Chapter 5
The kitchen glowed with the soft light of dawn, the scent of sizzling bacon filling the air as Carrie stood at the stove, her hands trembling slightly.
Her first attempt at making breakfast without Irene’s help felt like stepping onto a tightrope with no net to catch her.
Years of office work managing Emmett Thorne’s correspondence and balancing his ledgers had left her fingers nimble with a pen but not so much with a spatula.
Yet the rhythm of cracking eggs, flipping bacon, and stirring oatmeal grounded her, tethering her to the present so she could forget, even if for just a while, the terror of her past. The clamor of the kitchen was a welcome distraction from the deafening silence of her memories, where there was only a horrifying canvas of Marcus Reed’s cold stare and the glint of that bloody letter opener on Thorne’s desk.
She had allowed it to happen. She had allowed Marcus Reed to enter the office, believing his guide.
Now, Jonathan Webb was dead, and she had been promised a similar fate at Reed’s hand.
“You’re doing fine, Catherine,” Irene said, as if sensing the young woman was zoning out and needed a gentle tug back to the present.
Catherine blinked and looked over. Iron-gray hair caught the light as the older woman kneaded dough for biscuits.
Catherine wondered if she would ever grow old enough to have hair that color.
“Just keep the heat low on those eggs. Men’ll eat ‘em any which way, but Josh likes them soft.”
Carrie nodded, her jet-black curls brushing her neck.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll remember.” She stole another glance at Irene, whose shrewd blue eyes held a mix of encouragement and curiosity, as if she were still trying to figure out what Carrie was all about.
She dropped her gaze back to the sizzling skillet.
The older woman’s kindness was a balm for her anxieties, but it also deepened the ache of Carrie’s deception.
Every time they spoke her alias, it felt like she was stealing something from these good people.
The kitchen door swung open. Josh stepped inside, his broad shoulders dusted with hay.
Morning stubble shadowed his jaw. His topaz eyes swept the room, landing on Carrie with a quiet intensity that sent an unexpected warmth unfurling in her chest, finding its way into every chamber of her heart so that it stuttered and forgot how to function.
She looked away, cheeks flushing, and busied herself with the eggs.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she scolded silently as she tried to still her shaking hands.
She let out a breath and closed her eyes for a moment, reminding herself that Josh was Thomas’s friend.
He was offering her a refuge only because he felt duty-bound.
“There is nothing else at play,” she thought, causing her heart to ache as if her ribcage had suddenly tightened around it.
“Morning, Ma. Catherine,” Josh said, his voice low enough that it had butterflies swirling in Carrie’s belly as he hung his hat on the peg. “Smells like heaven in here,” he added in the same velvet tone that made Carrie’s cheeks burn even hotter.
Irene snorted, brushing flour from her hands. “Flattery will not get you extra bacon, Joshua. Now, sit down.”
Carrie risked a glance as Josh pulled out a chair, his blond hair catching the light. “I hope it’s all right,” she said as she placed a plate piled with eggs and bacon in front of him. “I’m still learning.”
He grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling. The sparkle in his irises looked like starlight. Carrie felt her pulse skitter. “Looks better than anything I could manage. Thomas and Ma always said I could burn water if I tried.”
Her lips curved, and a soft laugh escaped before she could stop it.
She pressed a hand to her mouth as her own eyes twinkled, trying to picture Josh behind the stove.
“Thomas never mentioned that in his letters,” she said, setting a plate down for Irene.
“But he did say you were handy with a fence.”
Josh chuckled before digging into his eggs.
His eyes widened for a moment, lips pressed together to muffle an admiring moan that made Carrie brighten in her seat.
“Fences, cattle, horses,” he said after a moment.
“Out here, you have no choice but to be good at those things and countless others, too.” He shoveled a few more bites of breakfast into his mouth, each savored in a way that made Carrie nearly vibrate with pride.
“Speaking of which, I’m headed to the north pasture after breakfast. The storm last night tore up some posts.
I could use an extra pair of hands if you’re up for it, Catherine.
I would ask one of the ranch hands to help me, but they’re busy with other matters. ”
The offer caught her off guard, her fork pausing midair.
Outdoor work was foreign to her, and she didn’t have the first clue about mending fences, but the thought of fresh air and doing something truly tangible pulled at her.
Before she could think better of it, she nodded.
“I would like that,” she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies still swarming in her stomach. “If you don’t mind teaching me.”
His smile was warm and painted with approval. “Not at all. It’s simple work, but it takes patience. I am sure you’ll have no trouble getting the hang of it.”
Irene raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into an amused grin. “Careful, Catherine. He’ll have you roping calves next.”
Carrie’s laugh came more easily this time, the tightness in her chest loosening. “I’ll stick to fences for now, ma’am.”
With their plans set, the rest of the meal passed in a hum of conversation, with Irene teasing Josh about a boyhood mishap involving a beehive and Josh firing back with a story about her over-salting a stew for a church potluck that had the whole town drinking like fish.
Carrie listened to the banter, her guard slipping as the warmth of their familial bond wrapped around her like a quilt.
For a moment, she could almost imagine herself becoming a permanent part of their fold and forgetting the secrets that haunted her past.
An hour later, she rode beside Josh toward the north pasture.
The morning air was crisp, scented with prairie grass and distant pine.
The mare beneath her was gentle, a far cry from the jostling stagecoach that had brought her out west. Ahead of her, the vastness of the prairie stretched out like a promise of peace.
Carrie’s eyes scanned the horizon out of habit, her vigilance a reflex aimed at keeping herself alive.
She had been running from wolves for much too long.
Yet the quiet rhythm of hoofbeats and the soft rush of wind through the overgrowth made her fears seem almost absurd.
“Here’s the trouble,” Josh said, reining in his horse near a stretch of splintered fence posts. He dismounted, his stocky frame moving with the easy grace of a seasoned rancher. “The storm snapped these clean. We will set some new posts and then string the wire so the animals cannot get through.”
Carrie slid from the saddle, her boots sinking into the soft earth. “Just tell me what to do,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear.
Josh handed her a pair of gloves, his calloused fingers brushing hers.
She nearly flinched at the spark that came from the contact.
It electrified her skin and sent goosebumps running up the length of her arm.
Had he felt it too? He had seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he, too, were trying to make sense of the sensation. Or was she only imagining it?
“Start by holding this post steady while I dig. Keep it plumb–straight up and down,” he said, as if nothing had happened, as if the world had not momentarily stopped at his touch.
Carrie nodded, gripping the post as he shoveled, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt.
The young woman averted her gaze, a blush creeping across her freckles.
She focused on the trim of his hat and listened to his calm, patient voice as he explained each step, from tamping the earth to twisting the wire.
“You’re a natural,” he said, watching her work. “Not everyone catches on this quickly.”
The tips of her ears warmed at the praise. She held her breath, focusing on the wire, only to find her fingers had suddenly become clumsy. “It’s… satisfying,” she admitted. “Seeing something fixed by your own hand.”
Josh’s eyes crinkled, and that starlight returned, orbiting his irises. “That’s ranching. Fixing what’s broken, one post at a time.”
They continued along the fence, working side by side as the sun climbed higher, their movements settling into a quiet rhythm.
When Carrie managed to twist a wire loop to the right tightness all on her own, Josh stepped back, his hands on his hips.
“Well, look at that,” he said, his smile wide and genuine.
“I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
Her heart stuttered, and she felt her face grow warm all over again. “Hardly,” she said, brushing dirt from her hands. “But thank you.”
For a moment, their eyes locked as the prairie breeze stirred between them.
Carrie’s breath caught, the connection sparking something she had not felt in years.
Hope. Or maybe something dangerously close to it, trying to take root in her chest, where once there was nothing but the barren depths of emptiness, sown with fear.
Was it possible for something new to grow there and chase away the darkness?
The ride back to the ranch was pleasant, their conversation flowing like a stream.
Josh spoke of his dreams for the ranch, from expanding the herd to building a new barn.
“Thomas had big plans, too, you know,” he said, his voice softening from the vibrant tone he had used just a moment earlier, as if the color had drained from his words, leaving only the dullness of loss.
“He wanted to start a family and leave behind a legacy. I reckon that’s why he wrote to you. ”
Carrie’s chest tightened, but she found herself sharing a memory, the truth slipping out before she could stop it.
“My father was a minister, and every night he would read to me. Mostly, they were stories from the Bible. I loved hearing the sound of his voice.” She froze as the words echoed in her mind, her heart racing.
But Josh only looked at her with a gentle expression. “Sounds like a good man. You miss him?”
“Every day,” she whispered, then caught herself before more of the truth slipped out.
“Too much, too soon,” she told herself as her fingers curled, nails pressing into the skin of her palm.
Why was she bothering to open up to Josh at all?
There was no excuse for letting her guard slip so easily when the dark truths she hid—Thorne’s murder, Reed’s pursuit—could destroy this family.
Unease churned in her chest, cold and sharp.
“I… I shouldn’t take up any more of your time,” she said, her voice tight. “You have got work to do.”
Josh’s brow furrowed. “There’s always time to talk,” he said, his tone kind, but the way his gaze turned to a searching one had Carrie fidgeting in place, as if he might see right through her and connect the dots of her misaligned stories.
“You’re no trouble, Catherine,” he added after a moment.
“And if you ever need someone to listen, I’m always here. ”
She forced herself to smile. “Keep your distance,” she told herself, keeping her gaze fixed on the ranch house ahead. For their sake and her own, she needed to stay guarded, no matter how much Josh’s kindness and his ocean eyes threatened to undo her carefully built walls.