Chapter 18
She couldn’t stay.
Caroline’s mind and heart were still reeling from Jackson’s profession of love.
But, regardless of whether it changed things between them—and she wasn’t sure it had—her mind was made up about Walsh.
Continuing their alliance was wrong. She didn’t love him, and he deserved to be with someone who did.
Jackson didn’t need to know that, though. Not yet.
He watched her with eyes as dull as the low-hanging clouds above them, when she walked out and handed him her bundle of belongings.
“I have to go,” she said softly enough that the children wouldn’t overhear. “I need time to think. And if I end things with Walsh, he deserves to hear it face to face.”
Jackson exhaled a weary breath and nodded.
“When does Peggy plan to leave St. Louis?”
“In less than three weeks. She wants to be back home in time for Christmas.” Which meant Jackson would spend the holiday alone.
He tucked her things under the seat with the children’s bags then helped her up.
Caroline took her place on the bench and waited, cinching her scarf tighter against the early morning chill.
Barring delays, it would take four days to reach Greenvale, a couple of days to rest and meet with Walsh, and four days to return—if that’s what she decided.
Discovering the truth had reawakened her love for Jackson, but both of their hearts were wounded.
If they chose to travel the same path, it would be complicated and shadowed by secrets.
Noah rose up on his knees behind the bench, where he and Jewel were sitting on a quilt and wrapped in blankets. “I wish you didn’t have to go, Aunt Caroline.”
“I wish I didn’t either. I’ll send you a letter,” she added, giving him something to look forward to, “you and Jewel.”
“She doesn’t read yet, but I can read it to her if the words are small.”
“Sit down, son,” Jackson said. “The road gets bumpy once we leave the yard.” He waited for Noah to obey, then called to his team and set them in motion.
A farm wagon couldn’t match the speed or smooth ride of a carriage, so the trip to town was cold, rough, and long. The only thing in their favor was the lightness of the load.
As soon as they reached Sagebrush Springs, Noah was on his feet and at his father’s ear. “Can we stop by the sawmill and see if Mr. Green has any more puppies?”
Caroline cut her eyes to Jackson without moving her head. She didn’t envy his situation.
“We can,” he replied, “but I’m not taking one today. I’ll ask him to hold one out for a few more weeks, to give me time to decide.”
Noah’s shoulders lost a little of their starch. “All right.”
“I hope you decide yes,” Caroline said with a pointed look at Jackson. “Dogs make excellent companions.” The children would adore it, but he would need it worse if he sent them away.
Jackson pulled to a stop in front of the station.
Caroline kissed and hugged the children then let Jackson help her down.
“You should wire your parents when you reach Fort Kearny,” he said, handing over her bundle. “Let them know you’re on your way.”
“I will.”
Jackson looked miserable, and for a fleeting moment, Caroline got to taste the revenge she’d longed for so many times. But it was undeserved and wrong, and it left a sour flavor on her tongue.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’d best hurry if I’m going to catch the stage.”
“Be careful,” he said as she backed away.
He’d said be careful when what he’d wanted to do was drop to his knees and beg her not to leave, and if that failed, plead promise you’ll come back to me! Instead, he stood mute and watched her go with no assurance she’d return.
It sucked the life from him and surged his guilt to epic proportions. If the pain she’d felt when he married her sister was even a fraction of the anguish pumping through his chest, he deserved to lose everything.
“Papa,” Noah called, “can we go to the sawmill now?”
Jackson climbed back on the wagon and drove it down the road to the mill.
Noah jumped down as soon as they’d come to a stop. He barely waited for Jackson to hoist Jewel into his arms then nearly tripped on his trousers, running around back of the structure, to where Mr. Green had the puppies corralled. “Are there any left?” he asked, breathless.
Mr. Green poked his head out and joined them by the pen. “Sure, there are. But only them three.”
“Go ahead, Noah,” Jackson said. “Choose your favorite.”
Mr. Green chuckled as Noah climbed into the pen and was promptly mobbed by a band of wagging, licking canines. “Wore ya down, did he?”
“You have no idea.”
Jackson leaned over so Jewel could pet the puppies, too. None of the three could be called handsome, but they seemed in good health. “Do you see one you like?” he asked Noah.
Noah ceased playing and began looking each one over with a critical eye.
Two of them gamboled about, but the third sat on its haunches and looked at Noah, as if it was awaiting a command.
Noah stroked his head. “Do you want to be my dog?”
The pup barked and thumped his tail against the ground.
“I like this one,” Noah said.
The one he’d chosen had dingy gray fur with splotches of black. It looked like a white dog that had rolled in ashes then been splattered with a brush from an oil bucket. The only thing the pup had to recommend it was a cheerful disposition and striking pale-blue eyes.
Jackson pulled a few dollars from his pocket and held them out to Mr. Green. He was a freed slave, too, working hard to make a life for himself, just like Celia. “I’m still deciding about the dog. Can you hold on to him for a couple more weeks?”
He waved the money away. “I’ll keep the pup for free. If’n you change yer mind, thens you can pay me.”
Jackson spent several minutes chatting with Mr. Green then took the children to Celia’s and returned to the farm.
The pasture was full of activity, but the house was dismal…
soundless and empty. If Caroline didn’t return, this would be his existence for years to come, unless he found another woman willing to become his wife and mother to his children.
But he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted her.
The trip to Greenvale took six days. Heavy snow and ice slowed the train to a crawl in Omaha. Then mechanical problems caused a twenty-hour delay in Indiana. By the time Caroline made it to Pennsylvania, she was travel-weary.
She’d kept her family apprised via telegram, and thus Walsh. She’d hoped to spare herself an extempore meeting with him by being vague about the exact time of her arrival to Greenvale, but he’d anticipated the schedule and was waiting for her at the station.
“Oh, my…” Walsh said as she stepped off the train.
She had only two mourning dresses, and she’d worn both several times.
He eyed her with a look that held more empathy than revulsion, bless him. “I was sorry to hear about the delays. You must be exhausted.”
She gave him a weak smile and attempted to smooth errant strands of hair. “I am.”
He offered his arm and began escorting her down the platform. “How was your trip otherwise?”
“It was poignant, of course, but time well spent. I met Amanda’s precious children, and I visited her grave.
” Walsh no doubt wanted more than a simplistic overview that included not a word about Jackson, but this was all she was willing to say until she’d had a warm bath and a full night’s rest. “Do I need to rent a carriage to take my trunk home?”
“No. I came in mine. I’ll pull it around and have the baggage handlers load it.”
Like so many times before, Walsh put her needs before his own.
He’d gone out of his way to meet her train and provide transportation.
He’d taken her not-so-subtle hint and ceased his questioning.
And he hadn’t commented on her odor, though it was foul enough that even she could smell it. He was an exceedingly good man.
Landon was waiting in the carriage. “Welcome home, Sis.”
“Did you come as my escort?” she asked as Walsh handed her up to him.
“Yup. I drew the short straw,” he said with a wink.
“I’m second to your equine friends,” she parried with a half-smile, “but I’ve accepted that.”
Landon wrinkled his nose as he scooted closer and handed the reins off to Walsh, but he didn’t comment on her odor either.
Making their way through the line to have her trunk loaded seemed to take forever. Caroline used the last of her energy to remain upright and hold her eyes open through that and the blessedly short ride home.
Walsh helped her down as Landon went in search of a brother to carry her trunk into the house. “I would have helped him,” he remarked, still holding her hand, “but he took off before I could.”
“You’ve done more than enough. Thank you for meeting me at the station.”
His eyes moved back and forth, searching hers. “May I call on you tomorrow?”
Caroline dreaded the conversation that would occur during Walsh’s next visit, but putting it off wouldn’t make it any less hard. And if she decided to return to Nebraska for a second chance with Jackson, she was running out of time.
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “A visit would be welcome. Though not too early, if you don’t mind.”
“How does two o’clock sound?”
“Two will be fine.”
Caroline fell into a boneless, dreamless sleep, but the muscles about her shoulders and neck immediately tightened upon waking, and her stomach grew queasier with every strike of the clock.
She had never been a shrinking violet—she could be assertive when the tack was called for—she simply didn’t relish hurting another human being, especially one who had turned out to be so exceptional.
The two-o’clock chimes had barely ended when Walsh’s knock echoed through the house.
Caroline schooled her entire countenance before opening the door and welcoming him. She didn’t want to bare her cards until the time was right, but neither did she want to stir false hope. “Please, forgive the lapse in decorum,” she said, referring to her gray attire. “My crape is still soaking.”