CHAPTER 4
ARDEN
Every time I leave the town limits and find myself at Watts Ranch, I can’t help but look down the road with longing. Sagebrush is close, too close. I can feel this tug toward Ford, one that begs me to close the distance and give in.
I never do, though. I can’t.
It’s not like I would know what to say if I showed up at Ford’s door with my hat in hands, so to speak, and confessions on my lips.
What would he do if he found out I’m the one who has been sending letters for almost a year? Would he be disgusted? Would he be disappointed? Would he tell me to stop?
I’m not ready to face the answers to those questions. Honestly, I can’t imagine a time or situation where I would be ready to face those answers.
When I started writing the letters, it was just something I had to do. I had been thinking about it for a while, but as his 25th birthday approached, the need to do it couldn’t be ignored anymore. None of it makes sense, not really.
Which is why I’ve never told anyone, not even Eliza, about writing to him. I have no idea what my best friend would say if I told her.
At this point, considering she’s loved up and blissfully happy, she’d tell me to march my little self on down to Sagebrush and confess my hidden identity. But then it wouldn’t be hidden.
Not signing my name, only sticking a sunflower sticker to the paper at the bottom because they’re my favorite flower, allows me to just write to him. There aren’t any expectations. Nothing holds me back.
I can let the words flow and I can show him what is written on my heart, and let him in on the way my soul loves to dream.
I’ve been best friends with Eliza since basically the moment we showed up in Seneca Falls, but I’ve written thoughts and feelings to Ford, anonymously and safely, which I haven’t shared with her.
There’s beauty in not having to put a face to the words. There is freedom in him not knowing, even if it means I continue to watch him from afar.
What if he meets someone and builds a life? What will you do then?
My stomach knots and I push those questions down and lock them away. Those are the type of wonderings with the power to keep me up at night and freeze my hands when I sit with a piece of blank paper in front of me.
I don’t get the chance to let those questions fester because I don’t even get to the front door before Eliza is there and wrapping me up in a hug. Returning it is natural and she giggles while practically bouncing on her toes.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she gushes, but there’s something off in her tone.
“What are you up to?” My question is light and curious. She’s too excited and is up to something. I look her over and narrow my eyes before looking down at my own outfit. “Why are you dressed up?”
She huffs and rolls her eyes before grabbing me and pulling me into the house. “I spend so much time out here that someone coming over is the perfect excuse to dress up a little,” she explains.
“Okay,” I guess I can understand what she’s saying, but still. “How are things?” I hit my shoulder against hers, my voice dropping as I take in how my best friend is glowing.
I don’t even need her to answer. It’s written all over her face. She’s happy. Things are beyond good.
“It’s an adjustment,” she whispers, her face serious for a moment. Then her face breaks out into a huge smile, one that sparkles. “But it’s a good one. I love it out here and I love him.”
With a squeeze of her arm I nod slowly, my voice filled with warmth, “I’m happy for you, Eliza.”
“Now if only a man will come out of nowhere and sweep you off your feet,” there’s a glint in her eyes that makes me wary.
She doesn’t lead me into the living room, where I thought we’d devolve into a snack-fest of junk and deliciousness. It’s how this usually goes. We gossip. We eat something.
Kendrick always smiles indulgently at Eliza. The way he looks at her is downright salacious. I love it for her, but I don’t necessarily love it in my face.
Normally he slinks away somewhere, and we have our best friend time. I’ve been looking forward to tonight.
The moment we step into the dining room, I freeze.
It’s not because dinner is set up, ready to be eaten, without a single chip or bag of candy in view. No, what has me impersonating a statue is finding Ford Conners sitting at the table. He’s pulled his hat off and I’m sure it’s sitting on his knee, pretty as you please.
He runs his fingers through his dark hair, which has gotten longer than he usually lets it grow, before he looks up at me. His whiskey-colored eyes flash with something, but then it’s gone and what I don’t see is recognition.
My stomach revolts and I have to swallow hard and force my feet to move toward the table.
I hardly look at it before looking at my friend and giving her a mighty tug toward the kitchen.
“Was there anything I can help you with in the kitchen?” Before she can answer, I’m on the move and add, “Let’s go check and make sure. ”
“Right,” she says with the grace of a man lost in the desert who see his first oasis mirage, “of course.”
I roll my eyes and pull her into the kitchen which is pretty much all cleaned up. There is nothing that needs to be taken out to the table. Covering my strange exit is a problem for later.
I hiss, “What are you doing?”
Eliza blinks at me a few times with confusion written all over her face.
“I invited you to dinner, Arden,” she says the words slowly like I’m the one being weird about this.
Am I? I don’t even know at this point. “I also invited Ford to dinner. He runs Sagebrush, you know, next door. Well,” she sighs, “when everything was going down with Cody, Kendrick might have accused him of having something to do with it.”
My mouth drops open and my brain goes a little haywire. I snap my mouth closed and whisper, “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” she nods, her face grave. “When I found out about it, I couldn’t let it go.
I went right over to Sagebrush and wanted to mend fences, metaphorical ones this time.
” She giggles slightly, but I can’t join her as horror climbs up my spine.
“Apparently, the families used to be close, but something happened and things fell apart. I don’t even know, and it was probably silly, and it definitely doesn’t matter now,” she waves her hand dismissively with her words.
“Where are Harold and Cliff?” I ask only because I’m having issues processing everything she just told me.
I think I did hear whispers about a falling out and how sad it was. It’s fake pity people love to get out there because it makes them look good, not because they really feel it. Which is why I don’t really listen to it.
I’ve seen how the whispers in town can mold people.
Look at Kendrick, he left years ago because people judged him and chose for him the kind of person he was. From what I’ve seen of him, with the way he treats Eliza, those rumors were wildly overblown.
Those same whispers tried to chase around my best friend when the two of them got together.
And just look at her. She’s luminous.
We should all be so lucky.
An ache starts in my chest and spreads. It’s the same feeling I always get when I think about Ford. The same man who is in the next room sitting at a table where I should be sitting right now. Instead, I’m having a hush-hush conversation with Eliza.
Perfect.
Great first impression.
“They’re having a poker night,” she points in the direction of the bunk house.
“I tried to get them to come, but they said it sounded like a dinner party for youngsters or something. Youngin’s?
” She shrugs. “You know how they are. Kendrick had to get them to promise that there wouldn’t be any whiskey drinking.
Harold is still recovering, though you would never know it from the way he tries to carry on. ”
That sounds about right. Harold, Kendrick’s father, is rough around the edges and doesn’t have time for nonsense. Cliff, an old friend and the man who manages their ranch, is much the same.
I’m enthralled by her for a moment. The affection, the care, is so raw and pure in her voice. It’s special.
“You love Harold,” I don’t mean to say it, really. It just kind of slips out.
Eliza blushes, “Of course. It’s been really hard, you know? My parents don’t support me and the choice I made, even though my choice was happiness and the future I’ve always wanted. Harold has become like a father to me.”
“Your parents will come around,” I assure her, unsure if those are even the right words, or the right thing for anyone involved.
“Maybe,” she admits. “I’ve figured out that if they do, it’ll have to be on their terms. I’m not going to change my mind; if they do then they will have to show up. We’ll see how long it takes and what happens between now and then.”
“You’ve really gotten wise with this whole falling in love thing,” I tease her and we share a smile, one born of years of sisterhood.
“No, I’m just not willing to give up my happiness. Not when I have this,” the way she emphasizes the word is everything. “We’re getting married, we’re going to build a life.”
Tears fill my eyes and I have to swallow hard to get past the lump in my throat. “You tell me when and where and I’ll be there for you. I’ll happily stand by your side and cheer you on. Always.”
“Duh,” she sasses, but there are tears glistening in her eyes too.
And now we’ve gotten off track. I scrunch up my face and realize I can’t say anything to her about Ford. It’s not like she knew about the letters and is trying to set me up.
“So,” my voice drops even softer, just in case, “be honest, is this some sort of set-up? Are you auditioning for the town matchmaker? Giving Mrs. Riley a run for her money?”
Eliza bites her lip and the blush on her face goes crimson. I gasp and point at her accusingly but don’t say anything. She bats my hand away and shakes her head.
“It’s not like that, not entirely. I just thought,” she stomps her foot slightly and I almost burst out laughing, “maybe you could be my neighbor if the stars aligned just right.”
Yeah, I’m not touching that one. I look at her warily, my voice stern, “Don’t test out your Mrs. Riley powers on me, okay?”
“Fine,” she holds out the word and pouts before hugging me fiercely and dragging me back into the dining room. She chirps, “All clear in the kitchen.”
I hold in my groan. Barely. I’m unceremoniously plopped down across from Ford, and I manage not to shoot Eliza a glare. How? I’ll never know. Put it under sheer will.
What I don’t do is look at Ford. I glance at Kendrick who is watching Eliza closely, like she’s prey and he just can’t wait to catch her. Right.
Well, awkward.
Feeling Ford’s gaze, I can’t help myself. I look up and find him looking right at me. There’s something curious in the way he’s looking at me. I’m not sure if I like it.
“Ford,” Kendrick’s voice cuts through and we both look his way, “this is Arden. I’m not sure whether you know each other or not.”
I force a smile on my face that feels a little too much like a mask for my liking. But what’s a girl to do? Any minute I could blurt out that I’m the one who has been writing him letters for a year. I’m not sure I trust myself at the moment; and the thought has me squirming slightly in my chair.
“I’m sure we’ve seen each other around,” Ford’s low drawl has every hair on my body standing on end in the most distracting way, “but it’s nice to officially meet you, Arden.”
“You too,” the words come out much squeaker than I would like, and I completely ignore the way my hand trembles slightly as I reach for my water cup.
This is going to be a long night. I just hope I can hold it together.
Eliza starts passing around dishes and I mindlessly put food on my plate. I engage in the conversation where I can, but it’s distracting feeling Ford’s eyes on me more often than I would like.