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

Chapter 6

Night closed in. Night deep enough to crush the air from his lungs if he’d let it. No, that was more likely the weight of what he’d face in the coming hours or days.

Jensen wouldn’t back down from one man. And one man was all that was going to face him. He didn’t have friends out here. The townspeople likely wouldn’t want to stand up to the cattle baron even if he could get word to them.

He and Georgia would face this alone.

Yet what if he were shot and killed? What if he left her to face Jensen alone? What if she were shot and killed?

He pressed his shoulders against the rough exterior of the house and blew out a ragged breath.

No light seeped around the edges of the shuttered windows. They were as dark as this mess he’d gotten himself and Georgia into.

God, help me. Help us.

A pathetic prayer, but he had nothing else.

How had the dream of a new start, a new life out here, turned into this?

He shoved his hands into his pockets and curled his fingers into fists. Fists that needed to be driven straight into Jensen’s arrogant face.

But Jensen wouldn’t fight like that—wouldn’t fight fair. No, he’d come armed to the teeth. And he’d come accompanied by all too many of his men.

Lord, help us.

Yes, God could deliver them, but would He see fit to?

The front door squeaked open, and the darkened shape that was Georgia slipped to his side.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” Given that no light shone from the cabin, any of Jensen’s men who were out there would have to look long and hard into the shadows cast by the porch to see either of them. But safety aside, she needed her rest.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Do you see anything?”

All too much. It was far too easy to see that they’d be outnumbered and outgunned whenever Jensen decided to attack. But that hadn’t been what she’d asked. “No.” And he wouldn’t until Jensen was ready for him to.

“Does it remind you of the war?”

The fact that he’d soon yet again face a hail of gunfire?

Should he have sold out when he had the chance? Before he had to take lives? Before he’d put Georgia in danger? Had his desire to stand up to Jensen been nothing but pride and stubbornness?

All this could’ve been prevented if he’d stayed in Tennessee. Or if he hadn’t fallen for the previous landowner’s offer. Or if he’d kept going and found a different place to settle. Or if he’d sold out to Dalton the first time he’d offered him that good price.

But now it was too late. Too late to make different choices. Too late.

“Jake?”

He flinched. “What?”

She tightened her hold on him. “I asked if this reminds you of the war.”

An iron band closed around his lungs. Either she was squeezing the breath from him or the responsibility weighing on his shoulders had clamped around his chest.

Probably the latter.

“The waiting.” Her words came soft. “I know you said there was a lot of waiting during the war. This is how I imagine it would be.”

He somehow breathed through the tightness. “It’s not really the same. We did things to pass the time.” Playing cards. Joking around. Pretending a good number of them wouldn’t be dead or wounded in a few short hours. Pretending they wouldn’t have to kill men all too similar to themselves. Men with families. Men who should have long lives ahead of them.

And during the war, all he’d done was take orders. He hadn’t been responsible for making major decisions that affected others’ lives.

Yet what would be all too similar was the bloodshed any kind of confrontation would bring. Men falling to the ground. Writhing. Screaming in pain.

Men who wouldn’t have been injured or killed if he’d backed down.

Nausea stirred through his gut, but he swallowed it away.

He tugged one hand from his pocket and looped an arm around her shoulders like he probably should’ve done a few minutes ago.

She pressed closer against him. “I don’t like the waiting.”

“Neither do I.” And she wouldn’t like what came after the waiting either. If only he could spare her from it. Yet the time for such a thing was long past. They could only face the darkness.

She stepped away from him. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a worrier lately.”

“It’s all right.”

She huffed a breath. “It’s not all right. You’ve been having a hard time, and I’ve been making it harder.”

“No.” He’d had more things on his mind than how her worries might affect him—namely how to deal with the problems that were Jensen and Dalton.

She rested her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry just the same.”

He nodded though she likely couldn’t see him all that well. “You’re going to be tired in the morning if you don’t get some sleep.”

“You’ll be tired too.”

Yes, but being tired was far better than having the enemy sneak up on them or attack while he and Georgia were asleep.

Even bright sunlight and a cooling breeze couldn’t banish the foggy residue of a sleepless night—or the reality that she and Jake faced a danger all too great.

And there wasn’t a thing she could do to change that reality.

She wrapped her hand in a cloth, picked up the coffee pot from the stove, and poured two cups of the dark, steaming liquid.

Jake would be in soon. And when he came in, she would greet him with a smile—or at the very least something that wasn’t a frown.

God was in control, and she could trust Him.

Please, please help me trust You more.

Trust Him despite her fears. Trust Him despite the armed, ruthless men who could show up at any moment and demand they surrender their ranch.

But how?

With a shaking hand, she returned the coffee pot to the stove.

Tightness filled her chest and throat, and she sank into a chair and clenched the edge of the table.

What little breath that could make it past the tightness turned ragged.

Help, God. Please help.

Footsteps sounded on the porch.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Jake wasn’t supposed to come in and find her on the verge of breaking down. That was the last thing he needed to find after she’d apologized to him.

She shoved from the chair and faced the stove—the stove that held nothing but the coffee pot.

A quick swipe of her hand smeared the wetness from her cheeks.

Yet it couldn’t do anything for what had to be reddened, watery eyes.

Oh, she was fighting a lost cause. In more ways than one.

The door squeaked open.

She cleared her throat. “Coffee’s on the table.” Of course the words emerged as little more than a rasp.

More footsteps echoed across the floorboards. “Thanks.”

A dull weariness shadowed his single word. Coffee couldn’t fix that kind of exhaustion.

“Come sit down with me. You probably need it as much as I do.”

She gave a single shake of her head—a shake that sent warmth trailing down her cheeks. “Not right now. I have things to do.”

“You poured yourself a cup.”

He didn’t need to notice that.

She waved a hand in the general direction of the bedroom. “I have to make the bed and do some other...things.” If the tears wouldn’t obey her commands to dry up, she needed a bit of privacy. Some liked comfort while crying, but in this case, that’d only make the tears flow harder.

Keeping her steps somewhat even and steady, she headed toward the bedroom and nudged the door shut with her foot.

“Georgia, are you all right?”

What a question.

She pulled in a slow breath. “I just need a few minutes to myself.”

He’d understand. He knew her better than she sometimes knew herself.

She walked to the open window and braced her palms on the sill. Sunlight warmed her face, and a breeze toyed with the loose hairs around her face.

The tears slipped free, one after another.

I don’t understand. We were supposed to make something of this ranch. We were supposed to have a new start. We were supposed to be able to live lives that glorified You.

Not die at the hand of some greedy rancher who already owned more land than he knew what to do with.

You brought us through the war. You brought us through so much. Why would You bring us out here only for us to lose everything? I know we’re not promised tomorrow, but...

She dragged her handkerchief from her apron pocket and blew her nose.

She could be out there supporting Jake or doing something useful. Instead, she was hiding out and whining to God.

She fisted the dampened cloth and stuffed it back in her pocket. With the back of her hand, she dried her cheeks yet again and breathed the remaining tightness from her throat.

Enough of this. She’d go out there—calmly—drink her coffee, and talk to Jake.

She pushed away from the window and slipped into the main room.

Jake looked up from his place at the table, dark shadows smudged beneath his eyes. “Better?”

Maybe. Maybe not.

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, took a seat, and curled her fingers around her cup of coffee.

Warmth flooded into her fingers and palm, and she lifted the cup to her lips. “I assume there’s still no sign of them.”

What a foolish statement. If there were signs of Jensen and his men, Jake surely wouldn’t be in here relaxing and drinking coffee.

Lack of sleep and too much stress had addled her brain.

He shook his head and took a sip of coffee. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

He didn’t throw around promises lightly, but he had no basis to make such a claim.

And neither did she.

He’d stand on this porch for a thousand sleepless nights if it’d keep Jensen away.

Too bad such a thing wasn’t possible. All standing guard did was give him warning should Jensen decide now was the time to make a move.

A move he’d likely been planning for weeks.

He tipped his hat back on his head and rubbed his eyes with the hand not holding the rifle. An ache expanded through his ribs.

Nothing but the yipping of coyotes and the rustling of a breeze through the grass disturbed the night.

Too bad it couldn’t stay that way.

Then again, it never stayed that way.

During the war, stillness had been shattered by the blasts of cannons, the cracks of gunshots, and the screams of wounded men. When Jensen showed up, things wouldn’t be much different. Only the man had better not be in possession of any cannons.

Georgia would give him a suspicious look for thinking such a thing.

Or maybe she’d just stare at him with her eyes all haunted and red like she had this morning. Sure, she’d probably wanted to hide that from him, but there wasn’t much she could do in that regard.

At least now she was getting some sleep. Or staying inside pretending to be asleep.

He pushed away from the exterior of the house, walked down the steps, and strode in a slow circle around the perimeter of the house.

Other than the breeze stirring the grass, everything lay still and dark.

Please let it stay that way.

He could rebuild the barn. He and Georgia could make something of this ranch.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Not if Jensen—and Dalton—had anything to say about it.

Weight dragged at his eyelids, and he trudged back onto the porch and pulled the door open. If he were going to stay awake for the rest of the night, he needed coffee.

Hadn’t Georgia said something about leaving some on the stove for him?

Enough moonlight shone through the windows to light his way to the stove.

He grabbed a cup and filled it.

The floor creaked from the direction of the bedroom.

He let out a quiet groan. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Her voice came quiet and heavy.

“You should be. You need your rest.” Especially given what was coming.

“I was praying.” She slipped toward him, nothing but a darkened outline. “Since I couldn’t sleep, I figured that was a better use of my time than coming up with more and more outrageous scenarios.”

She had a point.

He leaned a hip against the table and took a gulp of coffee. Still warm. Maybe it’d even help keep him awake. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Something hesitant colored the word.

“That I brought you out here. That you’re involved in this mess. That I can’t find an easy way out.”

She closed the distance between them and rested her hand on his arm. “I wanted to come out here just as much as you did. You didn’t know this would happen.”

Maybe not. But once they were out here and had encountered the first hints of danger, he should’ve guessed what was to come. He should’ve gotten her out of here while he still could.

Maybe surrendering wouldn’t have been so bad. Or maybe it would’ve been.

“I don’t blame you.”

No, she wouldn’t. She was too kind for that.

“You didn’t know they’d go this far. You thought they were just trying to intimidate us.”

Yes, but he’d been a shortsighted fool. Anybody but him could’ve seen what was going to happen.

And now it was too late.

“I’m sorry just the same.” He took another hard swallow of coffee, and its bitterness burned down his throat.

She wrapped both arms around his waist and pressed her head to his shoulder. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we will get through this.”

She didn’t believe that any more than he did.

But speaking it would make it all too real.

He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Maybe so.”

“Did you check that the rifle’s fully loaded?” Jake propped his fists on the table and leaned toward her. Darkness shadowed his eyes.

“Yes.” Tightness gripped her throat. “When?”

He straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know why, but I’ve got a feeling he’ll come tonight.”

Gone was her gentle husband. In his place stood a man accustomed to war. The firm set of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw, the resolute gleam in his eyes all told of a man prepared for battle.

And it was a battle they were facing.

She fisted the worn cotton of her skirt. “What should we do now?”

He sank into the chair beside her and took her hand in his. “We wait. And we pray. Nothing else left to do.”

He stood, brought her up with him, and pulled her to himself. The quick beat of his heart mingled with her own as she laid her head against his shoulder. He held her for a long moment, his embrace saying more than either of them could speak.

Don’t take him from me. I can’t lose him.

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

“Georgia.” He tightened his hold on her. “We’re safe in Him.”

Yes, but... “I know.”

If only her fears listened to knowledge. “I wish there was more we could do to prepare.”

“There isn’t anything.”

The truth. How did they prepare to face so many dangerous men? They didn’t even have a chance of coming out of this alive.

They should’ve stayed in Tennessee. Yes, it’d been war-torn, but it’d been safer than this. They had family there. Friends. The farm hadn’t been big, but it’d been home. And nobody had been desperate to take it from them.

But she couldn’t say any of that to Jake. He already blamed himself for what was going on.

She should’ve told him last night to blame Jensen. And Dalton. After all, they were the ones trying to steal this place from them.

Greedy. Nothing but greedy, despicable cowards.

She eased away from Jake’s hold and dropped into her chair.

Waiting. More waiting. Seemed all she ever did lately was wait for something horrible to happen.

Jake again took the chair beside her.

This wasn’t what they’d dreamed of before they came out here. No, those dreams had been of a thriving ranch. Of a safe place to raise a family. Of a way of life they could leave to their descendants. Not of threats. Not of bullets flying. Not of death.

But those dreams hadn’t been anywhere close to reality, and remembering them served no purpose other than to remind her of what wouldn’t be.

She cupped her hands over her knees. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“I could make something for breakfast.”

He shook his head.

How could she blame him? Her own stomach churned even though she’d done nothing but drink some coffee. Or maybe the coffee had contributed to the discomfort.

Jake pushed to his feet and walked outside.

She wouldn’t follow him. He likely needed time to think and plan.

Not that a plan would get them out of this mess.

No, one way or another, they’d have to face Jensen.

And there wasn’t a thing she could do to prevent it.

Dawn lit the edges of the night, pushing back the darkness. Jake pressed against the rough exterior of the house and squinted. Vague swirls of dust hung over the horizon.

With measured steps, he strode to the door and ducked inside. Georgia glanced up from where she sat at the table, eyes wide and reddened, lips parted.

If only he’d been able to promise her that he would never leave her. If only he knew that would be true. If only he knew that a bullet wouldn’t steal her away from him.

Hoofbeats rumbled in the distance. Georgia stood and brushed the tears from her cheeks.

The time of waiting was long past even though Jensen had taken longer than he’d thought.

He dropped to his knees at the window and motioned for Georgia to get down beside him. Please protect her, Lord.

Angry shouts shattered the still morning.

Jensen raised a hand to halt what had to be close to twenty of his men about forty yards from the house. Behind the riders sat four wagons. Another round of shouting echoed, and several men lifted their rifles over their heads. The drivers of the wagons jumped down and worked to unhitch the teams.

“Reckon they think we are gonna be a lot of trouble.” Help me. Give me wisdom and courage.

“Aymes.” Jensen’s voice filtered into the house. “Hiding like the coward you are.”

Jake nudged the window up and shoved the barrel of his rifle through the opening. “Like I said before, Jensen, fight me like a man. Just you and me.”

Because that was the only way he and Georgia had a chance to survive.

“The time for that is long gone.” Jensen dismounted.

Jensen and his men scattered, taking cover behind rocks and the wagons the men had tipped onto their sides.

Jake levered a round into the chamber.

Both windows shattered, and shards of glass went flying.

He squeezed the trigger, and a man slumped to the ground, clutching his shoulder.

Bullets whizzed past his head, and the air thickened with the acrid smoke of spent gunpowder. The men crept closer and closer, running from one point of cover to the next, his shots not enough to keep them at bay.

Before too much longer, they’d have the house surrounded.

He pulled the empty rifle away from the window, handed it to Georgia to reload, and drew his revolver.

He never should’ve brought her here, never should’ve taken her from Tennessee. Or if they’d had to leave Tennessee, they should’ve settled somewhere safer.

This was no time for doubts, for regrets. He had to fight as hard as he could, even though it wouldn’t be enough.

Wood shavings rained over him as the weathered boards gave way to the onslaught of lead.

He squeezed off round after round. He couldn’t hold them off much longer. As if to prove his point, a man sprinted to the house, crouching low to the ground.

He took the loaded rifle from Georgia and handed her the revolver.

The remainder of the glass shattered, and bullets screamed over his head. He looped an arm around Georgia’s shoulders and pulled her close to the floor.

A heavy force slammed into the door, and the dry wood shivered on its hinges. The crossbar splintered, and the door flew open.

He scrambled to his feet, fired a shot, levered in another round, then fired again.

The man stumbled out the door.

He forced the twisted door shut and jammed the table against it.

Georgia knelt by the window, eyes wide. “They’ve got torches.”

They’d be burned alive or shot down as they fled from the fiery prison.

Please, no. No. No. No.

One man pulled his arm back to hurl a torch at the roof.

A scream escaped her.

Jake fired a shot, and the man collapsed.

He thrust the rifle at her, and she handed him the revolver.

She fumbled for the box of cartridges beside her.

Not many left. Not nearly enough to hold off these men for more than a few minutes.

Air fled her lungs.

With shaking hands, she scrambled to reload.

Jake slumped against her, his weight driving her to the floor.

“No.” The raw cry tore from her, rising above the ringing of her ears. She pushed out from under him. “No.”

She grasped his shoulders. Blood coated the side of his head and pooled on the floor beneath him.

Please, Lord. Please no.

He blinked up at her and struggled into a sitting position, eyes unfocused.

Nausea twisted her stomach.

Hoofbeats pounded the ground. What looked to be dozens more riders galloped toward the house, led by John Dalton.

There was no hope. No hope at all.

Shaking consumed her.

The gunfire tapered off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

“Jensen, get outta here.” Dalton swung down from his saddle, rifle in one hand.

Jensen pushed away from the rock he’d been crouched behind. As if Jensen’s men hadn’t been bad enough. Now they had to fight Dalton and his ranch hands.

They were going to die. There was no way around it. No way at all.

A shaky hand landed on her shoulder. “While they’re distracted, we’ll get out the back window. It’s our best chance.”

She tilted her face toward Jake.

Pallor claimed the part of his face not slicked by blood, and pain left his mouth in a tight line.

Jensen strode toward Dalton, shoulders thrown back, hand close to his revolver. “This isn’t your fight. Take your boys back to your ranch. This land is mine.”

She started to push to her feet, but Jake’s hand on her wrist stayed her.

“Wh-what?” The word trembled from her.

“Wait.” He leaned hard against the wall. “Think it’s better that we wait. I don’t know what’s going on here.”

Oh, it was obvious what was going on. Both Jensen and Dalton coveted this land. They’d fight each other, then the victor would come after her and Jake.

“Look.” Jake’s voice came as nothing more than a rasp.

She blinked.

One moment, tension stiffened Jensen’s entire form. The next, it was gone, leaving only confidence in its place.

Jensen pulled his gun with a motion so quick she would’ve missed it if she’d blinked.

Shots rang out, shattering the heavy silence.

Jensen staggered to his knees, clutching his chest.

Dalton lowered his rifle an inch or two. “Unless you want the same as your boss, get outta here.”

Jensen’s men stood from where they’d taken cover and mounted their horses, dragging the downed men with them. As quickly as they’d appeared, they were gone.

But now they’d have to deal with Dalton. Jake was injured, and they had little ammunition left.

Dalton turned to his men. “Get on back to the ranch.”

His men wheeled their horses around and headed in the same direction they’d come.

Maybe—just maybe—she and Jake stood a chance against Dalton alone.