Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The air sucked from the room, leaving Dianne struggling against dizziness. Did he plan to turn her into a prisoner? Without looking away, she shoved Eddie behind her, then eased her hand toward the ax, gripping its hard, reassuring handle in her fist and pulling it to her chest.
“You can’t keep me here against my will.” Her insides quaked, but she managed to keep her words strong to let him know she’d fight if she must.
His chuckle was followed by a sigh. “Have a look out the window.”
She dared a glance in that direction but couldn’t make out anything except the reflection of the room.
“Do you think you can retrace your steps in the dark? And aren’t you the littlest bit afraid of who might be sharing the path?”
At least he was considerate enough not to name the dangers—the wild animals and Crazy Jane. “I’ll borrow your ax.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels.
Shivers rippled through her. She clamped her teeth together to keep them from rattling.
“I don’t believe you can stop me.” Brave words from a fear-filled heart.
“I wouldn’t even try…” He let his words trail off. “Except I couldn’t live with myself if I let you go, and you or the young one encountered trouble.”
“Mama!” Eddie gasped. “I don’t want no trouble.”
“Ma’am, it’d be best if you spend the night. Wait until light to do whatever you mean to do.”
Whatever—? Had he not listened to a word she said? “I’ll make my way to Chet’s ranch just as I planned.”
“You do whatever you think best. It’s no concern of mine.”
She snorted. “Well, thanks for your permission.”
“Mama.”
Dianne turned to her anxious son. “Everything’s fine, Eddie.”
Eddie rocked back and forth. “I’s hungry.”
The mundane, ordinary request tempted a smile. A smile that flattened as she had no supplies. Her bags were on the stagecoach now far down the trail. She’d counted on food being served at the overnight stop. Must she rely on her reluctant host for food? At least for Eddie.
“I’ll rustle up something for us.” Four steps took Jace to the cupboard and stove.
“Seems unusual to have both a stove and a fireplace in a cabin this small.” It would make the air overly warm.
Dianne studied the place. One room. The stove, a cupboard, and a table with two chairs filled one side.
The chair before the fireplace was built for comfort—big and wide with arms that could hold both a book and a cup of tea.
It would be good to settle down and enjoy some relaxation.
Behind the chair, a narrow cot covered in a gray woolen blanket occupied that corner.
Next to the door, hooks held an array of coats and reins, a broom rested nearby, and another cupboard reached the ceiling. Everything nice and cozy.
“Chet liked having both. ‘Homey,’ he said. He liked comfort.”
Dianne looked at the roomy chair. “I can see that.”
While her attention was diverted, Jace had lit a fire in the stove.
She shivered. Her shoes were still wet, her skirts damp, and she was chilled though perhaps as much from worry and fear as from her time in the river.
Jace pulled items from the kitchen cupboard.
“Whatcha making?” Blanket hugged tight, Eddie stepped toward the stove.
“Stay here, son.” It was safest to keep her distance. Well, distance in a cabin this small was also a relative term. But she’d at least keep Eddie at her side. No strange man would be snatching him away.
“I’ve got beans.” Jace held up a tin can with a faded label portraying baked beans. He pulled another from the cupboard. “Or beans.” He pulled out a third can. “Or beans. Which would you like?”
Eddie giggled. “They’s all the same.”
“Really?” Jace pretended to study the labels. “Why you’re correct. You’re pretty sharp to notice that.”
Eddie giggled again. “Guess we’s having beans.”
“You’re all right with that?” Jace hesitated as if considering another option.
“I’s hungry.”
“Then beans it is.”
Dianne edged close enough to glimpse into the cupboard. It was practically empty. A few more cans all wore the same label, and half a dozen various-sized tins such as one would use to store dry goods. Would they contain flour or sugar or perhaps tea?
“How long have you been here?” Had he consumed all the supplies?
“Not long.”
“It would appear you didn’t come prepared for a lengthy stay.” She waved to indicate the cupboard.
“I can always go hunting.” He cut the lids from two cans, studied Eddie, then opened a third, and emptied the contents into a pot on the stove. “I don’t need much… just the basics.”
“The basics? What would that be?”
“Coffee, biscuits.” He tapped two canisters to suggest they held what he mentioned. “Meat which I mean to hunt.” He stirred the beans.
“That’s pretty basic for sure. How much flour do you have there?”
He lifted the lid on a bucket-sized tin. “Not as much as I’d like.”
“And coffee?”
He shook a smaller tin, and beans rattled around inside. He grunted. “Almost empty.”
“It would appear”—she spoke slowly, softly, not wanting to upset the man but wondering why he’d come out into the woods unprepared—“you came out here in a hurry.” Was he running from something or someone? Her shoulders tensed, and she found the ax again.
“Maybe I did.” He shook the coffee can again. “I might have to ride to town for supplies.”
“Perhaps you could escort me to the ranch at the same time.” Now, why had she suggested such a thing? She didn’t need his help. Well, at least not to run the house, and as to finding the place, surely any number of drivers would be willing to assist her.
“I’m done with the ranch.” The beans bubbled, and he moved the pot to the table, took three bowls from the cupboard, and tossed three spoons beside them. “Supper is served.”
“Then why don’t you sell it?” She sat on one of the creaky wooden chairs and drew Eddie to her lap. Her son reached for a bowl, but she caught his hands. “Wait for the man to sit down and for someone to say grace.”
“Yes, Mama.”
The second chair squawked as Jace lowered himself to the seat. He scooped beans into each bowl, slid one closer, and shoved the other two toward them. Was he going to pray, or was he not inclined to do so?
His shoulders rose and fell. “Don’t look at me like I’m a heathen. My folks taught me well, and so did Chet. I’ll ask the blessing.” He bowed his head and murmured a quick prayer. “Amen.”
Jace spoke as if he asked the blessing out of habit or duty because he’d been so taught. What did he believe? Would she be any safer if he confessed to believing as she did in a God of justice and mercy who would never abandon her?
Eddie dug into the food like he hadn’t eaten for days.
Dianne took her time.
“I could sell the place.” Jace’s voice was soft and perhaps even desperate.
He answered her question. She’d wondered if he would.
“But”—he pointed his spoon toward her—“I don’t need to now that you’re here.”
“Now that I’m—oh. No. I’m not going to take the ranch. Even if I knew the first thing about running one, I have no claim to it.”
Eddie’s gaze went from her and back to Jace. “You gots cows?”
“The ranch does.”
Legally, the cows on the ranch were his, but he seemed unwilling to accept that. Strange.
“You gots horses?”
“The ranch does.”
“And chickens?” Eddie squirmed from Dianne’s knees to lean on the table, quivering with excitement at the idea.
Jace nodded.
“Doggie?”
“One, yes. He’s black and friendly.”
“What his name?”
Dianne could best describe Jace’s look as reluctant.
“Skip.”
“Mama, he gots a dog named Skip.” Big blue eyes, so much like his father’s, stared at her.
“I heard.” Patience intertwined with wariness. Would they even be going to the ranch now that Chet was dead? Jace said she could have the place, but she didn’t want a ranch—only a home. But if Jace wasn’t going to take ownership, would he sell it? And then where would she go?
She must persuade him to change his mind.
Jace scraped his bowl clean. Why didn’t Dianne stop her son from asking so many questions? Though by rights, he should call her Mrs. White. She’d lost her husband and come all this way seeking a home. He almost felt sorry for her.
“You gots a kitty?” Seemed the boy meant to assess every animal on the place.
Should he tell him of the mice in the loft? The wild animals in the woods? Jace managed not to smile at the idea. “We do have cats.” To end this conversation, he gathered the dirty dishes and carried them to the washbasin.
“I’ll do that.” Mrs. White or Dianne—what was he to call her and, more importantly, how was he to think of her?—hurried to his side.
“It’s eight items counting the pot I heated the beans in and the spoon I stirred them with. I think I can manage.”
She jerked back.
Had he sounded rude? He didn’t mean to. “You can dry if you wish.” He flicked a worn bit of linen towel to her.
Neither of them spoke, and Eddie amused himself by digging his thumbnail along the edge of the table.
Jace didn’t intend to return to the ranch. And the woman was right in thinking she couldn’t manage it. The best thing would be for her to change her plans. Find a home somewhere else.
“Perhaps you should go live with your parents. Surely, they’d give you a home.”
The bowl she dried hung midair. The towel drooped from her hand. She stared at the stove, though he guessed she wasn’t seeing it. Finally, she sighed. “My parents are both dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Husband and parents gone. Seemingly without leaving her provided for.
“Siblings?”
“None.” She dried the bowl and set it in the cupboard and then faced him, her eyes burning with emotion.
“If you’re hoping to find another place for me to live, I’ll tell you right here and now, there isn’t such a place.
Why else would I make a long weary trip west and travel on a very uncomfortable stagecoach with the plan to throw myself on the kindness of a man I only met once, years ago?
” She took the three spoons and dried them with undue vigor.
He waited, silent and wary. Thankfully, the ax rested against the chair she sat on while she ate.
When she seemed calmed down, he offered another solution. “Now that you’re in the West, it would be easy to find a home. Lots of men are willing and eager to welcome a woman. Marriage included.”
The look she shot him iced his skin.
“I am not about to sell myself to a stranger in order to have a home.” She closed her eyes and sucked in air. “Here’s what I propose. You escort us to Chet’s ranch. Run the place as he meant for you to do. And I’ll keep house, make meals, and generally take care of the house.”
“I don’t want the ranch. I don’t want to go back there.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.” Which he did not intend to tell her.
“Mama.” Eddie’s urgent tone drew his mother’s attention. “I gots to go.”
Mrs. White tossed Jace the towel, took her son’s hand, and headed for the door. “You do have an outhouse?”
“Just past the shed. Wait. This high in the mountains, it cools off at night.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door and hung it over her shoulders, then folded the blanket and draped it shawl-like over Eddie.
Mrs. White—Dianne—Shoot! Why was he struggling to think of her one way or the other?—murmured thanks and stepped from the cabin.
Jace hovered at the door. It wasn’t his fault she’d come planning to live in Chet’s house. Nor was it his responsibility to ensure she was safely settled somewhere. Like he told her, there were plenty of options. Why, just a few weeks ago, he’d seen a notice in the general store.
Man with three children. Wife dead.
Need housekeeper.
Matrimony if suitable.
He’d also seen the shacks some of the men lived in, especially those searching for gold. Chet had commented several times that they weren’t fit for animals, let alone a wife and children.
Thinking of the fine home back on the ranch, Jace had agreed with him.
Well, no reason Dianne couldn’t live in the ranch house. He’d made that clear.
Now, all he had to do was convince her.