Chapter Twenty-Six
The air between them was taut with unspoken words. Angela stood frozen, her heart thundering as she waited for James to answer her question.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t. His jaw worked, his eyes flickering with emotions she couldn’t quite name—pain, hesitation, and something deeper, more vulnerable.
She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to fill the silence with her own nervous chatter. Instead, she waited, watching as James took a slow, deliberate breath.
Finally, he spoke.
“I was married once,” he said, his voice low and rough.
Angela blinked, her chest tightening. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected, and the weight of his words hung heavy in the air between them.
“Clara was my childhood sweetheart,” he continued, his eyes distant, as if staring into a world long past. “She was everything to me—kind, patient, stronger than she ever gave herself credit for. We built a life together, a good life. I thought… I thought we had forever.”
His voice faltered, and Angela felt a pang of sorrow in her chest. She stayed quiet, sensing this was a story he rarely, if ever, shared.
“But forever isn’t guaranteed,” James said, his words deliberate, each one carrying the weight of what he felt. “An epidemic swept through our town. It started slowly at first. One or two folks fell ill. Nobody thought much of it—just a fever, we figured. Something that would pass with rest.”
Angela watched as his expression darkened, the shadows on his face deepening.
“But it didn’t pass,” James continued, his voice hollow.
“It spread. Fast. One day, the Baker boy came down with it, and the next, half the town was coughing up blood, shaking with fever so high they couldn’t tell you their own name.
The air smelled like sickness, and it didn’t take long before folks started dropping. ”
Angela’s breath caught, her fingers curling into her skirts as she imagined the horror he described.
“Clara tried to help,” James said, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“She was always the first to step up, no matter how bad things got. She took food to the families who couldn’t leave their homes, sat by the bedsides of the dying, wiped their brows, prayed with them…
” His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard.
Angela reached out, her hand lightly brushing his arm.
He didn’t acknowledge the gesture, his focus locked on the fire.
“It wasn’t long before she caught it, too,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“At first, she said it was nothing—feeling a little tired, a cough. But by the second day, she couldn’t get out of bed.
Her skin burned like it was on fire, and her breathing… ”
He paused, his jaw working as if he were trying to force the words out.
Angela’s heart ached as she imagined it—the helplessness, the fear.
“She’d gasp for air,” James said, his voice tightening. “Every breath sounded like it was tearing her apart. And no matter what I did—wet cloths, teas, prayers—it wasn’t enough. She kept getting worse. Her face was pale, her lips cracked. By the end…”
His voice broke, and he shook his head.
“By the end, she couldn’t even open her eyes.”
He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides as he stared off into the distance.
“I prayed. Every night,” he continued, looking at Angela again. “Every second of every minute of every hour, I begged God to save her. I thought if I prayed hard enough, if I had enough faith, He’d hear me.”
Angela’s throat tightened as she listened, her own memories of desperate prayers surfacing unbidden.
“But He didn’t,” James said bitterly. “She died. And I—”
He stopped, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and straightened, but Angela could see the rawness in his eyes.
“I lost her. And I lost the man I was. Sold the farm, left everything behind. I couldn’t stand to be in that house, to see the life we’d built without her there. So I left. Came out here. Figured if I kept moving, I wouldn’t have to feel anything.”
The silence that followed his words was deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of the prairie grass in the breeze. Angela’s heart was in her throat, each beat a painful reminder of how deeply his story resonated with her own.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” James said, his voice quieter now. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped praying. Stopped believing God was listening. Maybe I thought if I stayed quiet, He’d leave me alone. Let me do the same.”
Angela’s hands trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself, her mind reeling from the vulnerability in his confession.
“But then,” James said, his gaze lifting to meet hers, “you came along.”
Angela’s breath hitched as his words hung in the air.
“You’ve stirred something in me I thought was long gone,” he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “The way you hold onto your faith, even after everything you’ve been through.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t ignore the way his eyes searched hers with an intensity that left her breathless.
“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” James said, stepping closer. “Never thought I’d want to. But here I am. And it scares the heck out of me.”
Angela’s heart pounded, her thoughts spinning. She wanted to say something, to tell him how much his words meant, but the depth of her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
James stepped closer again, his movements slow, deliberate. The space between them vanished, and Angela felt the heat of him, the strength of his presence like a grounding force.
“Angela,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “You’ve changed something in me. Made me see that maybe I don’t have to carry all of this alone.”
Her breath caught as he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing against her cheek with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine.
“You make me want to believe,” he said quietly.
And then, he leaned in.
The world seemed to hold its breath as his lips met hers, gentle at first, testing, as if giving her the chance to pull away. But Angela didn’t.
Instead, she let herself lean into him, her hands resting lightly against his chest as his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, yet filled with a raw intensity that made her knees weak.
His hand moved to cradle the back of her head, his touch steadying her as emotions she’d kept buried for so long surged to the surface.
The scent of him—leather, woodsmoke, and the faint musk of the trail—filled her senses, grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together.
Angela opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. The vulnerability she saw there mirrored her own, and for a moment, the weight of everything they’d shared settled over her.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
James nodded, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek, but before he could say anything, someone cleared their throat, startling them both.
Angela turned quickly to see Rosie standing a short distance away, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.
“Toby is looking for you, James,” Rosie said, her tone light but laced with a hint of mischief.
James straightened, his usual guarded expression slipping back into place. “I’ll go see what he wants,” he said, his voice gruff.
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting Angela’s again, as if he wanted to say more. But instead, he gave a small nod and walked away, his boots crunching against the dirt.
Angela stood frozen, her heart still pounding, until Rosie stepped closer, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
“Well, well,” Rosie said, her eyebrow arching. “What was all that about?”
Angela flushed, brushing at her skirts nervously. “Nothing,” she said quickly, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Rosie said, her grin widening. “You’ve got a look about you, Angela Hayes. Like someone who just got swept off her feet.”
Angela sighed, shaking her head as she sank onto a nearby log. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Rosie,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I really don’t.”
Rosie sat beside her, her teasing expression softening into one of concern.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.
Angela hesitated, then took a deep breath.
“I lost my family,” she began, her voice trembling.
“There was a fire, and I was the only one who made it out. My parents, my little brother… they didn’t.
And ever since that night, I’ve carried this…
this guilt. Like I shouldn’t have survived when they didn’t. ”
Rosie’s face softened, her eyes filling with quiet understanding.
“I’ve spent years trying not to let myself feel too much,” Angela continued, her voice breaking slightly. “Because if I don’t let myself care, I can’t get hurt again. I can’t lose anyone else.”
Rosie was quiet for a moment, her hand resting lightly on Angela’s arm. Then she sighed, looking out at the horizon as the last rays of the sun dipped below the prairie.
“I know how you feel,” Rosie said softly.
Angela blinked, turning to her in surprise. “You do?”
Rosie nodded, her gaze distant. “I lost my husband,” she said quietly.
“Not to illness or an accident. To choices. Bad ones. Things were good when we were younger, but we lost all of our children. Three in total, and things turned bad. My husband couldn’t find a way to move past his grief, his anger.
Instead, he turned to gambling, to drinking.
Spent more nights in the saloon than he did at home.
I tried to save him—tried to make him see what he was throwing away—but in the end, he didn’t want to be saved. ”
Angela’s heart ached as she listened, her chest tightening.
“When he left, I felt like my whole world had fallen apart,” Rosie continued. “I’d built my life around him, and when he was gone, I didn’t know who I was anymore. But eventually, I realized that his choices weren’t mine. And I couldn’t keep punishing myself for surviving when he’d given up.”
Angela swallowed hard, her hands trembling in her lap. “How did you move on?” she asked quietly.
Rosie smiled faintly, her eyes warm with a mixture of sadness and strength. “I decided I wasn’t going to let fear rule my life,” she said. “I wasn’t going to close myself off because of what I’d lost. Life’s too short for that.”
She turned to Angela, her gaze steady. “You’ve got a good heart. I can see it. And that heart’s worth something, even if it’s been bruised and battered.”
Angela shook her head, her voice trembling. “But what if I get hurt again?”
Rosie’s smile softened, and she reached out to take Angela’s hand. “You will,” she said simply. “That’s just life. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
Angela let the words sink in, her heart aching and hopeful all at once.
“You know,” Rosie continued, her voice low, “even with everything I went through, with all the pain and heartbreak, I wouldn’t trade the love I had for anything.”
Angela’s brow furrowed, and she looked at Rosie with surprise. “Even though it hurt so much?” she asked hesitantly.
Rosie nodded, a faint, wistful smile touching her lips. Then she reached for Angela’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“It’s okay to be scared,” she said gently. “But don’t let that fear keep you from living. You’ve got more strength than you know.”
Angela nodded slowly, her throat tight as she tried to process Rosie’s words. She didn’t know if she was ready to open her heart again, to let herself feel everything she’d buried for so long. But for the first time, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.