Chapter 10
The morning sun climbed over the prairie, casting long shadows across the McKenna ranch as Josh tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle, his thoughts as tangled as clothes caught in barbed wire.
Catherine stood nearby, adjusting her bonnet, her black curls catching the light in a way that made it a little harder for the rancher to breathe.
Josh had asked her at breakfast if she was keen to spend the day with him, seeing how he and the hands worked the cattle herd.
He had half expected her to turn him down, had even braced himself for the sting of rejection, but to his surprise, she had answered with a quick nod.
Remembering the spark in her hazel eyes stirred something in him, even now, and he realized it was a hope he had not dared name since Mary’s death.
Hope for tomorrow. Hope for more.
Now, as they prepared to ride out together, he could not shake the feeling that today held the promise of something shifting between them, or maybe he was just a dreamer with his head in the clouds, riding high after so many years of feeling buried six feet under.
“Ready?” he asked, swinging into the saddle, his blue eyes meeting hers.
She nodded, mounting her mare with a grace that belied her city roots. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, her tone light yet laced with that ever-present wariness. “Just don’t expect me to rope anything.”
Josh chuckled, nudging his horse forward. “Don’t worry, we’ll start slow. Cattle work is more about patience than flash.”
The prairie unfolded before them, the herd a distant blur of lowing shapes against the rolling hills.
The air carried the scent of dust and grass.
The steady rhythm of hoofbeats and the whisper of wind through tall blades of wheatgrass eased the tension in Josh’s shoulders.
He glanced at Catherine, her posture rigid.
Her eyes scanned the landscape with a vigilance that spoke of something far beyond mere curiosity.
Catherine was hiding something.
Josh’s fingers tightened on his reins as he thought about her interaction with the pastor.
He was certain Catherine had let a true part of herself slip through when she had spoken about banking laws.
He had suspected she was wearing a mask, hiding behind walls, trying to keep herself from getting hurt, even if he could not understand her reasoning.
Still, a thousand questions buzzed in his head, begging to be answered.
These questions were meant to sow doubt in his soul, to make him question the young woman herself, but deep in his heart, he understood that the trust he felt for her was illogical but it had settled deep in his bones, and he knew there would be little to unearth it from where it had buried itself and grown roots.
“Catherine,” he said, breaking the silence.
He waited until she looked over at him, a slight pinch between her brows.
Her mouth was set in a thin line, but she nodded in acknowledgment.
“You have a head for numbers, from what you said to Pastor Cartwright yesterday. Do you think I could ever persuade you to help with the ranch’s books?
” He paused to rub at the back of his neck, slick with perspiration.
“They’ve been a mess since Thomas…” He trailed off, the ache of his friend’s loss still sharp as a knife.
He took a breath and considered Catherine, knowing he wore his vulnerability on every inch of his face.
“I could use the help, if you are willing.”
Surprise flicked across her face. “You would trust me with that?” she asked, her voice pitched with disbelief.
Josh met her gaze, steady and sure. “I trust you,” he said simply, like it was as true as the rising of the sun at dawn. “I know there are things you are not ready to share, and that’s your right. But I want you to feel like this ranch is your home, if you will have it.”
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.
Josh felt them slam into his chest like a physical blow.
Their implication was more than a simple invitation.
They were his way of admitting he wanted her to stay, not just as Thomas intended, not just as a guest, but as part of his life.
Her eyes, those hazel depths flecked with gold, held his for a moment that made the world stop.
His heart raced as everything snapped into perfect clarity, like a lightning strike on a clear day.
He was falling for her.
The thought shook him. How had she slipped past his defenses? How had she carved a path through the grief he once thought would keep his heart locked forever?
Catherine looked away first, her cheeks flushing. Her voice floated across the distance, soft and warm. “I’d like that, Josh. Helping with the books, I mean. I… I want to be useful.”
He grinned, relief and hope tangling in his chest. “Then it’s settled. We’ll start tomorrow unless Ma ropes you into making more peach preserves first.”
Her laugh was bright, a sound that warmed him more than the sun. “I’ll hide the jars so she doesn’t get any ideas,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
They reached the herd shortly thereafter and dismounted.
Josh rolled up his sleeves, ready to work, and Catherine followed close at his heels.
The day passed in a blur of dust and sweat.
Josh showed her how to guide strays, how to read the cattle’s moods, and many other facets of the work, his voice always patient and kind as he answered her questions.
The ranch hands, gruff but respectful men, tipped their hats when they saw her, accepting her presence as if she had always been part of the fold.
By midday, Catherine was flushed and smiling, her bonnet askew. Josh couldn’t keep his eyes off her, painting her portrait in his mind. His heart ached with a longing he hadn’t expected to feel again.
That evening, after a supper of roast beef and Irene’s cornbread, Josh and Catherine settled on the porch swing, their usual spot for quiet conversation.
The prairie stretched dark and endless, crickets chirping beneath a sky pricked with stars.
Irene had retired early, leaving them alone.
Josh could have sworn he saw a knowing glint in his mother’s eye as she bid them good night.
With his foot on the ground, he kept the swing rocking, looking up at the stars as he felt the weight of the moment, the air charged with unspoken words.
“Long day,” he said, his voice low, testing the waters. “You held your own out there.”
Catherine tucked a curl behind her ear, her bandaged hand, still healing from the jar incident, resting in the space between them. “I liked it,” she said, her voice as soft as if she, too, were testing the waters. “It’s… honest work. It makes you forget everything else.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on her profile as moonlight illuminated her features. “You ever miss Boston?” he asked. “You don’t talk much about it or what came before.”
Her breath hitched as her fingers tightened on the swing’s chain. “There’s… not much to tell,” she said, her voice faltering. “The orphanage, the sewing… it wasn’t a life I wanted to keep.”
Josh leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his tone free of accusation. “I ain’t prying to judge, Catherine. I just see you flinch sometimes, like you’re waiting for trouble. It makes me wonder what you’re carrying.”
Her eyes met his, wide and gleaming with fear. The raw vulnerability in those depths stirred something deep in his chest, making him want to wrap his arm around her and pull her close. “I… I can’t,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “Not yet.”
He held her gaze, his heart twisting at her pain. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to push. You don’t have to say anything you aren’t ready to. I just care, that’s all.”
The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Josh made a sudden decision, his heart leading where his head hesitated.
He reached for her hand, his calloused fingers intertwining with hers.
She stiffened but didn’t pull away, her skin warm against his.
He felt a spark, an undeniable connection that steadied his resolve.
“Catherine,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
“I need you to know something. These feelings I have for you are real. I didn’t expect them, not after Mary, not after swearing that I would never…
” He swallowed, his thumb brushing her knuckles.
“Whatever secrets you’re holding, they don’t change how I see you.
You’re important to me, to Ma. And there’s a life here for you on this ranch, if you want it.
” He squeezed her hand. “I just needed you to hear that.”
Her breath caught as her eyes searched his, fear warring with something softer—hope, maybe, or longing, he did not know. “Josh,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You do not know what you are saying. I’m not… I’m not who you think I am.”
“Then tell me who you are,” he said, his tone gentle. “When you are ready, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
She looked down at their joined hands, her fingers tightening. She leaned closer, the space between them shrinking until Josh’s heart skipped a beat. But before she could get too close, she drew back, her eyes glistening. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “For… everything.”
Josh nodded, releasing her hand. He did not want to overstep her boundaries, even though he would have been content to hold her hand all night. “Get some rest,” he said, standing. “We’ve got books to tackle tomorrow.”
Her smile was small but real. She rose, her shawl slipping slightly. “Goodnight, Josh.”
As she disappeared inside, Josh sank back onto the swing, his heart pounding loud enough to drown out the crickets.
He had laid bare his feelings, risking the pain he had sworn to avoid.
Mary’s memory whispered in the back of his mind, but Catherine’s presence was a light he could not ignore.
He had become a moth to a flame. And whatever she was running from, he would face it alongside her, if she would let him.
“Trust me,” he thought, looking up toward her bedroom. “And let me help you as you’ve helped me.”