A Tender Hope

by Amanda Cabot

  “That I’m wrong. That what I feel isn’t love. That it’ll fade the way Daniel’s feelings for me did.” She’d begun to bare her heart. Though she wanted to stop before the pain became too intense, she could not. She owed Jackson a complete explanation. “It hurt me. It hurt me terribly to know that his love had died. I can’t do it, Jackson. I can’t take the risk of hurting you that way.”

  He was silent for a moment, as if he needed time to digest what she’d said. “What if Daniel’s love didn’t die? What if he didn’t break his vows?”

  “What do you mean?” Thea couldn’t imagine why Jackson was asking those questions. He’d never met Daniel, and nothing he’d learned at the orphanage would have led him to that conclusion. “I smelled the perfume on his shirts. Every time Daniel went to San Antonio, he came back with another woman’s scent on his clothes. What other explanation could there be?”

  Jackson tightened his grip on her hands, perhaps fearing she would pull away. “It’s possible that he met a woman when he bought things for the store, but I believe that was just a pretext and that the real reason he traveled was to meet the rest of the Gang for another heist.”

  “You said that before, but how does it explain the perfume?”

  A gust of wind rattled the windows, reminding Thea that there was a world outside the kitchen, even though Jackson remained focused on the story he was telling.

  “We know one of the members of the Gang is a woman. I believe it’s her perfume. It’s possible she and your husband worked together to load the booty onto their horses. If so, they could have been close enough to each other that her scent would have transferred to his shirt. Jacob Whitfield told me that particular perfume is too strong for most women.”

  And that raised another question. “Why would someone wear perfume when she was robbing stagecoaches? I thought you said that she dressed like a man and that your brother was the first to notice that she was a woman.”

  Jackson shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense to me, either, but I can tell you that whoever ransacked Helen Bradford’s house wore the same scent as Mrs. Allen.”

  “How do you know what perfume Belinda Allen wears?” It was a silly question. What Jackson had just revealed had challenged Thea’s beliefs about her husband, and all she could do was ask how he’d learned the name of a perfume.

  If Jackson thought the question odd, he gave no sign. “Jacob Whitfield at the mercantile ordered it for her. He let me sniff it, and it was definitely what I smelled at the Bradfords’ house. I may be wrong, but my instincts tell me your husband loved you and that he didn’t break his vows.”

  Jackson managed a small smile as he said, “My parents told me true love doesn’t die. I know they had their share of problems, but even during the rough times, their love didn’t fade. I don’t believe yours would, either.”

  Thea tried but failed to match his smile. “I want to believe that.” Her thoughts were whirling faster than leaves in a storm as she considered everything Jackson had said. There was no question that Daniel had lied about many things, but if what Jackson said was true, and she had no reason to doubt it, it was possible Daniel’s love had not wavered. If that was true, then maybe her fears had been unfounded. Maybe Jackson’s parents were right and love did not die. Maybe what she felt for Jackson would endure. Maybe. Thea’s head spun with the possibilities.

  “I need more time,” she said slowly. “Until I’m sure about my feelings, I can’t let you risk your heart.”

  Though he made no effort to hide his disappointment, Jackson nodded. “Then I’ll wait.”

  33

  How do you know if you’re really in love?” Thea gulped as the words emerged from her mouth. She’d spent the last twenty minutes with Lydia and her babies, ensuring that all three were doing well and that the twins’ progress was normal for their age. This was supposed to be a professional visit, not a discussion of the questions that haunted Thea: Was she in love with Jackson, and if she was, would that love last?

  It wasn’t a question she would ask Aimee. Her friend believed in the coup de foudre and that you’d know love, because it came like a lightning strike. Lightning had not struck Thea—not the day she met Jackson, nor any day since then. Instead, what she felt for him had been more like a newly planted flower seed, invisible at first, then emerging as a tiny seedling, growing almost imperceptibly each day until it opened in a glorious blossom. What worried her was that flowers faded and shed their petals. Would her feelings do the same?

  She had lain awake last night, memories of the day tumbling through her mind like the designs on a kaleidoscope. The feeling of homecoming she’d experienced at the Goddard ranch, Jackson’s disappointment when she’d refused his proposal, the undeniable happiness on Aimee’s face when she and Nate had returned from the apothecary to announce their engagement.

  It had been a day of extremes—extreme happiness contrasted with the heart-wrenching knowledge that she had caused Jackson pain.

  “It seems that everyone’s talking about love.” Lydia’s blue eyes glistened as she cradled her son. While his sister had fallen asleep once Thea had completed her examination, Vernon was wide awake. “Just last night Travis told me having children made him realize how much he loved me and that it was more than he’d dreamt possible.”

  She raised her eyes and glanced toward the room where Grace was still asleep, exhausted by her journey and the drama of the past few days. “You should have seen Grace when Aimee and Nate shared their news with her. I’ve never seen such unbridled love on a person’s face. She was positively glowing.”

  Thea nodded. Though Aimee had said that her mother was happy, she had not shared the details of the time she and Nate had spent with Grace.

  Lydia chuckled. “Love is definitely in the air, but I’m not the one to tell you how to identify it. The person you should be asking is Catherine. She’s the one who explained stolen hearts to me.”

  “Stolen hearts?” What did they have to do with love?

  Lydia’s expression was serious as she placed Vernon back in his bed. “Did you know that I was engaged to someone else before I married Travis?”

  Thea gasped at the unexpected revelation. Though she had known her only a few months, it was almost impossible to believe that Lydia had loved another man. “If you were trying to shock me,” she said after she’d caught her breath, “you did. It’s obvious to anyone who spends more than a minute with you that you and Travis are deeply in love. I never would have imagined you loving someone else.”

  Lydia looked up from her sleeping daughter. “It wasn’t the same kind of love, but I didn’t realize that at the beginning. I was so confused, trying to make sense of what I felt for Travis. That’s when Catherine shared her mother’s wisdom. She said that sometimes you give your heart to a man. That’s one kind of love. But sometimes a man steals your heart. That’s the kind of love that endures.”

  “And Travis stole your heart.”

  “He did indeed, and if I’m not mistaken, Jackson has stolen yours.”

  Had he? Thea wasn’t certain. All she knew was that what she felt for Jackson was very different from her feelings for Daniel.

  Jackson took a quick breath as he strode from the livery after grooming Blaze. His horse was fine, but he was not. How could he be when the woman he loved was still in danger? He’d told Captain Rawlins that he expected the Gang to make another move and that it was simply a matter of waiting. The problem was, he wasn’t good at waiting, especially now that he was also waiting for Thea to sort out her feelings.

  When Pa had told him a man would never fully understand how a woman’s mind worked, Jackson hadn’t paid much attention, because there’d been no special woman in his life. Now there was, and the truth of Pa’s words hit him with the force of a speeding freight train. He might not understand Thea, but Jackson knew that he needed to find the Gang, because only then could he devote himself to wooing Thea properly.

  That was why he’d spent
the day searching for the remaining Gang members, a task at which he’d failed. Even though he now knew that at least one of the Michener brothers had a jagged scar on his forehead, that hadn’t helped. No one in Cimarron Creek or any of the nearby towns had seen a man like that or a tall female stranger.

  As he entered Warner’s house, Jackson faced the unpleasant reality that he had no leads.

  “I wondered when you’d get back.” Unlike Jackson, Warner seemed to be in a good mood. He was standing next to the stove, stirring something that smelled delicious, a broad smile creasing his face, his eyes no longer radiating sorrow.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “You sure did. Rachel Henderson’s been running around town, handing out invitations. She was mighty disappointed that she couldn’t give you yours.” Warner pulled an ivory envelope from his pocket. “Here you go.”

  Jackson stared at the envelope. Though his parents had been invited to numerous events when he’d been growing up, not once had they received a written invitation. “What’s she inviting me to?”

  “A party. Rachel’s tickled pink that her brother is getting married, so she’s throwing a big shindig at her house. She says it’s going to be almost as fancy as the party my great-aunt had for Lydia and Travis. That’s why she wrote out all those invitations instead of just telling folks when it was going to take place.”

  Jackson didn’t care about parties, especially fancy ones, but he did care about the first part of Warner’s speech. It was the best news he’d heard all day. “Nate finally did it? He asked Aimee to marry him?” After weeks of watching Nate dither, Jackson hadn’t been certain he would ever muster the courage to open his heart to Aimee, even though he clearly wanted to.

  “Yep.” Warner nodded. “And she said yes.”

  “I’ve got to admit that I’m surprised, but I’m happy for both of them.”

  Warner replaced the lid on the saucepan and turned back to face Jackson. “I hope you’ll be happy for me too. Patience agreed to be my wife.”

  His face wore a look of wonder, as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. Though he hadn’t said much, Jackson knew that Warner had feared his family’s history would make women wary of him. Jackson was glad that Patience had seen beyond the tragedies and recognized that Warner would be a good husband and father.

  With two quick steps, Jackson reached his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Warner. She’s a fine woman.”

  The words were sincere—he was happy for both Nate and Warner—but Jackson could not ignore the fact that while all his friends in Cimarron Creek were either married or engaged, the woman he loved had turned him down. Twice.

  “’Bout time you got here.” Angus Harris made no attempt to hide his displeasure as Jackson helped Thea dismount from the buggy. “Ethel needs you. Her pains done started.”

  Forcing herself to keep a smile on her face despite the man’s obvious disgruntlement, Thea nodded. It was true that she was later than normal today. Stuart had been fussy all morning and had screamed when she’d tried to leave him with Widow Jenkins, although he’d quieted the instant Thea held him.

  Realizing that he had reached the stage where he craved the security of being held by the woman he considered his mother, Thea had kept him in her arms as she and Jackson headed for the livery. And, because he’d thrown a tantrum when Jackson tried to hold him, she’d relinquished the reins to Jackson and had spent the ride to the Harris ranch holding Stuart.

  Fortunately, Maggie had either sensed the gravity of the situation or had grown accustomed to Jackson’s presence and had responded to his commands. Within minutes, Stuart had fallen asleep. His tantrum must have exhausted him, because even Angus Harris’s angry words did not wake him.

  “I’m here now.” Thea doubted the words would placate Angus, but they were all she could offer. He wasn’t her patient; Ethel was. She grabbed her bag from the back of the buggy and rushed into the house. While first babies normally took their time arriving, Thea had no way of knowing when Ethel’s pains had begun.

  She found her patient lying on her bed, her face contorted with either pain or anger. “You gotta help me,” the expectant mother shrieked. “Them pains hurt somethin’ horrible.”

  First-time mothers, Thea had found, fell into two categories—those who were shocked by the intensity of their contractions, and those who’d heard tales of excruciating pain and were pleasantly surprised when theirs were not so severe. Ethel was definitely a member of the first group.

  “When did the contractions begin?”

  “About a half hour ago.”

  Thea wouldn’t tell Ethel that this was just the beginning and that the pain would increase exponentially before it ended. “Let me check you. I want to see how far along you are.”

  “Gonna be any minute now.”

  “Mmm.” Thea made her voice noncommittal. As she’d suspected, Ethel was in the first stage of labor. It would be more than a minute before her baby made its arrival.

  “Let’s get you up. Walking will help.”

  Ethel’s eyes widened in what appeared to be shock. “Walkin’? I ain’t never heard of delivering a baby standin’ up.”

  “You won’t do that,” Thea assured her. “Your baby isn’t ready yet. Come on. I want you to walk back and forth. It’ll help the pain.” And give Ethel something to think about other than her contractions.

  As the woman reluctantly complied, grumbling with each step she took, Thea turned toward the door.

  “Where you goin’? You gotta stay here with me.”

  Thea nodded. “There’s one thing I have to do. Then I’ll be right back.”

  When she descended the porch steps, she found Jackson walking around the buggy, a still-sleeping Stuart in his arms.

  “How is she?” Jackson asked as Thea approached him.

  “Hours away from delivery. I’ll be surprised if the baby arrives before midnight.” She girded herself for what she expected to be an unpleasant afternoon and evening listening to Ethel complain about each pain. “Will you take Stuart home? This is no place for him.”

  Thea knew how Ethel would react if she put Stuart in the cradle she’d prepared for her own child, and while Jackson could care for him, Aimee would wonder where he and Thea were.

  Furrows formed between Jackson’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

  Though Thea shared Jackson’s fears, it was not as if she would be alone. “I’ll be safe. Angus will make sure of that.”

  As if on cue, the man emerged from the barn, a shotgun in his hand.

  Jackson nodded, though he was clearly dubious. “I’ll talk to him, and then we’ll make a decision.” He handed Stuart to Thea and marched toward the still-angry rancher. A minute later, he returned. “Angus said he’ll keep the varmints away. I hope he’s as good a shot as he claims.”

  “Ethel keeps bragging that he’s the best marksman in the county. You haven’t seen the inside of the house, but they’ve got a lot of game heads hanging on the walls, and they never seem to be short of meat. He may not be as good a sharpshooter as you, but Angus is good.”

  Thea looked down at the child in her arms. “I’m more worried about having Stuart in a familiar setting than I am about staying here.”

  “All right.” Jackson’s reluctance was evident. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t take any chances.”

  “I won’t, and you don’t need to rush.” Thea pressed a kiss on Stuart’s forehead. “Ethel has already made it clear that she expects me to spend every minute at her side. The biggest danger I’ll be in is losing my temper with her.”

  As Thea had hoped, Jackson cracked a smile as he took Stuart from her and laid him on the buggy floor. Though the baby wouldn’t be able to see anything there, he also wouldn’t be in danger of falling if Jackson made a sudden turn or stop.

  Thea reached out and touched Jackson’s hand before he climbed into the carriage. “Don’t worry. We’ll all be fine.”
r />   34

  Don’t worry. It was one thing for Thea to say it, another for him to follow through. No matter what he told himself, Jackson couldn’t stop worrying, especially when he’d returned to Cimarron Creek and learned that Travis had been looking for him.

  “Glad you got my message.” Travis rose from behind his desk and reached for his hat. “Ben Fowler sent me a telegram,” he said, referring to the sheriff of a nearby town. “Claims someone saw two men and a woman heading for an abandoned ranch about ten miles north of here. Thought it might be the Gang.”

  And so, though his heart urged him to return to the Harris ranch and Thea, Jackson saddled Blaze and rode in the opposite direction, refusing Travis’s offer to accompany him. He’d lost a brother and had a partner severely wounded by the Gang; he wouldn’t add Travis to the list of their victims.

  It was simple to find the ranch and even simpler to confirm that the Gang had indeed been staying there. There was no mistaking that perfume or the gouges in the wall where an apparently furious Charity James had vented her anger. But the tumbledown house was now empty, leaving Jackson no closer to his quarry than he’d been at the beginning of the day.

  Discouraged and anxious to see Thea again, he headed back to Cimarron Creek. If he was fortunate, by the time he reached the Harris ranch, Ethel would have had her baby and Thea would be ready to go home.

  He’d just crossed the bridge when he spotted two strangers entering the Silver Spur. The moon, more than half full tonight, revealed two men of medium height, medium weight, probably sporting medium brown hair.

  His hackles rising, Jackson hitched Blaze in front of the saloon, confident that one of these men also sported a jagged scar. This was the break he needed.

  “Evening, Faith.”

  “Evening, Red.” The proprietor of the Silver Spur touched her auburn hair, then grinned. Jackson kept his face neutral, but inside he rejoiced at the fact that Faith had given him that nickname, saying that two redheads had to stick together. It was far better that she referred to him as Red rather than Ranger, especially tonight.