Chapter Twenty-Two
Hope’s eyes snapped open the following morning, and she rolled over and wriggled around in her bed happily, every part of her tingling with delight. She sighed deeply into her pillow, holding onto the lingering memories of the night before. It had been the best night she had ever experienced.
She and Jackson had danced and feasted until the early hours of the morning, laughing and twirling and staring into each other’s eyes as though no one else existed.
Of course, at first Jackson had been awkward and struggled to find his rhythm, but in the end, she had been the one to beg him to sit down and rest because her feet were about to fall off.
And then there was the kiss. Hope pressed her face into her pillow and squealed with delight as she kicked her legs back and forth before rolling over and staring at the beams above them.
She had never kissed a man before, and doubted she would ever forget kissing Jackson.
He had been so gentle, so caring, and so unassuming that she had felt completely safe in his arms.
Something had changed between them in that moment. They no longer felt like two strangers tied together unexpectedly in a marriage of convenience, but rather a man and woman who had been bound together before God.
“Oh, Jackson,” she whispered to herself, feeling the rush of emotion from the night before anew.
She heard the creak of floorboards downstairs and the clank of a pan and knew that Jackson was awake.
She could not bear another second in bed, so she kicked off the covers and hurried to the washbasin in her room.
She could not dress fast enough, so intense was her longing to see him again and prove to herself that everything the night before had not been a dream.
Hope hurried downstairs and swung into the kitchen, her face alight with excitement.
“Good morning-” She stopped suddenly when she saw Margaret poised by the breakfast table with a cast-iron pan in one hand.
Hope could not hide her disappointment. She had come to love Margaret as a second mother, but she was no Jackson. Margaret’s expression registered a flicker of understanding, and the older woman stifled a smile.
“Good morning, my dear,” Margaret said. “I was hoping to leave before you and Jackson awoke. Some breakfast after all that…dancing,” Margaret said with a knowing smile.
Hope blushed and lowered her gaze to the table. “Goodness, Margaret, thank you for all this.”
There was a thud of footsteps hurrying down the staircase and Jackson appeared in the doorway, his eyes finding Hope’s face. She smiled at him, and he looked from her to his mother, then regained his composure.
“Morning, Ma,” he said, clearing his throat. “Are you joining us for breakfast this morning?”
“No, no,” Margaret replied airily. “I’ll head to church. There’s a meeting about helping those in need in the town.”
“Yes, I remember now,” Jackson said, scratching at his beard.
Hope knew he’d gotten just as little sleep as she had, yet his green eyes were alight with life, and he seemed to struggle to keep a smile off his face. She felt oddly shy in his presence, as though they were meeting for the first time.
“You look mighty pleased about my leaving,” Margaret teased, giving Hope a smile. “Though I can understand. I’ve given Daniel the day off, so he won’t be bothering you either.”
“You’re no bother, Ma,” Jackson addressed her, but his mother bustled out of the kitchen without another word and gave them a wave.
They stood in silence, and since everything had already been prepared, Hope realized she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
“Shall we eat?” Jackson suggested the obvious.
Hope nodded, slipping into a seat and smiling shyly as Jackson sat opposite her.
He reached across the table and held her hand as he said grace.
His touch reminded her of how he had held her the night before, and she felt her mind wander.
How had so much changed between them the night before?
Or had it always been there and she simply hadn’t noticed?
“Did you sleep?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Hardly. And you?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Too much on my mind.”
Hope longed to know what he had been thinking. She wished they could’ve spent the last few hours on the porch watching the sunrise, using every waking minute to be together. She was sure Jackson had felt the same, but they’d both been too shy to suggest staying up together.
“Mine too,” she admitted. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
Jackson nodded. “I should be thanking you.”
Hope swallowed her eggs, trying to think of how to extend their time together before chores divided them.
She had to admit that she had always been intrigued by Jackson, but as their friendship had grown over the last two months, she suddenly found herself feeling so much more than that for him.
She didn’t want to be apart from him any more than she had to be.
“I was thinking,” she said, her mind working rapidly. “I’d like to bake your ma a pie to thank her for all she’s done to help Daniel and myself.”
Jackson nodded. “Well…I could help, perhaps. What kind of pie?”
Hope thought for a second. “Mushrooms,” she said, with a little too much excitement. “Though I’d need to ride out to look for some.”
Jackson’s eyes widened with understanding and he nodded enthusiastically.
“Ma loves mushroom pie,” he agreed. “I know all the spots edible mushrooms sprout regularly around here. I could accompany you and show you.”
Hope was delighted. She felt a little guilty at the trap she’d sprung under the guise of doing something for Margaret, but her motives were pure, and she did want to show her appreciation to Jackson’s Ma. If Jackson chose to join her, that was his choice.
Less than an hour later, Sweetpea and Horse rode side by side as Jackson and Hope chatted about the ranch, the sheep, the festival, and Jackson’s improved dancing skills. She wanted to ask him about the kiss, more to be sure that it wasn’t a mistake, but she didn’t think it was proper to ask.
Jackson seemed as though he wanted to be around her.
She would find him looking at her, and then he’d suddenly glance away and speed up, as if embarrassed.
She wondered if he regretted kissing her, and she blushed when she thought of how eagerly she had kissed him back.
Hope’s heart was in turmoil, and she could no longer keep silent.
“Jackson,” she said gently. “If last night…was too much for you, then I feel I should apologize.”
Jackson seemed shocked at her words. He stared at her open-mouthed and shook his head. He then went to speak, but a bellow from a steer sounded nearby, far more urgent than it should have.
They both turned their horses around, trying to track the cow in distress. Men shouted in the distance, followed by more cows lowing.
“Something’s not right,” Jackson said, kicking at Horse and bolting forward.
Hope kept pace, her mind racing as Sweetpea cantered after them.
What could’ve caused the panic in those voices, and what had happened to the cows?
She didn’t even know if they were still on Hale Ranch or if they had drifted onto a neighboring property.
Jackson suddenly changed direction, and she followed, trying to see ahead.
She could make out two men frantically shouting for help, and though she could hear cattle, she couldn’t see any.
As they neared the men, she could spot the swollen bodies of several cows, drenched in sweat and lying in the grass.
Some were panting or lowing, while others were too still to be alive.
She was horrified to realize that some were only calves.
“Oh, Jackson,” Hope whispered under her breath, her heart in her throat.
“What’s happened here, Matthew?” Jackson asked as he threw himself off Horse and dropped to his knees at the side of one of the cows.
Hope noticed how Jackson never failed to spring to action when he was needed, even if that meant putting his own feelings aside. His ability to react quickly under pressure and make decisions was something she admired, since she often doubted her own choices.
“Something fouled the creek,” the young ranch hand replied. “Some of the herd refused to drink, and they’re going down from lack of water.”
“These cows here drank,” the second hand replied. “They been sick all morning, and we can’t get them on their feet.”
“Mark, did you inspect the water diverted to Simon’s land?” Jackson asked.
“There was a dead dog in the water higher up,” Mark replied with a shake of his head. “Thing is, no dog would be out this far without his master.”
Jackson’s expression turned dark, and Hope felt she knew what he was thinking. She felt the same fear grip her own heart. This had been a deliberate attack.
“Is it him?” she asked, and immediately felt all eyes present fall on her.
“Do you mean Victor Langford, ma’am?” Matthew asked, before he spat into the grass and the closest cow lowed painfully.
Hope turned to Jackson and saw his anger immediately. She had seen a similar look on his face the afternoon before, when Victor had introduced himself to her. Jackson had easily brushed Victor off then, but she could tell by the fear in the men’s eyes that Victor was a threat not easily defeated.
“But Victor’s land is far from Simon’s,” Jackson reasoned. “Why is he attacking here?”
Matthew and Mark shared a look that told Hope Jackson was wrong.
“Didn’t you know Mr. Langford tricked old Simon into selling off some of his land? It was bought in a cheap deal,” Matthew explained.
“It’s no easy task to trick Simon,” Jackson observed.
“Langford bought it under a different name, claiming to be a new rancher in desperate need. The agreement was that he’d rent it, but when Simon checked the paperwork, he saw it’d been changed.”
“Simon nearly murdered someone when he realized what was happening,’ Mark added.
“But it means Victor has stretched himself right onto our border,” Matthew concluded. “And this attack…” He stopped and shook his head.
“It means he wants more,” Mark said, spitting into the grass again.
Hope glanced at Jackson and saw the rage brimming just beneath the surface. If Victor Langford was on Simon’s border, then that meant he was edging onto Ethan’s as well, and wasn’t too far from them either.
“He’s going to come for you next, Jackson,” Matthew said. “Mark my words.”
The words felt like a stab at her chest, and she felt fear growing there. After all, an attack on Jackson was an attack on her as well.
“There’s no time for that,” Jackson said with a shake of his head. “These cows need to be tended to. Don’t let them be milked, or allow any of the calves to drink from them.”
Mark nodded. “What’s to be done?”
Help felt a desperate need to help, the sight of the sick cows almost too much to bear.
“We’ll need to put these ones in a pen and slowly feed them clean water and hay,” Jackson ordered. “Mark, get the rest of the herd away from that water source.”
“I can help herd them,” Hope said, mounting Sweetpea.
Jackson nodded at her while he turned back to the sick cow at his knees.
As she rode away, she felt grateful for something to do to take her mind off the growing threat surrounding Victor Langford.
She now realized that he had always been there in the two months she’d been at the ranch, a menacing presence who Jackson had shielded her from for as long as he could.
As Hope called out and rallied the rest of the herd forward, following Mark’s instructions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Victor Langford was not going to leave them untouched much longer.
She thought back to all the whisperings and conversations about sabotage around the ranches, and then Victor’s own formal introduction to her.
Victor was letting Jackson know he was next.