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

Chapter 5

Jake wound a strip of linen around Georgia’s raw palm, hands still unsteady.

They’d lost only the barn. The house had been spared. They were both safe and unharmed for the most part. He’d gotten the horses out. And, as he’d told Georgia, they could rebuild.

They would rebuild. Whoever had done this wouldn’t win.

He lowered her hand into her lap and wiped a smudge of soot from her cheek. Despite her obvious fear, she’d done what needed to be done, pulling bucket after bucket of water from the well so he could douse the flames fueled by coal oil.

“Wh-who would do something like that?”

She knew as well as he did. “Jensen. He didn’t bother to hide it. Two sets of tracks led from the back of the barn toward his ranch.” The man wanted them to know.

He slapped his palm against his thigh. “I’m riding over there.”

A sharp cough jerked from her. “No. You can’t. He’ll kill you. You can’t leave me.”

How could he leave her, knowing he might never come back? Yet how could he allow Jensen to continue terrorizing them? “I’m not going just yet. I’ve got to round up the horses. That’ll take most of the day.”

Maybe fighting Jensen wasn’t worth it, but he sure wasn’t selling out to the man.

He ran a hand through his hair.

The Yankees had ruined his country. Now Dalton and Jensen were trying to run him off his land. But he was done running, done giving in to bullies.

“Jake?” Georgia’s questioning voice hung in the air as he settled his hat on his head.

“Come to think of it, I probably won’t have to go to Jensen. He’ll come here. A man like him takes pride in intimidation. He’ll be out in a day or two to see how we’re faring.” He pulled open the door and let in a smoke-tainted breeze. “For now, let’s go find those horses. They won’t have gone far.”

She was likely as tired as he was, but he couldn’t leave her here alone after Jensen had torched the barn.

He helped her to her feet.

She motioned to her soot-stained nightgown. “I need to go change first. And maybe we could eat something?”

Yes, that would be wise. He should’ve thought of that.

He nodded. “Take your time.”

She shuffled into the bedroom, and he dropped into the chair she’d vacated. Tension wound through his shoulders and neck.

Jensen had another thing coming if he thought he’d get away with this.

Had she ever been so exhausted?

Heaviness dragged at her legs as she climbed the porch stairs and stepped into the house. The scent of acrid smoke assaulted her nose with each breath—each breath that multiplied the burning in her lungs.

A fit of coughing tore through her, and she braced both hands against the table. Burning claimed her palms.

Jensen was nothing but a coward. A dirty, despicable coward.

She clamped her teeth together, drew in the slowest of breaths, then eased away from the table. A few unsteady steps brought her to the window.

Jake trudged toward the house, no longer leading the horses behind him. Then again, that made sense. He’d said he was going to put them in the pasture where they’d have plenty to eat and drink.

Her head must be filled with smoke.

But smoke or no smoke, she needed to fix something for them to eat. Jake had to be as exhausted as she was.

Footsteps clomped on the porch, then Jake stumbled inside. Without a word, he dragged a chair away from the table, slumped into it, and tossed his hat onto its nail. Hair hung in sweaty strands over his forehead, and perspiration sheened his face.

Help us, Lord. Please help us.

Hands burning, she grabbed a plate, sliced some bread and cheese, poured two cups of water, and set it all on the table.

No, it wasn’t much, but it’d give them energy. And if she tried to prepare anything more complicated, she’d end up in an exhausted heap on the floor.

Once she’d taken her seat, Jake said a quiet, raspy grace.

She opened eyes that hadn’t stopped burning and took a gulp of water. It traced a cool, wet path down her scratchy throat.

Jake lifted a piece of cheese from the plate. “Those horses...”

What more could be said about them? Whenever she or Jake had gotten close to one of them, the animals had darted farther away. Given that all their ropes of any decent length had burned up in the barn, it’d taken hours to bring the geldings home.

She’d finally managed to snag one of their leads, while Jake had gotten hold of the other two.

She took another drink of water. “They’ll be safe in the pasture?”

He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them, gaze dull. “I’ll be watching them. Don’t know what—if anything—Jensen might try next.”

It could be the house Jensen’s men set fire to next. It could be the horses they killed.

She set her water cup on the table and clenched her hands in her lap. A mistake given the fire that flooded her palms.

She unclasped her hands.

Lord, protect us. Please stop Jensen and his men from hurting us. Please stop Dalton too.

And Jake...he was already weary. He wouldn’t get any rest while standing guard.

He sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s no other option.”

“Do you really think they’ll try something tonight?”

He only shrugged.

And that gesture was enough for tension to flood her muscles. Please protect us.

“Both he and Dalton have plenty of land.” She carefully lifted her cup. “They have no need for ours.”

He took a bite of cheese and followed it with a bite of bread.

“They need to stop.” Her throat clogged. “This is nothing but nonsense.”

He pushed to his feet, grabbed his hat and rifle, and walked outside. The door closed behind him with a solid thud.

This was madness. Complete madness.

She leaned forward and rested her face on her arms. The increased stinging in her eyes and the constriction tormenting her throat were nothing but lies. Crying wouldn’t keep trouble away.

Maybe nothing short of a miracle would keep trouble away at this point.

Moonlight cut a cold trail across the otherwise darkened pasture. The three horses stood as no more than shadows, tails swishing and heads down.

He strode onto the porch, sat on the top step, and rested his rifle across his knees.

Sooner or later, Jensen would try something. That very well could be tonight, but it could also be days or weeks from now.

Or Dalton could try something. Or he and Jensen could both try something.

Too many possibilities.

He ran his hand over the rifle’s smooth stock.

He’d made a mistake in moving out here—a mistake that had already cost him and Georgia too much. He’d put Georgia in danger. He should’ve asked the previous owner of this place a few more questions. Better yet, he should’ve gone on to a different area of Texas, should’ve bought a ranch there. Shouldn’t have put Georgia in this situation.

Yet pondering everything he should’ve done wouldn’t help anything.

What mattered was what he should do now.

He wouldn’t sell out to Jensen or Dalton. All he could do was keep standing up to them and pray they’d back down sooner rather than later.

But what if things came down to a fight? What if he ended up taking lives that wouldn’t have been lost if he’d sold out? What if he ended up putting Georgia in even more danger? What if he couldn’t protect her?

No, surely it wouldn’t come to that. Surely Jensen or Dalton wouldn’t risk their lives or their men’s lives over a piece of land that was small in the grand scheme of things when they already had acres upon acres of land.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was foolishness. Maybe it was some combination of the two. Maybe it was neither of the two.

But he wasn’t backing down.

One of the horses let out a snort, and he flinched.

Would God be pleased by his choice, or was he bringing dishonor to his Father?

He blew out a breath that rasped along his irritated throat.

Lord, help me. Protect Georgia. Don’t let me make this situation worse and put her in more danger.

The door creaked open behind him, footsteps scuffed against wood, and Georgia lowered herself beside him.

He rested a hand on her nightgown-covered knee. “You should be asleep.” Not thinking she had to stay awake to keep him company. Or worse, letting her worries keep her up.

She offered a small smile. “Maybe I wanted to sit with my husband under a starry sky.”

“That’s a little poetic for you.” And likely not the real reason she’d come out here.

“Are you saying I can’t be poetic?” She tilted her head, the wind toying with her unpinned hair.

“I reckon you can when you want to be. But you’ve never wanted to be before.”

She let out a small laugh then sobered. “I suppose it’s shameful for a grown woman to admit that she let the dark make her mind run wild.”

That she admitted such a thing said she trusted him and felt safe with him. He could have it a lot worse. Yet he’d put the woman who trusted him and felt safe with him in danger. What kind of man did that?

He took a rough breath. She’d been talking to him. He needed to answer. “You know I’m not going to laugh at you.”

“I know.” Her laughter came out forced. “But I’ll laugh at myself.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “I think it helps. Sometimes I can start taking things too seriously. But enough of that. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary.”

“No.” Thankfully not. “It’s been quiet.”

“Good.” She relaxed against him. “That makes me feel better. Maybe Jensen will realize he can’t run us off and stop all of this nonsense.”

“We can hope.”

And pray.

The morning sun hung low in the sky as Georgia slipped out onto the porch. Jake jerked away from where he leaned against the house, rifle in hand, eyes underscored by the darkness of a sleepless night.

She extended a cup of coffee.

He took it from her and brought it to his lips. “Thanks. Didn’t know how much I needed that.”

Given Jake’s absence from her side, sleep had evaded her too. “I think we both did.” She eased onto the steps and rested her bandaged hands on her knees. The charred pile of debris taunted her, as if it took pleasure in reminding her of the destruction of that night.

Oh, one sleepless night shouldn’t have her personifying the ruins of a burned-out barn.

“All quiet last night.” Jake took another sip of coffee.

The horses stood in the pasture, swishing their tails sleepily.

“Just look at them. Standing there all nice and peaceful. Who would’ve thought they were running every time we got close to them yesterday?” He laughed, but the sound didn’t hold much humor. “They’re back. That’s all that matters.”

She took a seat on the porch’s top step.

He sank down beside her and slung his arm around her shoulders. “What’re you thinking about? You haven’t listened to a thing I’ve said.”

“I’m not sure I even know.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. How did one give voice to what fueled a thousand worries?

Steam rose from his coffee cup, and she pulled in a breath heavy with the dark, nutty scent.

He rubbed her arm. “Jensen’s not going to beat us.”

And he knew that how? From all the evidence, Jensen was more than winning. Then there was the unknown that was Dalton.

“Don’t let him get in your head.”

Oh, she did far too good of a job of that on her own. If worries were weapons, she could fell an army.

He extended the tin cup to her. “You look like you need it.”

Even coffee wouldn’t make up for the amount of sleep she’d lost.

She took a quick swallow then handed the cup back to him. What had happened to her? Yes, she’d often fallen into the trap of sitting around and letting her mind run crazy but never to this extreme.

God, I know You’re in control. I want to trust You. Please help me...

If Jake knew, he’d likely tell her to look at God instead of their problems. Then again, Jake didn’t struggle like she did.

Help me glorify You. Somehow.

She blinked against the burning that still irritated her eyes. All that smoke. Those flames. Set by Jensen or his men.

Jensen needed to be shot. Shot until he lay motionless in the dust.

“Georgia?” Jake moved his arm from around her shoulders and rested his hand on the back of hers.

“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.” The words escaped her as a gust of breath. “It’s not any good.” She clenched her teeth. What would be next? Would Jensen and his men come gunning for them? Would she and Jake die by way of Jensen’s lead? Would all their efforts to keep this ranch be for nothing?

If she said anything else, she’d be doing nothing but railing at him. And he hadn’t done anything to deserve that. Better that she kept her mouth closed and the hateful, fretful thoughts trapped inside.

She pushed to her feet and took the empty coffee cup from him. “I’ve got chores to do.” Sweeping the house could expend a lot of fury, even if it’d irritate her hands. As could chopping potatoes. As could...

He nodded. “I’m going to tend the horses.”

Yet doing chores wouldn’t erase the danger that was Jensen and Dalton.

He was going to fail.

He sloshed another bucket of water into the pasture trough.

Maybe he’d already failed. Georgia had nothing but anxiety. The barn was nothing but charred debris. Even the corral was a heap of boards that he needed to put back together.

They should’ve stayed in Tennessee. Yet he’d already taken his stand, and he couldn’t back down now.

Heavy steps carried him to the well, and he hauled up another bucket of water.

Hoofbeats sounded behind him, and he spun, hand close to his gun.

Dalton drew rein, something of a smirk on his face. “Take it easy, boy.”

He lowered the bucket to the ground—half of its contents soaking his trouser leg—and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s a good way to get shot.”

And so was not hearing the man’s approach. If Dalton had wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about it.

Tension ratcheted through his shoulders, and he fisted his hands.

Dalton tipped his hat back on his head. “That’s not real neighborly of you.”

Because Dalton knew all about being neighborly.

Cold water dampened the bottom of his sock, and he ground out a breath. “What’d you come for?” No need to engage in meaningless conversation.

Dalton rested both gloved hands on the saddle horn. “Word of warning. You’d rather deal with me than Jensen.”

The man had a lot of nerve. “I’m not dealing with either of you.” And no amount of persuasion—violent or otherwise—was going to change his mind. “I’ve made that more than clear.”

Dalton motioned to the remains of the barn. “He’ll do worse than that.”

“And so will you. Your meaning’s clear enough.” Heat coiled in his chest. “Or maybe that was you.” The tracks had led toward Jensen’s ranch, but it wasn’t Jensen who’d come to gloat.

Dalton rasped a laugh. “I don’t hide beneath the cover of darkness.”

Words were easy, yet the man didn’t appear to be lying.

Dalton was a different kind of dangerous than Jensen. A more direct kind of dangerous.

“How much are you gonna lose before you give in?” Dalton patted his horse’s neck, the motion at odds with his threatening tone.

“I ain’t selling to you.” Was the man hard of hearing?

“This land is gonna be mine. Jensen or no Jensen.”

Dalton had nothing but arrogance.

“Get off this property. If I catch you here again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you out of that saddle.” Big words for a man who hadn’t been paying good enough attention to hear Dalton ride up.

Dalton tipped his head back, laughed, then turned his mount around. Without another word, he tapped his heels against the animal’s sides, and the horse eased into a lope.

The front door slammed shut, and footsteps slapped at the ground.

He faced Georgia.

Eyes wild and face pale, she stared at him, mouth open like she wanted to say something yet couldn’t think of the words.

Maybe there weren’t any words for any of this.

She closed her eyes then opened them. “What did he want?”

“Same thing as always. And he better not show his face around here again.”

Nothing about this situation was going to turn out well.

Nothing at all.

She sank into a chair and rested her hands on the table—hands that shook like she was freezing. She clenched them into fists despite the protests of her palms, but that didn’t stop the vibrations.

Helpless. That’s all she was.

She couldn’t help Jake. Couldn’t offer anything that would comfort him. Couldn’t take this mess away from him. She couldn’t defeat Jensen and Dalton. Couldn’t ban them from ever stepping foot on this ranch again—not in any way that would work. She couldn’t turn back time and beg Jake to stay in Tennessee. She couldn’t even keep an unworried countenance so Jake wouldn’t be concerned about her.

She slammed both fists to the table and shoved to her feet, hands throbbing and burning. If only that table were Jensen’s face, Dalton’s face. Painful, blistered hands wouldn’t matter then. If they’d let her, she’d wail on them until her knuckles were raw.

She swallowed back the tightness that had determined to invade her throat. Anger was a thousand times better than tears, than full-out sobbing.

Footsteps thumped against the porch.

She dragged in one unsteady breath after another. She needed to be calm in front of Jake. No screaming. No sobbing. No nothing. Only calm.

The door swung open, and he strode inside, face set in hard lines.

Anything she said would be meaningless, more than meaningless.

She turned to the stove, grabbed the coffee pot with a rag to shield her hand from any heat that might be remaining, and poured the dark liquid into a cup.

Gulping half a cup of the lukewarm brew eased the tension in her throat but left a coating of bitterness on her tongue. “Do you want some?” Her voice had no call to be so strangled.

His hand settled on her shoulder, and he turned her to him and pulled her close.

She wrapped her arms around him, cup still in one hand, and held on.

For once, he didn’t offer any reassurances.

She pressed her forehead to his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Lord, please help us. I don’t know what else to pray. “I’m so very tired of all this.”

He rubbed a slow circle on her back.

“I wish it’d all stop.” Now she was speaking for no reason other than to speak.

His hand stilled on her back, and he tightened his hold on her. “We’ll be fine. We’ll get through this.”

The platitudes were back. Yes, he’d spoken them to comfort her, and he likely didn’t know what else to say.

There were no words for this.

The time had come.

Jensen had finally come to lay claim to the deeds he’d done under the cover of darkness. And he’d come backed by too many of his men.

Jake cocked his rifle and walked down the steps. “Get out of here.”

Jensen propped a gloved hand on his hip. “That’s not very neighborly of you, Aymes.”

He and Dalton must’ve been working on their script together.

Jensen angled toward his men, and all pretense of courtesy slipped from his face. “But weak threats won’t change anything, will they?”

His foreman lowered his hand to his revolver and laughed. “I reckon not, Mr. Jensen.”

Jensen faced forward, shaking his head in a mocking apology. “I heard you had a fire. You should be grateful it wasn’t your house. Because it could’ve been. Where would this ranch go if you and your wife had been killed in a house fire?”

That was enough. That was more than enough.

Tension carved through his muscles. “Get off this ranch and never come back, or get off that horse and fight me like a man.”

Several more of Jensen’s men rested their hands on their revolvers.

There’d be no fair fight. Not that any fight he’d had with Jensen’s men had been fair. The dull ache meandering through his ribs and side proved that.

Jensen had the nerve to laugh. “Oh, I’m coming back, Aymes. I’m coming back. And don’t even think about running because I won’t let you get away. The time for dealing with me is long gone. You’re going to pay for resisting my generous offer.”

Jensen wheeled his horse around, and he and his men galloped away.

If it was a fight Jensen wanted, that’s what he’d get.

Jensen had left him no option.

When Jensen and his men were no more than a speck on the horizon, Jake lowered his rifle to his side and turned back to the house.

Georgia stood at the open window, face pale and features tight.

He strode inside, propped the rifle in the corner, and faced her. He was supposed to protect her, and now they faced something he likely wouldn’t be able to protect her from.

Hot tightness expanded through his chest. “Reckon you heard him.”

She gave a single nod.

“Running’s no option.”

She again nodded.

“It’s a fight he wants, and it’s a fight he’s gonna get.”

Another nod.

He swallowed against a throat that held no moisture. “I don’t know when he’s coming back, but we’re gonna be ready for him. Collect all the ammunition you can find. I’ll bring in some buckets of water in case he pins us down.” Or tried to set the house on fire.

No need to say that. She’d likely already thought it.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t think we have enough ammunition.”

It would have to do. Jensen had said he wouldn’t let them leave the ranch, so he had to have guards posted somewhere. Guards who wouldn’t ask questions before they started shooting.

A trip to town was out of the question—as was getting Georgia to safety. That trip to safety would be just as dangerous as staying where she was.

“Jake, I don’t think we have enough.”

He’d never replied to her—at least so that she could hear. “It’ll have to be enough.”

Words that weren’t comforting in the least. But the truth wasn’t always comforting.

She hurried away, and he stepped onto the porch.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Yes, the landscape lay still, but Jensen’s men were out there somewhere.