Chapter 9
The late-morning sun beat down on the McKenna ranch, the air thick with the scent of freshly laundered clothing as Carrie pinned the last of Josh’s work shirts to the line.
Her hands moved with practiced ease, though her mind churned under the constant weight of her secrets.
They had been growing louder by the day, it seemed, echoing inside her skull until she could barely think straight.
There was hardly a moment when she was not sick to her stomach with regret and guilt, torn between the impossibility of it all.
The prairie breeze tugged at her jet-black curls.
She brushed them back as her eyes scanned the horizon out of pure habit.
Marcus Reed was out there, somewhere, tracking her trail.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine, pebbling the skin on her arms despite the blistering summer heat.
What was she still doing here? Staying would only make it easier for him to find her and bring misery to those around her.
“Catherine!” Irene called from the porch. “Pastor Cartwright’s here. Come join us for some coffee.”
Carrie’s stomach tightened, but she forced a smile at the older woman as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Coming, ma’am,” she called, smoothing her dress as she headed inside.
The kitchen was a haven of welcoming scents, the aroma of Irene’s ginger cookies mingling with fresh coffee.
Pastor William Cartwright sat at the table, his kind eyes crinkling as he nodded in greeting.
Nearby, Josh leaned against the counter, his blond hair catching the light, his topaz eyes quiet but watchful.
“Miss Morgan,” William said, rising slightly as she approached the table. “It’s good to see you settling in. How is ranch life treating you?”
Carrie slid into a chair, her hands folding tightly in her lap.
“It’s different, but not unenjoyable,” she said, her voice steady despite the onslaught of nerves brewing in her stomach like a cloud of wasps circling their nest. She swallowed, her mouth dry.
“But Irene and Josh have been incredibly kind. Thanks to their patience, I’m learning day by day. ”
Irene passed her a cup of coffee, her usually shrewd eyes holding a softness in them as she considered the young woman. “She’s a quick study, William. She’s already handling breakfast on her own and, as Josh likes to tell it, mending fences like she was born to do it.”
Josh’s lips quirked upward, a spark of undeniable pride in his expression. “She is tougher than she looks,” he said, taking a few steps toward the table to grab a cookie. “Even Thunder’s starting to respect her.”
Carrie’s cheeks warmed. She quickly sipped her coffee to hide her flush. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” she said once her cheeks had cooled. “I keep my distance from that horse,” she added, drawing a chuckle from the table.
William leaned forward, his eyes bright as he studied her for a moment.
“I’ve been meaning to check in and see how you’re all holding up after Thomas’s passing.
And, Catherine, I wanted to see how you’re faring.
I imagine it cannot be easy to come so far to a new place and be met with such sad circumstances. ”
The young woman wet her lips, letting the words form in her head before speaking them.
“I am very grateful to the McKennas and for everything they have done for me so far,” she said, the raw truth aching in her chest. “They have given me a home when I had nowhere to turn.” Her voice wavered, and she attempted to mask it with a smile, but it was not enough to fool the pastor, who looked at her with such intensity that Carrie knew he could see all the cracks in her facade.
And yet, he did not pry. Instead, the conversation turned to ranch matters, then to the church.
William’s brow furrowed. “I have been wrestling with some new banking regulations,” he admitted, stirring his coffee.
“The church’s finances are modest, but these rules—something about compliance and record-keeping—are beyond me.
Try as I might, I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it all. ”
Without thinking, Carrie leaned forward, a strange spark in her eyes as her mind slipped into the familiar grooves of her old life, when she had been good at what she did and had thrived behind a desk, reviewing ledgers and crunching numbers.
“It’s likely the new federal banking laws from last year,” she said, her voice crisp and confident.
She continued, too caught up in the moment to stop or notice the eyebrows raised around the room.
“They require stricter documentation for charitable organizations, including churches, to prevent fraud. You would need to maintain detailed ledgers documenting dates, sources, and expenditures. Then you would need to file quarterly reports with your state.” She hardly took a breath, the words flowing freely as if a dam had been broken.
“If you are struggling, you could consolidate your accounts to simplify tracking, and I would recommend a double-entry system to ensure accuracy.”
She had spent three years managing Emmett Thorne and Jonathan Webb’s complex financial operations, from organizing ledgers to filing reports to navigating regulations.
It had been her world, and she had been immersed in it until that way of thinking had become second nature.
Carried leaned back in her seat, suddenly aware of the heavy silence and the stunned faces around her.
William’s eyebrows had risen halfway to his hairline, Irene’s cup was suspended midair, and Josh’s gaze was sharp, curiosity and something she could not name flicking in his eyes.
Carrie’s blood turned cold, her heart slamming against her ribs.
She’d exposed herself, revealing knowledge no orphaned seamstress should possess.
“I… I mean,” she stammered, forcing a calm expression.
“One of the orphanage’s benefactors was a banker.
He visited occasionally and talked about regulations when he checked our books.
I just… picked up a few things,” she lied, unable to look the pastor in the eye.
William tilted his head, his tone indecipherable. “That’s remarkable, Catherine. Most folks raised in an orphanage wouldn’t know such details. That banker must have been quite the teacher.”
She forced a laugh, her hands trembling around her cup despite her best efforts to steady them.
“He was… thorough,” she said, her voice thin.
“He liked to explain things, and I liked to listen.” Her mouth was impossibly dry now, but she could not bring herself to lift her cup from the table for fear of dropping it. Her palms were slick with sweat.
Irene’s eyes narrowed slightly, and yet she smiled. “Well, that’s a blessing, isn’t it? Sounds like you could help William sort out his books.”
“Indeed,” William said, his tone still impossible to read. Carrie practically squirmed in her seat. “Your knowledge will be nothing short of a godsend to the church, maybe even to others in town struggling with these new rules. Would you consider lending a hand?”
Carrie’s throat tightened as panic clawed at her. “I… I’d need to think about it,” she said, her smile strained. “I’m still settling in.”
“Of course,” William said, but his gaze lingered, as if cataloging her hesitation.
Josh’s gaze was heavier, studying her with a scrutiny that made her skin prickle.
She could almost see him mentally piecing together all her inconsistencies, from her educated speech to her ease with complex ideas, and now… this.
“Catherine’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Josh finally spoke up, his voice casual, but his eyes still just as sharp. “I reckon Thomas knew it when he wrote to her.”
Her heart twisted at the sound of Thomas’s name, guilt and fear tightening around the frantic organ like a critter caught in brambles, trying to set itself free. “He was kind to think so,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to her coffee, where she could barely stand the sight of her murky reflection.
Carrie escaped to her room that night, her nerves frayed.
She sat by the window, mending one of Josh’s work shirts, the needle a tiny anchor against her spiraling thoughts.
Her slip-up had been reckless, a damning crack in the facade of Catherine Morgan that could send everything crashing down around her.
If they started asking questions—suspecting her—her lies would not hold, bringing Reed’s wrath to their doorstep.
Moonlight spilled across the yard. Movement caught her eye, and she leaned forward to peer out the window.
Josh stood by a small grave marker, his hat in his hands, his broad shoulders bowed with grief.
Mary’s grave, she realized. The raw pain in his posture mirrored her own hidden wounds, and her heart ached for him.
He was carrying his own secrets and losses, yet he had opened his home to her and protected her without question.
As if sensing her gaze, Josh looked up, his eyes meeting hers across the distance.
Moonlight softened his features, and something seemed to pass between them.
She lifted her hand to her heart, accepting the silent acknowledgment of their shared loneliness and the burdens too heavy to voice.
Her heart cracked with thunder, sparking with realization.
She was falling for Josh McKenna, and it was becoming impossible to ignore the magnetic pull that kept drawing her closer and closer.