Chapter Twenty-Eight
That very night Nora couldn’t sleep. She lay for hours with her eyes wide open, watching the moonlight crawl along the ceiling, while her hands kept clenching in the bedsheets, as if they might steady her if something burst through the door.
She could still see Nash’s eyes and the wild, cornered, vengeful look in them.
Each creak of the house felt louder than the last, the pop of wood here and there, the wind slapping the shutters.
Was that a hoofbeat out by the fence… Or is that my imagination again?
The truth was, she really couldn’t tell. And she would flinch at all of it.
Once, just before dawn, a branch scraped the roof, and she sat upright.
Her breath was shallow and quick, and she was ready to run or fight.
But there was nothing, just the quiet, and the slow, suffocating ache of fear pressing down on her ribs.
She exhaled and turned to the other side, hoping she could at least rest her eyes for a bit.
By first light though, she got up, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and padded down the stairs barefoot, careful not to wake Mary Jane.
But her thoughts were still wild and tangled. What if Nash is close by, hiding, watching, waiting? What if—
A floorboard behind her let out a loud groan, and for one blind second her mind screamed. It’s him…It’s him…He found us!
But when she turned, it was only Mary Jane, standing at the top of the stairs in her nightdress, rubbing her eyes with both hands.
“Why are you up already?” Nora asked. She noticed the way her breath was caught in her throat, so she cleared it in order to sound more cheerful. “I mean, why aren’t you asleep, little bug? It’s too early for you to be awake.”
Mary Jane shrugged. “I heard you going downstairs,” she said sleepily. “I thought maybe there was something fun going on. And I didn’t want to miss it.”
Nora forced herself to relax. She gave Mary Jane the warmest smile she could manage, even though her insides felt like they were unraveling one breath at a time.
“Come down, sweetheart,” she said gently. “I’ll make you some toast.”
Mary Jane’s eyes brightened. “Can we go see the horses later?” she asked. “You said they were almost all better. I bet they miss me.”
Nora tiredly nodded, brushing a hand over the girl’s hair as she reached the last step and pulled her into a warm hug. “They probably do...”
A proud grin appeared on Mary Jane’s face. And that only meant more questions Nora had to find decent answers for.
“And can we go to the pond, too?” she went on eagerly. “I want to find the frog with the white belly again.”
“We’ll see,” Nora said softly.
“Oh! And I forgot…” Mary Jane gasped, as if she had just remembered the most important thing in the world. “Can I have cinnamon on my toast like last time?” The kind that makes my mouth all warm?”
Nora let out a drained, exhausted chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“But I’m really, really hungry now,” Mary Jane added, playfully spinning on the rug.
“Your belly will be full any time now, little bug,” Nora promised with a smile, though her legs felt like they were made of stone. It made her fight for her breath with each step.
I can’t let Mary Jane see that I’m weak...that I’m scared. Whatever happens at this ranch, she doesn’t need to carry it.
But even as Nora laughed with her during breakfast, every word she said felt like a thread pulled tight in a worn seam.
She couldn’t keep her sister busy anymore, not with Mary Jane’s endless questions, or her own hands trembling over dishes when breakfast was over.
So instead, she knelt beside the bookshelf in the parlor and pulled out Little Women.
It was definitely one of Mary Jane’s favorites.
And it will keep my mind occupied, at least for a while.
“Let’s read a little before chores,” Nora announced. “It’s a cozy kind of morning, don’t you think?”
Mary Jane blinked, obviously surprised. “Before feeding the animals?”
“Before everything,” Nora said, patting the couch . She pulled the blanket over them both as Mary Jane nestled in, warm and small by her side. Nora read slowly, and her voice sounded smooth, even though her ears strained with every other noise she could hear, both in the room and outside.
“I am not afraid of the storms,” Nora read, “for I am learning to sail my ship.”
Mary Jane let out a soft breath and leaned her head on Nora’s shoulder. “Who said that part?” she whispered.
“Jo,” Nora murmured, brushing a curl from the girl’s forehead. “She’s very brave.”
Mary Jane nodded and looked her sister in the eyes. “Like you?”
Nora put the book down for a moment. She felt her chest tighten before she could answer, especially because she thought of herself anything but brave lately. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “But I try.”
“But you’re the bravest woman I know,” Mary Jane exclaimed, giving her sister a big hug. “I want to be just like you when I grow up.”
Nora exhaled without a word. She didn’t deserve that kind of praise, not when fear gripped her like a fist, when every hour felt like walking a tightrope over a bottomless valley. Oh, I’m not brave, sweet Mary Jane…I’m pretending. Because I’m so tired of everything...
She looked down at her sister. She was so tiny, so trusting, so certain Nora knew how to protect her from all the dangers lingering outside. It was a terrible thing, this burden of being someone’s hero. But at that point, Nora realized that it was also the one thing that kept her going.
“I’ll do my best,” she whispered, kissing the top of Mary Jane’s head. “I promise.”
And she meant it. Even if her hands shook, even if Nash was out there in the dark, waiting, she would not let him steal this, not this moment in the soft golden light of morning where a little girl still believed the world could be good.
Suddenly, Mary Jane sat up. “What’s that?”
The quiet hum of the morning had just been broken by a sharp clink, and shortly after that, with another.
It was a steady, monotonous rhythm. Nora stiffened.
She turned her ear toward the sound, as her heart jolted and her mind tried to recognize the sound.
What is that…Metal…and wood? Is that…Is that someone hammering outside?
“I‘m not sure,” Nora said, rising slowly and setting the book aside. She moved toward the window, parting the curtain with careful fingers. Oh, thank God. It’s just Weston.
Out beneath the cottonwood tree near the barn, she saw Weston securing something to one of the thick branches with a hammer in hand. Her eyes then landed on an old rope, looped and knotted, and beneath it, a worn rubber tire. She felt a breath of relief pass through her.
Before Nora could say a word, Mary Jane rushed to the door and flung it open, then ran barefoot across the porch.
“Is that for me?” she called out.
“It sure is.”
Nora heard Weston’s voice, and when she stepped outside, Mary Jane let out a whoop and ran even faster. The hem of her nightgown fluttered as she dashed across the yard. “You built me a swing!”
Weston stepped forward and gave the tire a gentle push.
“Do you like it?” he asked. “You can now fly like a bird.”
Mary Jane let her head fall back as she soared forward, and her curls caught the morning light. “Yesssss!” she cried, laughing, her legs flailing through the air.
Weston laughed too, stepping back again as she swung higher, screaming with delight.
Nora glanced at him. He looked entirely at ease, like this small act of building something, of giving joy, was lifting his spirits.
And the good thing was, it was contagious.
For the first time since yesterday, she felt at peace.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said softly, feeling her sister’s happiness as if it was her own. “But thank you.”
“Every girl ought to have a swing,” Weston replied, his eyes still on Mary Jane.
“She’s enjoying every moment of it. You made her laugh, despite everything that happened yesterday…”
They stood side by side, their shoulders brushing closely. She could feel his strength, his will to make this work. The breeze stirred gently between them, carrying the sound of rope creaking and Mary Jane’s laughter echoing through the yard.
“But you’re the one who kept her laughing longer than most could. Many women would have given up a long time ago, you know.” He glanced at her soberly.
“I don’t know if that’s true.” She looked down at her hands. “Some days I feel like I’m just…patching holes in a sinking ship. I feel like I could do better.”
“We can always do better tomorrow,” he agreed. “But what counts is that you’re doing your best now.”
“Is that supposed to be comforting?” she teased, trying without much success to hide a smile.
“Only if it works.” He smiled back, and Nora caught her breath.
That smile came from deep within, from knowing who he was and choosing kindness anyway.
It said, I see you. I see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way you hold everything together even when it’s falling apart.
I see the effort no one else notices, the quiet strength beneath your fear.
I see the fire still burning in you, even when you’re too tired to feel it. And I admire you for it.
It said, You don’t have to pretend with me.
It said, You’re not alone anymore.
It said, You are enough, as you are, right now. Here, with me.
She kept looking at him, trying to keep her face still, to show no more emotion than needed.
But the longer her eyes lingered on him, watching the way the morning light touched his strong jaw, the way it deepened his eyes, watching the calm in his posture, the harder it became to hide the rush rising inside her.
Her skin tingled and heat climbed up her neck, blooming across her cheeks. She blinked and looked away quickly, hoping he hadn’t seen what she couldn’t quite contain.
They hadn’t talked much about the kiss, at least not openly. But ever since, there’d been a quiet tension threaded between them. The way they looked at each other had changed; she could sense it. There was a quiet awareness between them now.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just watched Mary Jane spin through the air like she didn’t have a care in the world. But that wasn’t the case with Nora, and part of her had to say so.
“What do you think will happen?” she asked.
The words left her before she had time to think about them twice, and that surprised her. She never liked sharing fears out loud, but something about standing beside Weston made her feel safe, safe enough to say what she hadn’t even dared to tell herself.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Her eyes stayed on the horizon. For some reason, she still didn’t have the guts to look him in the eyes.
“To the ranch. To us,” she replied. “If Nash doesn’t stop. If the law doesn’t catch up to him. If this…all of this…falls apart.”
As soon as the words left her, she regretted saying them. Not because they weren’t true, but because she hated the way they sounded out loud. They were grim and heavy, and that wasn’t the weight she had meant to place on Weston’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t mean to dump all that on you. It’s just… sometimes it builds up, and I—”
“It’s okay,” Weston said gently. “You don’t have to apologize.
Nora, I understand…more than you think. You’re carrying a lot.
You’re allowed to be tired, to be scared.
” He took her hand. “But remember, you’re not carrying it alone anymore.
Nothing’s going to happen to you, or to Mary Jane. Not with me here.”
Before Nora could respond, Mary Jane’s voice rang out across the yard again.
“I’m flying!” she shouted from the swing, as her legs kicked toward the sky. “If I go any higher, I’m gonna land on the moon!”
Nora turned, and when she saw her goofy sister truly believe she might launch herself into the sky, her laughter broke free.
It was bright and sudden, spilling out before she could stop it.
There was something so pure about it, so Mary Jane, as she swung high with her tiny head tilted back with joy and her hair let loose in the wind.
“Well,” Nora called back, “make sure to write us a postcard from up there!”
“And bring back some cheese,” Weston added playfully. “I heard the moon’s made of it.”
“Really?” Mary Jane asked, her eyes wide. “I can eat it?”
Nora glanced over at Weston. “She really thinks she could eat the whole sky.”
“She just might,” he murmured, still watching Mary Jane. “And that’s the best part. She might do whatever she sets her mind to, as long as we’re here to support her.”
For a moment, all was light and laughter and morning breeze, and Nora could feel hope again. And the quiet, growing truth that Weston might just be right. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Or to Mary Jane. Not with me here.
She hadn’t gone looking for a man like Weston Crane. But somehow, without even meaning to, he had become exactly what she needed. He wasn’t a hero riding in to save the day, but a man who stayed when it mattered most.
And despite everything, despite the threats, the sleepless nights, the ache of always holding things together, Nora let herself simply be. As Mary Jane swung higher, shouting out to the clouds, and Weston stood beside her, she felt lucky. She already had everything she’d ever dreamed of.