“That’s the hope,” she said. “If I can find the right house. It would be nice to work from home, not have to drop the girls off at day care every day. I could make these pretty little breakfasts, maybe even do some homemade jars of jam I could sell to my guests...”
“You surprise me.”
“Me?” she said, glancing up at him. “You hardly know me.”
“True, but I guess I had a few assumptions going in,” he admitted. “You’re tougher than I gave you credit for.”
“How do you figure that?” she asked with a low laugh.
“Just the way you were handling Ross,” he replied. “You seemed to have him under control.”
“I did,” she said. “I mean, he was on my last nerve, but I was pretty close to sending him away with his tail between his legs.”
“You shouldn’t have been put in that position to begin with,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Tomorrow morning the new cook will start, so we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“That’s good. So Peg liked him, then?” she asked.
“She...approved.” Colt frowned. “You know, if I didn’t know Peg better, I’d say that she sized him up for more than a cook position.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Colt said. “They’re of the same generation, so maybe it was just that.”
A rabbit jumped out of the ditch on the side of the road and Jane startled and tripped. Instinctively, Colt shot out his hand and grabbed hers.
Jane’s cool fingers wrapped around his hand in a squeeze, and she let out a breathy laugh as they watched the hare bound off into the long grass. She didn’t seem to notice that her hand was still in his, and he was about to release her, but somehow he didn’t. It felt good. Jane licked her lips and looked up at him. She pulled her hand out of his, and he let go and smiled ruefully.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s okay...”
They fell silent then as they walked the rest of the way to the house. Colt’s boots thunked against the gravel road, and he inwardly chastised himself. He shouldn’t have grabbed her hand like that. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been—it was his own instinct working against him, and he was getting protective of her, it seemed.
He stole a look in her direction, and her cheeks were slightly pink—from the sun or from embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. Great. He wasn’t much better than Ross right now, was he?
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she repeated.
Right. Except it didn’t feel okay to him. It felt awkward and strained, and that was the last thing he wanted between them.
“No, I really need you to understand that I’m not making a move on you,” he said. “There will be a lot of Rosses in the world who are going to try to get your attention, but I’m not one of those guys.”
She sent him a sympathetic look and pulled her hair away from her face in one sweeping motion.
“Not that I don’t appreciate...” He grimaced. He wasn’t trying to insult her, either. “I work with cattle. A lot. And ranch hands, of course. I manage pasture rotation, sick cows, bullheaded employees. That kind of thing. I’m not the smoothest guy. I’m a straightforward guy who says what he means.” He cast about, looking for the right words. “You are beautiful, for the record. It’s not like I didn’t notice.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know where you stand.”
“Yeah, you know I don’t want to get married, but you should know that I’m not the kind of guy who plays around with romance. So if there is ever any question of whether I was flirting or not, maybe just give me the benefit of the doubt.” Jane smiled and he eyed her uncertainly. “Okay?”
“Okay. I can do that.”
The house was just ahead, and they turned their steps up the hill toward it. The side door was propped open with an old coffee can filled with nails as it normally was when they needed a breeze in there, and Peg looked outside.
“Mommy’s coming,” Peg said, and the two little girls came scampering out after her.
“Mama!” one of them hollered, and they both came squealing down the short hill toward them.
The toddlers were pretty cute in their matching yellow dresses and their bouncing red curls, and as Jane hoisted up the first toddler, the second girl collided with her knees.
Jane kissed the little girl in her arms, then glanced back at Colt.
“They’re getting too big for me to carry together,” she said, and her eyes sparkled with a smile. “You want to grab one for me?”
Colt reached for the toddler in her arms, and then she gathered up the other one. The little girl squirmed in his arms and then looked up at him with wide, serious eyes. There was a freckle in the middle of her forehead, and he grinned.
“Hey, Micha,” he said quietly.
Micha’s face erupted into a smile and she reached for his hat. “Cat!”
He took it off and dropped it onto her head, listening to the sound of her muffled giggles as he matched Jane’s pace, walking up toward the house.
Micha pulled his hat off, her hair standing on end, then dropped it back over her face again with a tinkle of laughter.
“She likes my hat,” he said, glancing over to find Jane watching him.
“You’re good with kids,” she said.
“Nah,” he replied. “I make a half-decent uncle to my cousins’ kids. They call me uncle, at least—it’s simpler. I’m the guy who gives cash once a year to cover everything he missed.”
Jane laughed and Colt caught Peg’s gaze pinned on them, a thoughtful look on her weathered face.
He hadn’t had dinner yet, and he smiled in her direction.
“Peg, I’m starving. What do we have?”
“There’s a tuna casserole in the fridge,” she said. “I thought you would have eaten already at the canteen since Jane was down there.”
“I forgot, quite honestly,” he said. Tuna casserole meant it was a gift from one of the neighbors. That was a relief. “The casserole will be just fine.”
At the steps, he put Micha down so that she could run inside, and Jane passed into the house ahead of him. From the kitchen, he could hear the toddlers babble at their mother. They’d missed her. Well, he wasn’t going to be taking her away from them again. He had a cook starting in the morning, and he’d be back to his own workload. Colt stood there in the lowering summer sunlight for a moment, wishing that walk with Jane hadn’t felt so nice.
“That’s what a family feels like,” Peg said quietly, as if reading his thoughts.
He gave her a cautious look. “I’m not a family man, Peg.”
“Some families are happy,” she said. “It is possible, you know.”
It was also possible for a family’s sins to shadow the next generation. Colt had never seen a functional and happy marriage up close. He’d certainly seen all the ways to break a heart, though. When he hadn’t answered, Peg turned and went into the house, the screen door swinging slowly shut behind her. Peg was right. Some families were happy.
“But not ours,” he murmured.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Jane woke up at five thirty with the sunrise. The day before had tired her right out, but she wasn’t going to be able to sleep any longer. Besides, it felt self-indulgent to sleep in on a ranch that started working at four each morning.
When Jane got up and padded softly to the kitchen, she found Peg at the table with her Bible drinking a cup of coffee in a pool of early morning sunlight that flooded in through an open kitchen window. Some birds twittered outside, and a coffeepot gurgled from the counter, but Peg didn’t seem to have heard her, so Jane slipped back to her bedroom and eased the door shut with a soft click. She propped herself up in bed with her own Bible beside her as she listened to her girls br
eathe. This was a peaceful time of the morning, and she felt a wave of gratefulness for this ranch in spite of it all.
She picked up her Bible and opened it at random, her gaze flowing over the page.
Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.
It was from Song of Solomon, and she sighed and rubbed her hands over her eyes. It seemed that every time she opened her Bible these days, she was opening it to this book. She didn’t want to be reminded of marriage, of her early hopes for the lifelong romance she would enjoy. Life hadn’t turned out that way. Where had her husband gone? First, he’d gone to war, and when he came back his heart still seemed to be out there in the dirt with his brothers at arms. And then he died out there, so far from home. She’d been faithful for as long as he’d lived, but now she was single again. She’d done her duty, and he’d done his. So why, every time she prayed for God’s guidance, did she keep coming back to the Song of Solomon with its descriptions of romantic love?
Jane didn’t want another marriage! She wanted some quiet, some calm, some time to focus on her children. Wasn’t that more important than indulging in some romantic daydream? It hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped the first time, anyway. Life wasn’t a poetic romance—it was hard work. But even as she thought it, her mind was moving back to that tall, rugged cowboy, Colt. Their walk together back to the house had felt strangely intimate. He was easy to be with, easy to lean into. That was the problem. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of Colt’s rough hand closing around hers. His reflexes had been fast, and he’d caught her, stopping her stumble and her heart all at once.
Her eyes fluttered open again. He’d held her hand for a moment—accidentally. He’d made that very clear, and it was a relief, because the last thing she needed was another man who ought to be put in his place. Colt wasn’t like that, so she should just stop remembering what that strong hand felt like.
Jane flipped purposefully through her Bible until she got to the verse she was looking for. It was in the seventy-third psalm, and it had been her foundation the last three years.
Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
She wasn’t alone as long as she had God, and she would continue to count on her Father to provide for her.
Lord, I’m just tired. I know that. Help me not to get my emotions in a tangle right now. I just need some peace...
Jane bent down and brushed Suzie’s hair away from her damp forehead. Her daughters deserved a better life than she could provide on her own, and she was grateful that God had prompted her late father-in-law to remember his granddaughters in his will. She didn’t need to find another husband to help provide for them. With that inheritance, Jane could do it on her own with pride. God had been listening to her prayers.
When Jane heard the sound of clanking pans from the kitchen, she knew that it was safe to get up and she put her Bible aside.
That morning, Jane helped Peg to clear out a shelf of old books from what had been a personal office. The room was cramped, and besides the bookshelves there were a few boxes, a desk with a clutter of paper and envelopes covering the surface and a filing cabinet in one corner. Most of the books they piled into cartons were paperbacks, a few were fishing manuals and a couple were old cookbooks that Peg said had belonged to Beau’s late wife. They boxed them up and carried them out to the black pickup truck that sat outside the house, piling box after box into the bed. The toddlers trailed after them, and as Jane loaded the last box—small, but heavy—Micha and Suzie squatted on the grass, poking at something with a twig.
“Our local library might want these,” Peg said. “They have a used book sale every year to raise money, so they could use them for that, too.”
“A life boiled down to library book sales and Goodwill runs,” Jane said. “Sobering, isn’t it?”
“My brother didn’t try real hard to endear himself to anyone,” Peg replied. “He was lonely, but it was his own fault. He was opinionated and figured anyone who disagreed with him was an idiot. That doesn’t make friends.”
“Was he always like that?” Jane asked.
“No...” Peg brushed some dust off the front of her shirt. “When we were young, he was different. He got more bitter with age. He was pretty miserable in his marriage, and when Sandra passed away, he only got more miserable.”
“Did everyone know it?” Jane asked. “How unhappy they were, I mean.”
“It was obvious,” Peg replied. “He’d never been terribly in love, at least not that I could tell. But he’d thought she’d be a good ranching wife—and she was! So to hold a grudge against her later for not stirring his heart to poetic heights seems petty to me. He could have been happy with her, if he’d just chosen to be. I was shocked she stayed with him. To live her whole married life unappreciated by her husband—seems like a waste of years, doesn’t it?”
Jane was forced to agree with that. “But she stayed...”
“She stayed. She didn’t believe in divorce.”
Micha and Suzie strayed a little further into the yard and Jane stood there watching them, feeling suddenly sad for these people she’d never met. Josh hadn’t talked much about his parents’ marriage. Maybe he’d just assumed it was normal. It might explain how distanced he’d been from her when he’d been struggling with his memories from war. She’d tried so hard to be the one he could open up to...
“Was Josh affected by their unhappiness?” she asked after a moment.
“You’d know better than me,” Peg replied.
He’d loved her—she knew that—but when he was upset about something, he’d pick fights. Life with Josh hadn’t been easy, and maybe his parents’ tumultuous marriage explained some of that.
“Well...they’re all with God now,” Jane said, swallowing a lump in her throat. Whatever problems they’d had in life were over.
Lunch that afternoon consisted of self-made sandwiches and a can of soup. The toddlers were perfectly happy with peanut butter and jam, and after cleaning up, it was time for their nap.
“Maybe I’ll just keep sorting through the office while the girls sleep,” Jane said.
“You sure you want to?” Peg asked. “You’ve earned a break, I’d say.”
“I’d rather keep my hands busy,” she admitted.
So the toddlers drifted off to sleep in the bedroom, Peg went outside to read in the shade and Jane stood in the center of that office with a cardboard box in one hand and her heart feeling heavy for the father-in-law she’d never properly met.
Beau Marshall had made his share of mistakes, it seemed, and the family he’d left behind had never properly forgiven him for them. Maybe he’d never wanted forgiveness, and they’d sensed that. Jane put the box down on the office chair and picked up some papers from the desktop. Some looked like old bills, others were doodles and notes he’d taken that meant nothing to her. Who knew if these papers would be necessary later for his taxes or something? So Jane gathered them up into a neat pile and started filling the box.
After a few minutes the desktop was clear, and she opened the side drawer. There were pens, paper clips, scraps of paper, broken elastic bands... Most of it was garbage, but deep in the back of the drawer, she pulled out a yellowed envelope.
Inside were a few old snapshots. They were all of Beau and Sandra, by the looks of them. The photos started out with them as a couple in their early forties, both looking serious and some distance between them, but as she worked her way through the pile, the couple got younger and the distance between them shrank; sometimes they were even touching each other in some way. The last photo was their wedding picture, and she was amazed by how much her own husband had looked like his father. Beau and Josh could have been
twins in Beau’s younger years—the chiseled jaw, the bright red hair, the ice-blue eyes...
And in that wedding picture, Sandra had looked blissful. Just as blissful as Jane had looked on her own wedding day marrying their son. She flipped through the other photos again, looking at those aging faces, and her heart hammered in her throat.
“Would that have been me?” she whispered to herself. If Josh had lived, and if she’d stuck with him because she didn’t believe in divorce any more than his mother had...would she have been the sad woman next to a bitter man? Would this have been their future?
Jane sighed, and as she tucked the pictures away she saw a handwritten note. She pulled it out, but before she even saw the signature she knew it was Josh’s writing:
Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.
Only that. So their son had collected those pictures. Maybe he’d hoped to do something more with them, and to Beau’s credit, he had kept them in his desk. Or shoved them there. For whatever reason, a couple that had started out happily enough had turned chilly and distant.
What would a marriage like Beau and Sandra’s do to the children? If Josh and Jane had ended up the same way, what would it have done to the girls? It was an awful thought, and she shivered in spite of the warmth.
Maybe it was better not to dwell on what-ifs.
Jane opened the next drawer. This one was more cluttered, and she pulled out a tattered old map, a half-full box of tissues, a few different pads of writing paper, a box of staples... And underneath it all, a handle of some sort glimmered in the light. She reached down and grabbed it, pulling up a pearl-handled handgun. She looked down at it in shock. It was awfully tarnished. If Beau had antiques, why didn’t he take better care of them?
A sound behind her startled her, she spun around, the gun still in her hand and she saw Colt in the doorway, a surprised look on his face. He raised his hands slowly.
“You want to put that thing down?” he asked, his tone low but cautious.
“Sorry.” She put it onto the desk with a short laugh. “Do you think it’s loaded?”
Her Twins' Cowboy Dad (Montana Twins Book 2) Page 8