Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The only thing keeping Jace from taking the stairs three at a time was consideration for Dianne.
He didn’t want her to think he was trying to get away from her when quite the opposite was true.
He saw the possibility of them both being on the ranch and her smiling across the table at him each mealtime.
That wasn’t possible. His plans to leave hadn’t changed.
But being around Dianne and her son tugged at him to stay.
If he lingered in the cellar with her any longer, he’d have asked permission to kiss her.
And how did that fit with leaving? Racing up the stairs seemed like a good way of outrunning his thoughts.
He held out a hand to help her from the last step and closed the trapdoor after her. His palms burned at how hard he rubbed them up and down on the side of his trousers—time to pull himself back to rights.
“Why don’t I bring the wagon, and we’ll take Eddie exploring?” Before she answered, he was out the door and rushing across the yard.
“I come?” Eddie called.
Jace slowed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Tell your mama to prepare a picnic lunch.”
Whooping, the boy raced inside to tell his ma.
Skip stopped at the door and whined for his newfound friend.
At the little pasture, Jace studied the borrowed horses and wagon. He had to get them back to their rightful owner. He shrugged. Not today.
Chet had a much better wagon and finer horseflesh, and Jace hitched the animals to the wagon and headed back to the house. His path took him by the ashes of the barn, and he clenched his jaw. He didn’t deserve to enjoy any of the things Chet had acquired and built up.
He set the thought of Chet’s death from his mind.
Today, he would allow himself to enjoy the sunshine and the company.
Besides, he needed to show Dianne the place and convince her to stay.
She only needed the help of a competent foreman.
One he had yet to find. Part of him said it wasn’t his responsibility to do so, but a louder, more insistent portion argued he couldn’t leave Dianne and Eddie to figure out things. After all—
No, he didn’t care that much. He simply knew she didn’t have the experience to choose such a man.
Eddie waited as Jace drew to a halt in front of the house, bouncing up and down on the steps.
“I ready. I ready.”
Dianne came out holding a cloth-draped basket and carrying a quilt.
Neither of them moved as they studied each other across the distance.
“Skip can come?” Eddie’s question jolted Jace into action.
He jumped down, took the basket and quilt, and put them in the back.
Should he leave the dog here to guard the place?
Though what could he do if Al showed up?
And he didn’t trust an angry Al to treat the dog kindly.
It might be safer for Skip if he was with them.
“Sure, Skip can come.” He lifted Eddie into the back, tightening his arms about the small body.
His warmth and little-boy scent burrowed into Jace’s heart as if seeking a home.
Then he opened the tailgate and whistled for the dog to jump in.
Both the woman and the child had his thoughts twisting like a piece of hanging laundry attacked by a wind.
Rubbing his palms against his legs, he went to help Dianne to the seat.
Did he dream her fingers lingered longer than necessary, and her gaze lasted for several seconds?
Blinking away his unsteady thoughts, he climbed up, and they were on their way.
Dianne’s attention went from side to side. “Where are we going?”
Good question. He hadn’t thought of their destination, and yet he was headed toward one of his favorite spots. “It’s a place with a beautiful view.” Though why this particular place came to his mind without planning, surprised him.
Rather than try to understand, he pointed out the way the trees clung to the rocky side of the nearby cliff and helped her locate where a hawk’s nest hung in the tallest tree.
The trail, more often used by a rider on horseback than a wagon, remained rough enough in places to force her to hang on to her seat.
In other places, it spread out grassy and smooth with spring wildflowers dotting the landscape.
He might have stopped to let her examine them, but she’d see plenty when they reached their destination.
Minutes later, he halted the horses. “We’re almost there.
We’ll walk the rest of the way.” He helped her down and let Eddie and Skip from the back, grabbed up the picnic things, and then led them down a gentle slope, through a growth of trees, and into the open.
They stood on a green hillside that dipped down to a gurgling stream.
Rocky ridges rose on the other side and, behind them, the craggy mountains.
“Look!” He pointed out the mountain goats on the rocks.
She squinted until she made them out.
Eddie tugged on her arm. “I not see them.”
“I’ll help you.” Jace scooped up the boy and directed his gaze in the right direction.
“I see. I see.” He spun to Jace, pressed his warm little palm to Jace’s cheek, and pulled his attention to him. “Why they not fall down?”
The boy’s touch, soft yet insistent, made him smile. “I don’t exactly know except God made them to climb the mountains.” A Bible verse came to mind—
“‘He will make my feet like hinds’ feet, and He will make me to walk upon mine high places.’” Wonder softened her words. “That verse has taken on a whole new meaning.”
Eddie squirmed to be down, and he and Skip trotted down the slope to where the land flattened out.
Jace and Dianne followed. At the level area, Jace left the picnic items on a flat rock and then pivoted full circle to take in his surroundings. “I used to spend hours here, but I haven’t been in a long time.”
Her gaze was on him. Steady. Curious.
He didn’t look directly at her, conscious of how close to the surface his feelings pressed.
“What brought you here in the past?”
Had she guessed there was a driving reason?
“I suppose it was a place I could feel sorry for myself without Chet knowing.” He did not want pity. Nor did he want scolding.
“Ah. You came here to listen to your heart.”
The words jolted through him. Landing dead center of his being.
“I suppose that’s true in a way. Everyone in my family was gone.
I needed to be alone and think about all the things that had happened to me.
” He thought those troubles were dead and buried, but they rushed back with fresh vigor.
“I felt abandoned.” And now he was alone again of his own doing.
Her fingers curled around his hand. She led him to a rock where she sat and drew him down beside her. “I know the hurt and fear of being alone.”
Of course, she did. He turned his palm to hers and squeezed.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, her hand in his.
“It’s nice here,” she murmured. “Peaceful.”
“I’ve always found it so.” He inhaled sweet mountain air. “I suppose it’s why I came.” His gaze went to the trees bordering the clearing, to a slab of upright wood. The names he’d carved on it were still visible.
She followed the direction of his look. The marker was more than half hidden in the shadows. Would she make it out?
“What’s that? It looks like—” Her gaze returned to his. She blinked her uncertainty. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I’ll show you.” He rose and pulled her to her feet, retaining her hand as they climbed the steep slope.
Time would wear away the letters. Eventually, they’d be forgotten, but not while he was alive.
He touched each name. Reynolds family. Died 1864.
John Reynolds, Father. Ada Marie, Mother.
Sarah age 8, Sister. Mary age 6, Sister.
As always, a sharp pain stabbed him in the chest. He clamped a hand over it to contain it.
“Tell me about them.” Dianne’s gentle voice soothed his tight ribs. She sat on the ground, her skirts spread around her legs and patted the spot beside her.
Without hesitation, he sat cross-legged at an angle. He wanted to be close, to absorb her comfort, but he also wanted to be able to see her eyes, her face, her reactions.
“I was nine when Sarah was born, eleven when Mary was born. I took my role of big brother very seriously. I built a little wagon, and Pa found wheels for it. I’d take the two little girls on rides.
Mary always made her voice bump along to the roughness of the trail.
” Laughter gurgled at the memory. “Sarah was the more serious of the two. I accused her of being a little mama.” The back of his nose stung, and he pressed his finger against it.
Dianne took that hand and drew it to her lap, enclosing it between her palms.
Warmth crept up his arm and eased the tightness in his throat.
He told her of reading to the girls, of putting them to bed when his parents were out, and sometimes when they weren’t as the girls begged for Jace to hear their prayers.
He shared his memories of clapping at their school recitations.
“They loved winter because I would take them sledding.” This wooden slab with their names on it was all he had left of them besides the few items he’d salvaged from the wagon.
“I have Pa’s Bible and Ma’s favorite poetry book.
I have the girls’ rag dolls. I guess it’s strange for a grown man to have dolls.
” He ducked his head but watched her from under the curtain of his lashes.
She leaned closer so she looked into his eyes. “Jace, I think it’s very sweet.”
Her answer brought a smile to his lips that fled as quickly as it came. “Now my family is ended.”
“You’re wrong.” She let the words hang in the air between them. “You are the family now.”