Chapter Ten
Whatever sentiment had been triggered between them by the high emotions of their wedding day had long since fizzled out.
After their wedding lunch, Jackson had helped her move from the shed into the house.
Hope had initially been a little nervous, but when Jackson had pointedly packed her things into a separate bedroom, she had relaxed.
He had then disappeared to tend to a sick sheep, and she’d hardly seen him since.
It had been four days since the wedding, and Hope was beginning to believe he was deliberately avoiding her.
Each day was a new level of ridiculous. On Monday, by the time Hope had reached the breakfast table, Jackson was halfway out the door, his coffee cup still half-full.
On Tuesday, Hope got up earlier so that she could see him, but Margaret explained that Jackson had decided to skip breakfast so that he could start on the chickens.
On Wednesday, Hope had hurried out of the house just as the sun was rising so that she could tend to the chickens before Jackson.
By the time she returned to the kitchen with a basket of eggs, Jackson was nowhere in sight.
“You’ve got feathers in your hair, dear,” Margaret commented. “And Jackson left for town this morning to collect supplies.”
Hope collapsed into her chair and rested her chin on her palm.
“Oh, there, there,” Margaret teased, pouring her some coffee. “When I was first married to Jackson’s father, George, the man was so terrified of me he slept in the barn for the first week!”
Hope spilt her coffee, she laughed so hard, then had to apologize profusely for her lack of manners.
“Calm down, dear.” Margaret winked at her. “We’re family now. And I might just say I’m glad to have you. It gets lonely out on a big old ranch like this, and it’s about time Jackson filled the house up a little.”
Hope thought of the Hale ranch house and how it was one of the finest Hope had ever seen.
Compared to her family’s rural cabin, the large, well-built timber home had a wraparound porch and tall windows overlooking the beautiful valley.
Chickens and kittens snuck through the spring flowers blossoming all around the front, and a handmade wooden bench sat on the porch.
Everything around spoke volumes of a welcoming home that had been filled with love.
“Jackson said you and George built this farmhouse together,” Hope said, thinking it was a good time to ask about it.
“We sure did.” Margaret winked. “If you find yourself wondering how all the planks are so straight, well, you have me to thank for that.”
“Really?” Hope marveled. “I love this house. Don’t you miss it?”
“My memories here were with George.” Margaret waved a hand. “Once he died, I just couldn’t bring myself to sleep here anymore. I much prefer the cottage. It’s closer to the creek. The rush of the water provides some company when I can’t sleep.”
Hope reached over and squeezed Margaret’s hand.
It was strange that she had only known Margaret for a few days, yet she felt so close to her.
On the other hand, despite liking him initially, it felt as though the longer she knew Jackson, the more distant he became.
She knew he had only promised a marriage of convenience, but were they to completely ignore each other ‘till death did them part?’ Hope shuddered at the thought.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Margaret?”
The older woman nodded and smiled. Hope thought Margaret already knew what she was going to ask.
“Did you and George know each other before you were married?”
Margaret shook her head. “It was an agreement between our parents. I thought George was a fool, and he thought I was too pretty for him.”
“But when you told us about your wedding day, it sounded so happy,” Hope recalled.
Margaret chuckled. “That’s just what I tell Jackson. To tell you the truth, I was terrified. I shook more than you did, and my flowers were half dead by the time I said ‘I do’.”
Hope giggled at this, and she shook her head slowly. “That makes me feel better, Margaret. Maybe you should tell Jackson the truth.”
“Jackson is like his Pa in so many ways,” Margaret said, shuffling the breakfast dishes together. “And that’s why I’m confident he’ll learn to be a good husband on his own. He doesn’t need his Ma interfering, that’s for sure. Not when he has you.”
Hope blushed at this and took the dishes from Margaret, moving to the wash basin. She wasn’t sure how she could help Jackson feel more at ease around her, but at least she felt as though someone understood her and the awkwardness of being newly married.
“But how did you do it?” she suddenly asked Margaret. “How did you win George over?”
“It was easy once I got the right idea,” Margaret said with a laugh. “Food. I just so happened to be an excellent cook. Once I lured George into the house with my roasts, cakes, and pies, well, there was no sleeping in the barn anymore.”
Hope smiled, though her shoulders sagged slightly. She did not think Jackson would be won over by something that simple. He seemed so quiet and reserved that she wasn’t sure she would ever figure out what he truly liked.
Though it frustrated her, it also had a strange way of drawing her to him.
She’d find herself following him around the ranch just so she could watch him work.
She had been collecting herbs from the garden to dry when Jackson had ridden in on a beautiful black horse.
Hope blushed at the memory of how she had stood rooted to the spot, her mouth open as she stared at him on the horse until Jackson had bellowed at her to ‘get out of the way before I run you over!’
Hope had been so mortified she had run into the outside washroom and hidden there until she was sure Jackson had ridden away. She just wanted him to talk to her so desperately and tell her about anything, even just his day, but she didn’t know how to get him to open up.
“Roast beef,” Margaret said with a smile. “With roast potatoes, and fresh vegetables from the garden outside.”
Hope blinked at her, before realizing what Margaret was giving her. Her smile widened as she darted towards the cellar in search of ingredients for Jackson’s favorite meal.
“And after?” she called to Margaret. “Does he like sweet things?”
“Do you know how to make a good apple pie?” Margaret asked.
Hope grinned at her. “I sure do. My Ma taught me.”
“Well, perhaps Jackson will tell you why he loves apple pie so much,” Margaret said with a smile. “Anyway, I’ll wrap up some breakfast you can take it to Jackson when he gets back.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Hope said, feeling she had at least one friend in a whole new, wide world.
“No, my dear, thank you,” Margaret said, resting a hand on Hope’s shoulder.
“I haven’t done anything yet,” Hope said with a frown.
Margaret said nothing more. She only smiled and started humming while going about her chores in the kitchen.
Hope drifted outside, and began with a heap of laundry that needed washing.
Then she tended to the garden, pulling any weeds she saw, and planting a row of strawberry seeds in one bed.
She had just finished milking her final cow and was wondering what to do next when she heard the distant thunder of hooves and knew Jackson was on his way back.
She hurried inside, trying not to spill the buckets of milk. Minutes later, she returned carrying the plate Margaret had set aside for her son, but Jackson was nowhere in sight. Hope sighed deeply, feeling foolish for even trying.
What did she care if he wanted nothing to do with her? Jackson had given her a home, work, and Margaret, so why did she want more from him? Blowing her loose curls out of her face, she walked towards the barn, determined to hand over his food as quickly as she could.
The loose straw on the barn floor muffled her steps, and she heard gentle whispering coming from behind one of the hay bales. Frowning in confusion, she approached slowly.
“There you are,” she heard Jackson whispering. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I’ve missed you.”
Hope pursed her lips and felt an indignant rush of blood to her cheeks as she marched towards Jackson.
“Aren’t you just so beautiful,” Jackson continued, “and so soft.”
Soft! Hope was starting to realize why Jackson spent so much time in the barn.
It would crush his mother to know exactly what he was up to, but Hope would need proof before she could do that to the poor woman.
Hope was determined to drop his food on the floor and march away, but she couldn’t leave without seeing this for herself.
She stepped forward, inching closer to Jackson whispering away.
“I think I have you to thank that there are no rats,” Jackson was saying.
Rats? Hope’s mind reeled. That’s not what she’d expected him to say.
She poked her head around a hay bale and saw Jackson seated in the hay with two cats curled up in his lap, both purring contentedly.
Jackson ran a rough hand over the length of a silky black cat, the cat’s whiskers twitching with delight.
All her anger drained away as she stood there and stared at him.
Once again, Jackson had surprised her. She was very curious to find out more about these two cats she hadn’t yet seen in her short time on the ranch.
“They’re quite shy,” Jackson said as she turned to leave. “But if you bring them some warm milk or cream, they’ll be friendly.”
Hope hesitated, closing her eyes and brushing hair out of her face before stepping into view.
“I didn’t mean to spy,” she murmured, suddenly shy around him.
“I didn’t hear you, but Kitten did,” he said, stroking a patchy, multi-colored cat.
“What is the black cat’s name?” she asked, crouching down and twirling a piece of straw in the air over their heads.
The black cat pawed at it lazily, rolling onto its back, but not leaving Jackson’s lap.
“Black Cat,” Jackson answered.
Hope frowned at him. “Kitten and Black Cat? Those aren’t really names.”