Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Jace hurried across to the bunkhouse, his thoughts whirling around him like a winter storm. He wanted to stay with Dianne and Eddie. But could he have any part of this ranch? It didn’t seem possible. Or did he mean it didn’t seem right? Not after what he’d done.
The next few days, he threw himself into work.
Cleaning up the debris from the fire was a bigger job than he expected.
Even with Cal and Lee helping. And Eddie, of course.
He couldn’t keep the cowboys here much longer.
Someone needed to check on the herd to make sure they didn’t wander too far back into the mountains.
But day after day, he didn’t send them away, and they didn’t ask to go. Maybe because of the excellent food Dianne fed them.
This morning, it had been thick slices of bread she’d baked yesterday, fried potatoes, heaps of eggs—thanks to the flock of chickens she tended so well. Some mornings, they had rhubarb pie. Now, that was an excellent way to start the day. Lunchtime had been hearty soup, more bread, and a pudding.
The thought of food, served by a smiling Dianne, so occupied his thoughts he stared at the wet spot on his hand. Where had that come from? Something stung his cheek, and he looked up. Dark clouds twisted overhead. A cold wind blasted against his skin.
“Head for cover.” He grabbed Eddie and ran for the house.
Cal and Lee unhitched the horses and led them away. They’d run for the bunkhouse as soon as the animals were in the pen.
Eddie laughed as Jace half dragged him across the yard, Skip bounding at their heels. Jace stopped under the veranda roof and turned. The rain spattered down, not yet coming in the torrents as it would in a few minutes.
In the distance, on a high ridge, something caught his eye. He squinted. Was it a moose or a man on horseback? Was Al still lurking nearby?
Jace gritted his teeth. He didn’t care for the man’s presence, but it gave him a reasonable excuse for staying at the ranch—one besides the longing of his wayward heart.
“Mama, it raining.”
She came to the door. “So I see. Looks like you got a little wet.” A few spots dotted the boy’s shirt. Not enough to qualify as even damp.
Eddie leaned back on his heels. “It’s nothin’.”
Jace snorted a laugh. They were his exact words when he pulled a sliver from his thumb, and Eddie’s eyes had filled with sympathetic tears. He answered Dianne’s questioning look with a slight nod to inform her that he’d tell her later.
Eddie had thudded upstairs as fast as his little legs would go and returned more slowly and cautiously. “See what I gots?” He held half a dozen carved animals. “Gramps made them. I show you.”
Jace followed him to the table where Eddie lined up the animals. “Dog. Cat. Horse. Lamb. Baaa.” He looked up at Jace, waiting for his response and seemed pleased when Jace chuckled.
“Cow. Moo. Chicken.” He made a screeching sound such as the birds gave when Eddie tried to pick them up, which brought a roar of laughter from Jace.
“You play.” Eddie moved the horse and cow in Jace’s direction and hesitated before he allowed him to have the lamb.
Unsure what the game entailed, Jace waited and followed Eddie’s lead. The animals moved along an imaginary road and stopped to eat imaginary food. Sometimes, they talked to imaginary people.
It was quite fascinating and reminded him of his sisters’ playing make-believe with their dolls.
Aware of Dianne puttering in the kitchen, he shifted to watch her as well as participate in the game. She rolled out dough and sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon. Rolled the dough into a log, cut it into individual pieces, and set them to rise.
“Cinnamon buns. I haven’t had them since we headed west. Ma used to make them often.”
Dianne placed the last one on the baking tray. “I hope mine compare favorably with your mother’s.”
“I’m sure they will because they’re both made with—” Love? Was he crazy? Why would he think that? At least he hadn’t blurted it out. Aware of her waiting for him to finish, he added, “Care.”
After that, he kept his attention on Eddie.
“Will Cal and Lee come in for supper?”
A glance out the window showed rain pouring down. “They have slickers and appetites, so they’ll come.”
“Good.” She put meat in a pot and peeled potatoes. The cinnamon buns were in the oven, sweetening the air with spice.
A little later, she handed Eddie a pot and a big spoon. “You stand on the veranda out of the rain and bang this until they come.”
Eddie didn’t need any encouragement, and soon the earsplitting sound filled the air. Dianne cringed as she washed the table and set it. She bent closer to speak to Jace.
“What was ‘it’s nothing’ about?”
Amusement curled around each word as he explained.
She looked in Eddie’s direction. “He could be learning good things at least.”
Did she sound displeased? “You don’t care for what he’s learning?”
Her eyes narrowed, and then she laughed. “Just teasing. He seems happy. What more can I ask for?”
Her question lingered as the cowboys joined them for the meal.
After they’d eaten, Eddie showed them his animals and enticed them into a game.
Lee seemed inclined to linger, but Cal nudged him. “We got things to do.” With thanks for the meal and calling good night, they tromped back to the bunkhouse.
By rights, Jace should go too, but Eddie must have read his intent. “You put me to bed?”
So, of course, Jace agreed, and it wasn’t a difficult decision. When he came down after saying good night to the boy, Dianne was already in the sitting room with tea and cookies on the table, but no checkers game set out.
“You don’t want to play now that you know I can beat you?”
“I knew you weren’t trying.” Laughter bubbled around her words. “No, I just don’t feel like playing tonight.”
“What do you want to do?” He sat opposite her and sipped his tea.
“You mentioned something about a book of poems that was your mother’s. I don’t see any such book.” She indicated the bookshelves. “I kind of wanted to look up that poem you quoted.”
“It’s in my room. I’ll fetch it.”
Before he got to his feet, she caught his hand. “No. That’s fine. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“I don’t mind.” He truly didn’t. He hadn’t opened that book since he arrived at the ranch, and now, he wanted to remember his mother’s presence and hear her voice again.
Upstairs, he unearthed the book from the bottom of the wardrobe, on top of Pa’s Bible, and beside the two limp dolls.
He set the dolls upright, but their heads drooped.
Their posture tugged at a thread in his heart, one somehow connected to the pain of losing his sisters.
If they wouldn’t sit, he’d lay them down.
But that bothered him, so he sat them up and propped them side by side so their heads tipped toward each other and stayed in place.
Satisfied, he was downstairs again before he realized he’d brought Pa’s Bible as well as Ma’s book of verses. Too late now to put it back with the dolls.
The floorboards squeaking beneath his boots, he returned to the sitting room. “It’s chilly in here. I’ll light the fire.” He handed her the two books. “Feel free to browse through them.”
He took his time building the fire, watching her out of the corner of his eyes as she turned page after page on Ma’s book.
“I found it.” She read it aloud.
Drawn by memories and the beauty of the poem, he sat in the chair opposite her, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes.
“It’s beautiful.” Dianne’s voice was soft as butterfly wings, gentle as the pink of dawn, and he kept his eyes shut as he bathed in the moment.
The rustle of pages turning informed him she was looking further.
“Jace, did you know there is a message for you in your pa’s Bible?”
That jerked him upright. “There is? I’ve never touched either of these since I stowed them away in my room.” He leaned closer, his eyes burning with a thousand things—regret, sorrow, the sense of waste in their early passing, and most of all, a great hollow loneliness. “What does it say?”
“Do you want me to read it?” She edged the Bible toward him. “Maybe you should.”
“I don’t think I can.”
Her eyes lingered, searching and filling with compassion.
“Very well. It’s beside a verse he’s underlined.
‘The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.’” She cleared her throat. “His writing is very shaky.”
Jace breathed through his mouth.
Her throat clearing echoed throughout the room and rattled inside his head.
“This is what it says. ‘The girls drew their last breath this morning. Mother is still struggling but won’t make it much longer. Nor will I. Only Jace remains. Lord, he’ll be so hurt.
Can You guide him to a happy, productive life?
I know he tends to take on too much, blames hisself when things go wrong.
Jace, I want you to live a life free of guilt and condemnation.
The sort of life God can provide. I love you, Son. ’”
Jace’s throat tightened like someone had dropped a rope over his head and snagged it to a team of horses pulling hard. His nostrils flared as he tried to suck in air. How had Pa known Jace would think he failed to protect his family? His throat relaxed marginally because Pa knew him and loved him.
An ache as dark and hollow as a deep cave bored out his insides.
What Pa didn’t know was how his son would be responsible for the death of the man who rescued him, nurtured him, and treated him like a son.
Jace’s muscles coiled, prepared to leap to his feet and tear from the room. But Dianne eased forward and touched his knee. His muscles uncoiled.
“Jace, your pa was right. You take on too much.”
She might have more to say, but he silenced her with a dismissive grunt. Or he thought he signaled he didn’t want to hear more.
Instead of staying quiet, she squeezed his knee. “You blame yourself for the fire that took Chet’s life, and I understand that. But—”
“There is no but.” He growled the words.
“Do you take over God’s role in life?”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply. Obviously didn’t want to hear what he’d say. Of course, he’d deny it.
“God is the One who decides if we live or die.” She sat back, looking almost smug.
“Are you saying God killed Chet?” Each word carried the sharpness of a well-honed knife.
Dianne shivered at his tone. At his accusation.
“I guess I didn’t say that well.” But when she sought a better way, none came.
“Jace, all I know is you can’t live in guilt forever.
Forgive yourself and follow the path your pa and Chet would want for you.
” The one she wanted him to choose as well, but she wouldn’t mention that.
His eyes flared with the reflection of the flames in the fireplace.
The air between them shimmered. He drew in a deep breath.
Silence hovered as he studied her, seeking answers she didn’t have.
He blinked once, twice. His shoulders rose and fell.
Another deep breath lifted his chest. “Dianne, do you want me to stay? I don’t mean to run the ranch. I mean, do you want me to stay?”
Her smile came readily and widely. Her answer was certain. “Jace, I would like you to stay.” After all, it was his ranch, but that wasn’t the reason for her answer. “I want you to stay.”
His answering smile warmed her heart with hope and promise.
“Then I’ll stay.” He clasped her hands between his.
“I’m glad.” Although she waited, hungering for more, an offer to make this permanent, even a declaration of his feelings for her, all he offered was a beaming smile that lit the room and settled into her heart.
Still holding her hands, he grew intense. “I’ll arrange to have the barn rebuilt. I’ll need to hire more cowboys.” With the suddenness of a clap of thunder, he sat back, his expression dark.
“What is it?” What had brought on this sudden change in his demeanor?
“I’ll find a way of dealing with Al, so you and Eddie are safe in your home.” Fierceness steeled his jaw.
“I don’t want you doing anything to put yourself in danger.”
His expression softened. “I won’t do that.”
The evening passed as they drank tea and ate cookies, and he made plans for the ranch.
His words raced from him as if he’d been holding them behind a dam.
He likely had done exactly that after Chet’s death and learning the contents of Chet’s will.
All along, he wanted the ranch but couldn’t let himself accept it.
The words his pa had penned and perhaps growing fondness for Dianne and Eddie had persuaded him to change his mind. At least she believed her presence had some influence in his decision.
When she no longer hid her yawns, he rose. “I’ll say good night.” He drew her close and smiled down into her upturned face. “I look forward to more evenings like this.”
“As do I.” No more words were necessary as he kissed her slowly, gently.
She walked with him to the door and dropped the bar into place as he left. The rain had stopped. Through the misty window, she watched Jace cross the yard and enter the bunkhouse. For a minute, she lingered at the window.
If not for Al, things would be perfect. Well, except for one other detail. What sort of arrangement did Jace expect for them?
She prayed for Al to be dealt with and for Jace to voice his feelings. Then she fell asleep.
Over the next few days, a sweetness developed between them.
He was kind and helpful as he’d always been, but the little secret smiles he favored her with were different.
If only words accompanied them. For now, she contented herself with what existed between them.
But soon—very soon—she was going to find a way to encourage him to tell her how he felt about her.
She was certain he loved her, but she needed to hear him say so.
Until he did, a little thread of uncertainty threatened to unravel everything.