Heart of Trust (Hearts of the West, #1)

Chapter 3

Darkness.

Deep, deep darkness.

Why did everything hurt? Why couldn’t he move? Where was he?

He forced open eyelids that were much, much heavier than they should be. A faint blur hung over the room—his and Georgia’s bedroom—and Georgia sat in a chair beside him, a book held open in front of her.

Dryness plagued his mouth. “What...?” The single word emerged as no more than a croak.

Pitiful.

She startled, lifted her head, and set the book down. “How are you feeling?”

Feeling? Like those twenty head of cattle had stampeded straight over him. “What’s going on?”

She blinked, and her brow furrowed. Deep shadows hung beneath her reddened eyes. She rested a hand on his upper arm. “You were beaten.”

Jensen.

The surname wove through his brain.

A big desk. Too many threats. Then pain as Jensen’s men had beaten him again.

“Yes.” He eased out a breath that rattled against his abused ribs. “I remember that much.”

She pressed her lips together. Lips that trembled a little.

He’d failed her. He’d done nothing to the men who’d hurt her. He’d done worse than nothing. He’d gotten himself beaten up badly enough that he couldn’t protect her if one of Jensen’s men walked through the door right now.

“How long have I been back?”

She blinked again, the motion slow. “It’s almost morning. You’ve been sleeping most of the time, but you woke up a few times. You probably don’t remember it.”

A blur. A blur of words that should hold more meaning. A blur of pain.

He swallowed against a throat that was desert dry. “I need some water.”

She lifted a cup from the night table and helped him take a few swallows. The water stung in the cuts in his mouth and what had to be a split in his lip. “Somebody found me. Slung me over a horse and brought me here. Who?”

She glanced down. “Dalton.”

The man showed up a little too often.

“What’d he say?” And what had motivated him to help?

“He said he found you near Jensen’s property. Then he said his offer to buy us out still stands. I told him we wanted nothing to do with his offer.”

Something wasn’t right—and it wasn’t just the fact that he was lying in bed with a bunch of bruises. “Why won’t you look at me?”

She slowly lifted her head. “I thought he was the one who hurt you. I’m afraid I...attacked him.”

He tensed, and agony reverberated through too much of him. “Did he hurt you?”

She gave her head a slight shake and winced. “No. He merely immobilized me. I acted like a fool.”

He tilted his head toward her. Not a good idea given the pounding that took up residence in his skull. “Glad he didn’t hurt you.”

But that didn’t mean they were selling out to Dalton. Or to Jensen. Or to anybody else who wanted this land. Their means of intimidation would get them nowhere.

He could’ve been killed.

She leaned forward in the chair she’d pulled close to the bed and rested her throbbing head in her hands.

What were they going to do? Jake had been beaten, and they now had two men vying for control of the ranch.

Dalton—despite the fact that he’d brought Jake home—wasn’t to be trusted. His standing offer to buy the ranch proved that much.

And Jensen...

He might send his men to terrorize them at any point.

Please, God, help us.

The mattress squeaked, and she lifted her head from her hands.

Jake stared up at her, face swollen, scraped, and bruising.

She worked a slight smile to her lips. “How’re you feeling?”

“Rough.” He dragged his tongue across his battered lips. “You need to sleep.”

“I slept a little.” Not much given the discomfort of the chair, the nightmares that encroached, and the headache. “Besides, it’s morning.”

A fact that the sun pouring through the window proclaimed quite clearly.

Bringing up all that had happened wouldn’t help anything. Jake needed worry-free rest—if such a thing were possible—to heal.

Yet in all likelihood, he was already pondering his next steps.

She eased from the chair. “Does oatmeal sound good for breakfast? You need to eat something.”

As did she if her stomach would cooperate.

His eyes drifted shut.

Oatmeal it was.

She slipped from the bedroom, got the cookstove going, and set a pot of water to boiling.

Please don’t let there be any more trouble today.

They needed time to rest, heal, and decide what they were going to do. But it wasn’t likely Dalton and Jensen thought the same.

Best to strike while the target was weakened and disoriented.

Whatever happens, please keep us safe and help me to trust You.

She added the oats and a pinch of salt to the boiling water.

The rifle sat by the door, and Jake’s revolver—which had been in his holster by some miracle when Dalton had brought him home—rested on the night table.

Yet weapons or no weapons, Jake wasn’t any match for multiple well-armed men if those men decided to come gunning for them.

The mattress creaked, and she hurried to their bedroom doorway.

Jake sat on the side of the bed, arms clutched to his ribs.

She crossed the few steps to his side. “You should lie down.”

“There’s chores to take care of.”

He hadn’t even been able to walk on his own last night. “I can take care of the horses.” She did a lot of the time anyway. “And the cattle are fine on their own.”

His shoulders rose and fell.

“It’s going to be very hard for me to get you back inside if you fall while you’re out in the barn. I promise I can take care of the horses. I enjoy taking care of them.”

Yes, her head throbbed, but that was a small inconvenience compared to the pain he had to be in.

She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Please lie back down. The oatmeal should be ready in a few minutes, and I’ll bring it in here.”

Ever so slowly, he inched down onto the mattress, face wreathed with pain.

No, he wouldn’t rest for as many days as he needed to, but for now, he could relax and heal.

In the time it took for her eyes to quit stinging, she dished up two bowls of oatmeal and carried them into the bedroom.

After helping him prop against the wall, she handed him one of the bowls and a spoon.

He gave the oatmeal a stir, looked up at her, then glanced back down. “This sure is a mess.”

No, talking about it wouldn’t help anything. “How dare you speak so poorly of my oatmeal.”

His lips didn’t so much as twitch. “Maybe we should’ve stayed in Tennessee.”

How did she reply to that? Despite what he’d just said, he wouldn’t give in to Dalton’s or Jensen’s demands. “They might...leave us alone now.” Which was far from likely.

He took a bite of oatmeal.

No, that comment didn’t deserve a response.

Her stomach churned despite the fact that she hadn’t yet eaten a bite. “We’ll make it.” Hollow, stale words that offered no reassurance. “We always have before.”

He spooned another bite into his mouth. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Much, much more than tired. “I know.” She set her bowl on the night table and rested her hand on his forearm.

He lowered the spoon into the bowl. “Once they see we won’t give up so easily, they’ll back off.”

If only she could believe that.

He offered her a weak smile. “I can’t believe you tried to beat up Dalton.”

Heat flamed up her neck and settled in her face.

He would bring that up, if only to try to infuse a little humor into the situation. Maybe someday she’d be able to laugh at her foolish actions, but today wasn’t the day. And tomorrow wouldn’t be either.

What had she been thinking? Better yet, why hadn’t she thought? It wasn’t like her to lose control in such a way.

The throbbing in her head multiplied. “I’m having a hard time believing it as well. I don’t suppose I can blame the knock on the head.”

Best to keep things light—even if such things were no laughing matter.

He frowned. “How is your head?”

“Fine.” He didn’t need to worry about her more than he likely already was.

His frown deepened. “Tell the truth.”

“The truth is that it’s fine. I merely have a headache that will go away soon.” And it wasn’t the kind of headache that would keep her from staying on top of the chores.

He nodded to her bowl of oatmeal then winced. “You need to eat.”

She lifted her hand from his arm, picked up the bowl, and managed a bite. A bite that sent her stomach into a spasm of tossing and turning.

A couple of breaths kept the bite where it needed to be.

Please, Lord. Please keep us safe.

Four days and no sign of danger.

She should be thanking God for such a thing instead of pacing the house.

Yet all the outside chores she could handle were complete. Soup simmered on the stove. The mending basket sat empty in the corner. The floor was swept, and the wash hung on the line to dry.

She stilled beside the table and rested her hands on the cool wood.

What she could do was check on Jake. But in all likelihood, he slept.

She crossed to the bedroom door and braced one shoulder against the doorframe.

He lay still, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in an even pattern. Despite the bruises and cuts marring his face, his features were relaxed and peaceful.

If only she had a small measure of that peace.

She sank into the chair beside the bed, leaned over, and brushed a kiss to an uninjured place on his forehead.

This new life of theirs was supposed to have been a dream come true. Instead, it’d become a nightmare.

The years during and after the war had been hard, but they’d been nothing like this. During those years, there’d been the excitement of coming to love Jake, of marrying him, of running their Tennessee farm together.

Yes, she’d worried about him when he’d been away at war. Yes, there’d been trouble with the Yankees after the war. But none of that compared to Dalton’s and Jensen’s threats.

Minutes crept along, marked by the changing patterns of sunlight on the floor and the breeze blowing the curtains.

Please give me strength. I’m tired. I’m afraid. I don’t know what’s going to happen.

No, that wasn’t anything new. But the future stood more ominous than ever.

Jake stirred, blinked his eyes open, and frowned. “You let me sleep too late.”

How could she not have done such a thing when rest helped him heal? “It’s all right.”

He raised both eyebrows then winced. “I slept the day away.”

“There’s still plenty of day left.” She tipped her head to the window.

“You’re out of your mind. It’s late afternoon.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you need to sleep some more. You’re rather grumpy.” She gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “How’re you feeling?”

He eased into a sitting position, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. “Stiff and sore.”

That was to be expected after the beating he’d taken.

“We can eat in an hour or so if you’d like.”

“That sounds good to me.” He studied her, forehead creased. “You’re wearing yourself out.”

She found a laugh. “That’s not very complimentary. You’re supposed to tell me I look beautiful.”

One side of his mouth tugged up. “You do. But you need sleep.”

True. Sleep that every single off sound didn’t interrupt. Sleep that didn’t leave her gasping for breath and covered in sweat. Sleep from which she didn’t wake up with her stomach churning.

“Tonight will be better.” Too bad she couldn’t know that for sure. Too bad she couldn’t be positive Dalton or Jensen wouldn’t arrive with their men and wreak havoc.

She combed a strand of hair back from her face.

God, I’m afraid. I’m trying to trust You. I know You’re sovereign. I know You love me. But I’m scared.

Jake caught her hand in his. “You’re thinking too much.”

Why did it have to be so obvious? “I know.”

“Dalton and Jensen, sure, they’re powerful. But they’re not bigger and stronger than God.”

“I know.” Oh, did her voice have to be so dull and lifeless?

He cocked his head. “You think we should sell out?”

“No.” Never that. “Sometimes I wish we’d never come out here, but I don’t want to sell out. That would be giving in to them. That would be almost like saying they’re right for threatening us. It’d be like agreeing with them. And I don’t want to do that.”

His features turned hard. “I’m done surrendering to greedy tyrants.”

That fully described both Jensen and Dalton.

“Maybe it’s pride. Maybe I’m too stubborn for my own good. But if I have any say about it, they’re not getting this ranch.”

The thunder of hoofbeats gave way to the squeaking of saddle leather.

Jake swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Give me strength.

Strength he didn’t have.

He grabbed his revolver from the crate they used as a night table and shoved to his feet. The room swirled into shades of brown.

Hands grasped his upper arms, and his vision cleared.

Georgia stared back at him, her face devoid of color and her eyes wide. “Don’t go out there. Please.” She glanced toward the window. “Maybe they’ll leave.” Her voice trailed away, as if she realized the futility of her words.

He shoved the revolver into his waistband and pulled away from her hold.

“Please don’t go.”

He had to deal with this.

Legs much too unsteady, he crossed to the front door then stepped onto the porch.

Jensen sat astride a coal black stallion, dust still swirling around him. Six of his men accompanied him, rifles propped on their laps.

“It looks like you’ve had a rough time, Aymes.”

The man would know. He’d ordered it.

Jensen slid one hand along the edge of his coat and pushed the garment to the side. A worn holster held an equally worn revolver at his hip. “I hope you’ve given our conversation some thought.”

Threats. Always more threats.

He leaned against one of the posts supporting the porch roof. “Get off my property.”

A plume of dust hovered about fifty yards away, signaling the approach of another rider.

How much more trouble did he need?

Any congeniality slipped from Jensen’s face. “Answer me.”

“You heard me. Get out of here.” He wasn’t giving in to threats, wasn’t letting this man take what he’d paid for fair and square.

Jensen could bluster all he wanted.

Dalton galloped into the ranch yard and dismounted before bringing his horse to a complete stop.

This was all he needed. Jenson—and now Dalton.

Jensen’s mount sidestepped, but the man regained control of the animal.

Jensen nodded, his expression almost thoughtful. “If you’re smart, you’ll get off this land before I have to make you.”

Dalton strode forward. “You try, Jensen. You try. But I’ll be here waitin’ for you.”

What was Dalton up to now?

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jensen whirled his stallion around, pulling the horse’s front feet from the ground. “C’mon, boys.”

Jensen and his men galloped away, leaving him with Dalton. Dalton—who had way too much up his sleeve.

“What do you want?” Heaviness meandered through his legs, but Dalton wasn’t going to know about it. The man had seen him weak too much.

Dalton gave a wry smile. “I’ll give it to you straight. I want to run my herd on this land. I don’t have to own it, but I want to use it. You let me do that, and I’ll stop Jensen’s threats.”

“No.”

Dalton didn’t want to run his herd on this land. He wanted the land—all of it.

And if he gave Dalton what he wanted, he’d be doing nothing more than replacing the tyranny of the Yankees with the tyranny of a cattle baron.

Jensen wanted to take their land by a show of force, but Dalton would claim it inch by inch, month by month. Sure, the man might give them freedom at first, but he’d never be satisfied until he alone owned the land.

Sharpness gleamed in Dalton’s eyes, but he stood motionless. “Get out before you get in more trouble than you can handle.”

If only she could say or do something to ease the weight that surely rested on Jake’s shoulders.

He sat at the table, oiled rifle before him, hand resting on the stock, and stared at nothing.

Maybe he repeated Jensen’s and Dalton’s threats over and over in his mind. Maybe he planned their next steps. But he shared none of it with her.

She tossed both pails of dishwater outside then returned them to their place by the wall.

Yes, they’d had a few days without threats, but those days were long past.

She pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “Can I do anything?”

He started then glanced up at her. “Guess it is getting late. You should go to bed.”

“You’re not going to bed?”

He shook his head and winced. “I’m gonna make sure neither of them try anything tonight. I don’t think they will, but better safe than sorry.”

He’d run himself right into exhaustion like that. “You’re still recovering. You need your rest. We have the windows open. You’d hear if there were trouble.”

Please don’t let there be trouble.

He let out a hard breath. “You’re right.”

If only she could reassure him in some way. But she couldn’t promise him Dalton or Jensen wouldn’t try to intimidate them in some new way. If she could’ve done that, she would’ve days ago.

What she had to do was be calm. Jake didn’t need to have to worry about comforting her and calming her down when he had a hundred other things on his mind.

She leaned in close and lightly rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead then claimed her lips.

Forgetting about Jensen and Dalton for a few moments would hurt nothing.

He eased back, a slight smile playing across his lips. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

True—in one way or another.

She returned her head to his shoulder. “We really should go to bed.” Yet heaviness had invaded her legs, and Jake and the chair were a little too comfortable. Besides, the longer she stayed up, the longer she’d avoid staring at the darkened ceiling or falling into a nightmare.

Then again, Jake needed his sleep. He’d been so unsteady on his feet when Jensen had arrived.

“Might as well sit up for a few minutes.”

And maybe in those few minutes she could pretend that there’d been no beating, no threats. That there were no greedy ranchers. That she and Jake were merely dealing with the struggles of starting a new ranch.

Yet that wasn’t reality.

“I found out from Jensen’s men that the sheriff is Jensen’s nephew. That’s why I haven’t gotten him involved.”

So much for ignoring reality. But she couldn’t expect Jake to stop thinking about everything.

“There’s no one else who could help? No people in town who could do anything?” True, she was throwing out ideas, but one of them could stick.

He shook his head, his chin brushing the side of her head. “Nobody in town is gonna want to go up against Dalton or Jensen. They’ve got too many men on their side.”

“What about U.S. Marshals or Texas Rangers?”

“They’ve got a lot bigger problems to handle than helping out a small-time rancher.”

Weight stretched across her shoulders. Couldn’t she forget about any of this for a few minutes? Talking and thinking about it wouldn’t solve the problem with Jensen and Dalton. Yet she also couldn’t go through life ignoring it.

She straightened and combed a few loose hairs behind her ear.

The lantern hanging above the table threw patterns of light and shadow on the log wall, and wind whistled outside.

Chills rippled up her spine.

She had to stop letting her nerves get the best of her.

Lord, help me. Help me to trust You. Help me to glorify You in this.

But how?

Jake gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry. You didn’t want to talk about all that.”

He knew her so well. “I know it’s on your mind, but I would appreciate a break from talking and thinking about it.” If such a thing were possible.

He gave a slow nod. “Let’s go sit on the porch.”

Some fresh air would help.

He shut off the lantern then trudged outside, leaving the door open for her.

A few steps brought her outside, and she lowered herself beside him on the porch step.

A sliver of moon hung in the darkened sky along with a multitude of stars. A few clouds stood above the horizon, and a breeze stirred her hair.

Peaceful.

If only such peace could last.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Yes, if only this could last.

Dalton and Jensen should be well down the list of things he thought about given the beautiful woman sitting beside him.

Yet he was responsible for her safety, and Dalton and Jensen threatened that safety.

Wouldn’t she have been safer if they’d stayed in Tennessee? What if he’d put her in danger by bringing her out here?

She shifted against him. “You’re quiet.”

Because she didn’t want to talk about the two cowards.

He ran his hand up and down her arm, ribs throbbing. “It’s a nice night.”

That was pitiful. Not anywhere near engaging conversation. But Georgia needed him to talk about something else.

“It is.” She took a deep breath. “It even smells different than Tennessee.”

If he hadn’t taken them from Tennessee, they wouldn’t be facing Dalton and Jensen. Still, he’d committed far too much to give in at the slightest threat. And he wasn’t about to surrender to Jensen’s and Dalton’s greedy ways.

Even if every breath fanned the pain in his ribs and in the old wound in his side.

He pressed a kiss to Georgia’s temple. “You’re quiet.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Now you’re repeating what I said.”

At least it’d gotten a laugh out of her. Such a thing had been rare ever since they’d come out here.

Yet it wouldn’t always be like that. He’d find a way to put Dalton and Jensen back in their places. He’d find a way to make this ranch profitable.

God, please give me wisdom.

“Are you not afraid? You’ve seen what they’ve done. They could’ve killed you. They’re ruthless.”

She wanted to talk about it after all. Or, more likely, she couldn’t get it off her mind.

“If they wanted me dead, they’d have already done that. They’re trying to get me to run. That’s what they’re doing.”

“Maybe” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “I know you don’t want to sell to Dalton or Jensen, but maybe you could sell... No. That wouldn’t work. We couldn’t put someone else in this position.”

No, he wouldn’t trick someone the way the previous owner had tricked them. And he sure wasn’t going to sell out to either Jensen or Dalton.

Yet...

Should I leave? Is it pride keeping me here?

This situation would be a hundred times easier if he weren’t conflicted in his own mind.

But despite what Jensen and Dalton had said, why would they throw money at him when they could attain the property they wanted through force?

That would leave him and Georgia without anywhere to go and very little money. Yes, their families back in Tennessee wouldn’t turn them away if they made it back there, but their families didn’t have the funds to support them.

She pressed closer to him.

Pain expanded through his ribs, and he clenched his teeth. No need to make her feel bad. All she wanted was comfort.

He again rubbed her arm. “We’ll make it through.”

A sentiment that likely sounded empty to her.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t done anything but get them in this mess in the first place.

He struggled to his feet, dizziness toying with him. “Must be time for bed.”

Morning—and all the troubles it could bring—would come all too soon.