon and began to eat. The soup had cooled, but it was still delicious. Neither of them spoke as they finished their meal, and Isaac found his mind wandering to the wagon filled with goods. Maggie had wound up purchasing more items than could possibly be used in only a few days. He’d wondered about it at the time, and now he found himself pondering it again. She’d spoken so casually of breads and cakes and pies with the store owner’s wife, mentioning more dishes than could be cooked or baked by Saturday.
Had she been making polite conversation, or did she see herself making all of these mouthwatering dishes? And if it was the latter, what did that mean exactly? Isaac didn’t dare put the thought into specific words, almost as if the thinking of it could make him too hopeful. But then he wondered why the idea she’d planned so many things to cook filled him with hope. After all, she was hardly the wife he’d asked for, the one he’d thought he wanted. He searched his mind for that eagerness he’d felt the first night they’d met to drop her right back off at the depot.
It wasn’t there.
Afraid of what that meant, Isaac shoved the thought down just as Miss Sinclair arrived to clear their bowls and offer dessert. Isaac asked for two slices of pound cake, wrapped. They needed to return to the ranch.
As they strolled to the stable, he decided to ask one question that had weighed on his mind—one he’d been curious about ever since he’d received her first letter. “What made you choose me?” When she gave him a puzzled look, he added, “My ad. I presume there were other men you could have written to instead. Ones who wouldn’t have insisted upon marriage before you met them.”
“Oh!” She laughed, and the sound rivaled the birds in the trees near the creek a little ways off. “I liked that you had a ranch. I didn’t want to live in a large city, so that was appealing. You sounded serious, and if I was going to leave home, I didn’t want it to be for naught. And . . .” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “You seemed the most handsome.”
Isaac stumbled over nothing underfoot. Maggie laughed and continued walking as he stood still. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at him as he stood there, rooted to the spot, warmth rising to his face.
If he wasn’t careful, this woman was going to wind him around her little finger.
In fact, he was afraid she already had.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was low in the sky when they reached Aspen Ridge. Isaac had grown quieter the closer they’d gotten. The moment they pulled into the ranch’s drive, his shoulders relaxed and he even smiled at Maggie again.
“Were you expecting trouble?” Maggie asked as he jumped down from the buckboard. She hadn’t been nervous at all as they drove home, but now she wondered if she should have been.
“No, but it pays to be vigilant. I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.” He stood against the wagon, dark eyes catching her gaze. Maggie swallowed and clasped her hands in her lap, yet she couldn’t look away from him.
“Do you intend to remain in the wagon all night?” He cocked a smile at her, and Maggie found herself growing warm in the chill of late afternoon.
She slid over to the driver’s seat and then stood and held out a hand for assistance. But instead of taking her hand, Isaac placed a hand on each side of her waist and lifted her down.
His movement was so quick, Maggie barely had time to react. Some sort of squeak left her lips half a second before he placed her on the ground. The moment he let go, she stumbled forward—right into his chest. He caught her by the arms, strong hands bracing her.
He laughed before asking, “Are you all right?”
Maggie nodded, not trusting herself
to speak. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly. When she left this morning, she couldn’t have imagined enjoying lunch with Isaac the way she had. And now, here they were, a breath away from each other with no one else around. She knew she should take a step back, but she didn’t.
She didn’t want to.
Isaac lifted one hand and gently pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped its pins. His touch was gentle, and his fingers lingered on her chin, just below her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed even as she could feel him watching her intently. A breeze lifted her skirts and made her hair dance, but she didn’t feel its chill. It was impossible to think about anything else when Isaac held her like this.
“Maggie?” he said, his voice ragged as if he hadn’t used it in some time.
“Hmm?” was all she could manage to say.
His fingers splayed out on her cheek and she thought she might sink into the ground like rain. “You could stay,” he finally said.
She opened her eyes to his face, earnest and vulnerable. She’d be lying if she told him the thought hadn’t occurred to her. But could she trust him, after what he’d done?
Could he trust her?
The thought nearly rent her heart in two. She’d told herself all along that having pretended to be the kind of woman he’d asked for wasn’t nearly as bad as the life he’d kept from her. And perhaps it was true. After all, he seemed to have put her fibs aside. But her heart pounded at the thought of his past. She believed him when he said he was done with it. But his love for his brother was intense, and what might happen if Sebastian needed him again?
Isaac’s fingers traced her jawline, and Maggie closed her eyes again. One of the horses shuffled and stamped his hooves, but she barely heard it. He gently tilted her chin up.
If she wasn’t certain, she shouldn’t let this happen. It would be cruel if she allowed this attention and then left on Saturday. But Maggie felt helpless to stop it. She didn’t want to stop it. His breath warmed her face and it took all she had not to throw her arms around him and pull his lips to hers. Just as he closed the distance, the horses snuffled again, and a shout followed.
“That you, Boss?”
Isaac jerked up and away from her. Maggie swayed with the sudden cold that enveloped her now that he was no longer holding her. She grabbed the side of the wagon to keep her balance.
Mr. Hemphill had wandered up from the barn and now stood near the horses, a light smile playing on his lips. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Maggie lifted a hand to her hot face and looked away, hoping Mr. Hemphill didn’t notice her flush.
“Help me get these things inside? Then we can put the horses up,” Isaac was saying as if nothing at all had just happened.
Maggie took that as a cue to scamper inside the house. While Isaac and Mr. Hemphill took care of the horses, Maggie busied herself with finding a place for each of their purchases. She laid the fabric and the other items she needed to make the curtains in a basket she’d found in the kitchen. She’d begin work on those tomorrow morning. As she moved through the house, she tried not to think about what had just happened by the wagon—and what might happen when Isaac returned. Now that she could think straight, she knew she shouldn’t allow anything like that to happen again.
You could stay. The words echoed through her head, over and over, as she poured salt into the salt box and placed a small amount of sugar for coffee in a little bowl she’d found.
The strangest thing was, she could imagine herself remaining here—waking up to the sunrise that flooded the valley, preparing meals, riding about the land with Isaac to assist where she could, and spending evenings with him by the fireplace in the parlor. But there were so many unanswered questions. Perhaps if they talked more, then she could confidently make a decision. If she knew for certain he wouldn’t go back to help his brother . . . If he told her more about what he’d done . . .
Maggie shook her head and smiled at herself. She could hardly believe she was entertaining the thought of remaining here as Isaac’s wife.
The front door opened and shut, and after a pause, his boots strode through the house to the kitchen. Maggie set the sugar bowl back on the counter and turned to meet him.
He’d shed his coat and hat, and he stood in the dim light of the lamps near the stove, guns strapped to his hips, face in need of a shave and watching her with a smile. “Are you happy with your purchases?”
“I am. Thank you.” Maggie busied herself with folding a towel that lay on the wooden countertop. “Isaac? I’m sorry I left the way I did earlier. I didn’t mean anything by it, and I certainly didn’t intend to worry you.”
“I should’ve said something earlier. But to be honest, I didn’t picture you taking off on your own like that. Although perhaps I should have.” He grinned at her, his arms crossed while he leaned against the counter. He looked every inch the rancher, and Maggie smiled, thinking he’d be happy to know that.
She placed the towel in a drawer, trying to figure out what to say next. She felt oddly uncertain of herself after what had taken place earlier. She didn’t know what should happen next, although she knew it wouldn’t—couldn’t—be him taking her in his arms again, as much as she might wish for that to occur.
“Might I ask you a question?” Isaac said.
Maggie glanced up at him, thankful he was driving the conversation. “Of course you may.”
“What made you want to leave home? In Illinois,” he added.
She briefly shut her eyes, reliving that moment in the store when Mr. Etter had insisted upon marriage. Her stomach turned. When she opened her eyes, Isaac was watching her, but his arms were uncrossed now and he’d moved forward, closer to her.
“I only ask because it seemed you had the ability to provide for yourself, and you had friends there. It makes me curious why you’d seek out marriage to a man you never met.”
Maggie rested a hand on the countertop, her fingers tracing the grains of smooth wood, as she tried to figure out where to start. “You must understand that for all my life, everyone in town saw me as a girl who could never quite behave as she should. I have a tendency to speak my mind when I ought to keep my thoughts to myself.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said with a smile.
The fact that any man might look upon that fault of hers with a smile nearly undid Maggie, but she pushed on. “I had no prospects of marriage. The boys my age much preferred quieter girls, the ones who could keep house without a peep. The store proprietor who hired me was an older man, a widower. I’d known him my entire life, and was thankful for the work even if he was given to imbibe far too often. It allowed me not to depend on the charity of my friend and her family, who couldn’t truly afford to keep me.
“Then one day . . . Mr. Etter proposed. When I declined, he informed me I no longer had a position at his store. Plainfield is a small town, and I could find no other work. I gave up my room at the boarding house and returned to living with Ivy and her family, but I despised being a burden to them. Ivy suggested I might look at the marriage ads in the newspaper, mostly as a lark, but I was intrigued. Just the thought of leaving Plainfield and starting somewhere anew, some place where no one had any preconceived notions about me, was more than I could imagine. And to be truthful, I craved a bit of adventure. But none of the men appealed to me, at least, well . . .”
“Until me,” Isaac finished for her.
Maggie nodded.
He ran a hand over the beginnings of the beard on his chin. “I’m sorry you were forced out of your employment at the store, and that you were put into that position. But part of me is thankful to that man, else I might not have met you.”
Maggie pushed her lips together as her heart thudded. After spending her life as someone unappealing to any man except an old, drunken widower, it was hard to believe that Isaac felt that way about her.
He reached for her hand, and, against her better judgment, she let him take it.
“Maggie—”
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At just that moment, the front door flew open, slamming against the wall.
Chapter Sixteen
“Isaac!” a male voice boomed from the parlor.
Sebastian.
Isaac froze, his hand wrapped around Maggie’s.
“Who is that?” she asked in a whisper.
He didn’t answer. His mind was spinning with what Sebastian might want, but one thing was clear—he needed to get Maggie out of the way. Too slowly, he tore his hand from hers. “Get upstairs.”
Maggie looked as if she had numerous questions. He laid a finger against his lips and, thankfully, she didn’t ask any of them. But the moment they entered the hallway, Sebastian appeared in the doorway from the parlor.
“Well, now I see what’s so appealing about ranching.” Sebastian’s frame, a little shorter and leaner than Isaac’s own, leaned against the wooden trim. His eyes, an exact copy of his older brother’s, traced Maggie up and down. A bloom of anger nearly exploded inside Isaac, and he stepped in front of her to block her from Sebastian’s view.
“I’m Sebastian Trenton,” his brother drawled, stepping to the side of Isaac. “And you are?”
“My wife.” Isaac could barely keep the growl from his voice. He had all the patience in the world with his brother—most of the time—but not when it came to this.
“I’m Maggie Trenton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Isaac’s told me so much about you.” She pushed past him, and before he knew it, she was holding her hand out to Sebastian as if he’d come to pay a call on them.
“Has he now?” Sebastian side-eyed him for a moment before taking Maggie’s hand and laying a kiss on it in a most gentlemanly fashion.
Isaac clenched his fists to keep from knocking his brother back into the parlor.
“I believe you’re missing a ring, Mrs. Trenton,” Sebastian said, holding on to Maggie’s hand. “It makes a man wonder if you’re actually married.”
“It’s coming,” Isaac said shortly. Turning his back to Sebastian, he caught Maggie’s wary gaze and nodded at the stairs. She said a quick good evening to Sebastian and was gone before his brother could form a reply. “Why are you here?” Isaac continued.