Chapter Fourteen #2
Hope smiled warmly, immediately feeling drawn to Clara. They just stared at each other for a second before Hope said, “I do hope we can be good friends.”
Clara studied her for a moment before responding. “I’m sorry for the heartache my family caused you, Hope. I told Ethan he should still marry you.” She paused. “But I feel that his decision not to may have been best for all involved.”
Hope wasn’t sure what Clara meant by this, which Clara seemed to perceive immediately.
“I think you’re a good fit for Jackson,” the young woman clarified.
“We hardly know each other,” Hope said shyly, surprised by Clara’s bold statement.
She was not like her brother at all. Ethan seemed oblivious to the immediate feelings of others around him, like a young bull crashing around a corral, but Clara was different.
Perceptive. Hope wondered if it was due to her years of being sickly, that she had little to do for herself and so spent what energy she had investing in those who came to visit her.
“Well, I can tell you a story or two about Jackson, if that’ll help,” Clara said with a giggle.
“I thought he was the most handsome boy I ever saw when I was little. Do you know that all the girls at school were after him? Sure, Ethan did all the charming and teasing, but Jackson was the one they all wanted to marry. As the years ticked by, though, they all gave up and settled down with others.”
Hope had seen it for herself at the boardinghouse in Virginia City. All the ladies had practically swooned as soon as Jackson had walked in.
“Jackson is not the kind to notice when a woman fancies him,” Clara continued, sadness creeping into her eyes. Hope wondered if Clara had harbored feelings of her own that Jackson had never reciprocated or, apparently, even realized existed. “And he’s not the kind to say anything even if he does.”
Hope chuckled at this. “Jackson is rather reserved.”
“Well, he’s had to be to make room for my loud brother,” Clara joked. The laughter that brought on soon began to make her cough.
Hope helped her drink some tea, after which and Clara breathed a little easier.
“With Jackson, you have to observe him more than listen to him. He’s never going to tell you about himself, so you have to use your eyes.”
Hope thought of Jackson stroking Kitten and Black Cat in the barn.
Though he had an odd resistance to naming any of the animals on the farm, he seemed deeply attached to each of them, and that endeared him to her.
She had to admit that she found his reserved nature as intriguing as it could be frustrating.
“I feel like he’s scared of me,” Hope said quietly. “He runs for the hills each time I enter a room.”
“Of course he’s scared,” Clara said with a throaty laugh. “You’re so beautiful, Hope, though I suspect you don’t even know that. I’m sure he stubs his toe or spills his coffee whenever you’re around.”
Hope thought back and realized he in fact had, although she had not noticed the pattern before. She’d always been so self-conscious of her own movements around him that she hadn’t given him more than a glance…unless he’d had his shirt off. Her cheeks colored at the memory.
“Let me tell you about Jackson,” Clara offered, a smile crossing her lips.
“I was only ten when I saw him climb up a tall tree to rescue a baby hawk that had gotten tangled in the branches on a windy day. Ethan stood at the bottom of the tree shouting orders, but Jackson was the one who risked his neck. He tucked that baby hawk carefully into his shirt and climbed down.”
“What happened to the hawk?” Hope asked curiously.
“Jackson set its wing and caught baby mice to feed it. He called him Feathers,” Clara said with a smile.
“Everywhere Jackson went, Feathers would follow. He brought Feathers over to visit me when I was sick one day… and one of Pa’s farm dogs caught him,” Clara said sadly.
“Jackson blamed himself for weeks. He didn’t want to rescue anything after that. ”
“How awful,” Hope said sadly.
“But then he found a field mouse in the barn that Black Cat had mauled,” Clara continued.
“Jackson called her Mrs. Bonnet because she lived in one of his ma’s old bonnets.
Jackson would walk around with Mrs. Bonnet tucked into his pocket.
Our schoolteacher nearly had a heart attack when Mrs. Bonnet made a run for it across the school room. ”
“Don’t tell me-” Hope had a sinking feeling she could see where the story was heading.
“Our teacher ran away screaming and slammed the door behind her,” Clara said with a grim nod. “Mrs. Bonnet didn’t survive.”
“Oh, Clara, these stories are awful,” Hope complained.
Clara nodded, a weak smile forming on her lips. “But it does tell you a little more about your husband.”
“Am I the mouse that needed rescuing?” Hope asked with a raised eyebrow. “Does that mean I’m going to get slammed in a door, or murdered by a dog?”
Clara laughed, her hand pressing to her chest as the laugh turned to a wracking cough.
“No.” Clara shook her head. “You’re no fragile mouse or broken hawk. But it does show you why Jackson is scared to get close to you, I hope.”
Hope considered this in silence. There had to be more to Jackson’s resistance than tragic endings for several childhood pets, but it did teach her something about his character.
Jackson was brave and always tried to do what was right, even if it meant putting himself in danger.
But she knew there was still something she was missing.
“Could you fetch me some water?” Clara asked, her throat raspy from all the talking.
Hope stood up and hurried to the kitchen. As she approached, she heard the hum of low voices: Ethan and Jackson.
“David’s fence was cut just last week,” Ethan was saying.
“That’s not far from your ranch,” Jackson observed, an edge to his voice.
“And Simon said someone lit his bales on fire, though of course it looked like an accident,” Ethan continued.
“Some of my own cattle escaped just last week,” Jackson explained. “I couldn’t tell if they’d been let out on purpose, or if it was just an accident.”
“I don’t like it, Jackson,” Ethan said, “not one bit. We need to ready ourselves.”
“We need proof first,” Jackson replied. “We’ve got to do things by the book.”
“They don’t!” Ethan protested.
“We’re not them,” Jackson reminded him.
Hope leaned against the wall, an uneasiness growing inside of her.
She pressed her hand to her stomach to try to ease the burn of worry that brewed there.
If she was going to be Jackson’s wife, she didn’t want to be the little field mouse that lived protected in his pocket until he couldn’t do so anymore.
Hope wanted to know what was going on so that she could protect herself.
That was all that had saved her in the past, and she wasn’t about to change her ways now.