Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jackson smiled when he thought about the way Hope had held him on the porch the night before.
She’d been so afraid during his absence he felt guilty for being so occupied with frustration over Sheriff Grady that he didn’t hear her out.
As the starry sky blinked down at them and the crickets chirped in applause, he should’ve found a way to tell her how he’d hated being apart from her, and how he could no longer imagine a life without her.
Instead he’d allowed the heaviness of the day to rob him of being present with Hope.
Even now, he was bitter over the hours he’d spent rounding up Simon, Andrew, and David, only to get within a few feet of the saloon before Grady and his men shut them down.
Victor had clearly been warned of their approach, which made Jackson realize the man really did have eyes everywhere.
If they were going to successfully rid the valley of Victor, they needed to be better prepared.
Jackson couldn’t risk another failure, not when he had so much to lose.
He’d been watching Hope through the kitchen window, and longed to be done with his chores so that he could go inside and see what she was baking. He looked at the sun sinking in the west and knew he needed to get on with it.
“Come on, Horse,” he called, mounting his steed. “Let’s check the fences.”
He rode away from Hope, hating having to part from her again. He’d known his feelings for her were growing stronger each day, but he didn’t know when he’d find the time or the courage to voice them to her. The continued suppression was suffocating.
Jackson paused, finding a section of fencing that had yet again been cut. He dismounted and started repairing the damage. It was then that he heard the soft murmur of men’s voices carrying on the breeze.
Jackson gripped his hammer and crept closer the source of the sound, careful to use any bushes and brush as cover. His eyes followed the fence line, and stopped suddenly when he spotted a mop of light brown hair and a lanky frame. Daniel!
Jackson couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He blinked hard and noticed Daniel’s tense shoulders and the way he protectively covered his torso with his arms, indicating he felt threatened.
Jackson stepped into view and saw the person Daniel was talking to was wearing a black riding coat and a new hat.
Both men looked up at the crunch of grass as Jackson strode towards them.
“What are you doing here?” he spat at Victor, wasting no time on pleasantries.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Jackson,” Victor said nonchalantly, looking completely at ease.
“Get off my land,” Jackson ordered, flashing a dark look at Daniel.
Daniel shrank away, and Victor pursed his lips, clearly annoyed by the interruption. Daniel arranged himself just behind Jackson, but kept his head hung low.
“This isn’t your land, is it?” Victor asked after a beat. “I could’ve sworn I owned it. Oh, right! You haven’t accepted my generous offer yet…but you will.”
“My father would turn in his grave if I sold you even a foot of Hale land,” Jackson nearly spat. “Now go.”
“Or what?” Victor asked, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’ll call Sheriff Grady? Haven’t you tried that one already?” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “No, Jackson, you’re on your own, my friend. You’ll slowly realize that you have fewer allies in this valley than you thought.”
“No one will give in to you, Victor. You’re a merciless land baron who cares nothing for people or animals,” Jackson growled.
“Oh, Jackson,” Victor chuckled. “You forget how loudly money talks. Isn’t that right, Daniel?”
So, Victor knew Daniel by his first name.
Jackson wondered how many times they’d talked over this back fence before.
His mind raced to the night the barn had been broken into and the feed had been destroyed.
Had Daniel helped them, then acted shocked right to Jackson’s face the next morning?
Jackson took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
Victor loved to use his anger against him.
“You have no right to be here!” Jackson thundered, the hammer gripped tightly in his hand as he took a step towards Victor. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Now just keep your temper, Jackson,” Victor said with a cold laugh as he mounted his horse. “We wouldn’t want that pretty wife of yours fretting over you with a broken nose.”
At the mention of Hope, Daniel took a step forward instinctively, his shoulder bumping into Jackson’s.
“Send her my regards, won’t you?” Victor said, his lips curling into a sneer as he looked down at them from his horse.
“Oh, and one last thing. You may hold some power here in the valley,” Victor said, his pale blue eyes boring into Jackson’s, “but my power extends far beyond this place. Remember that the next time you gather your little friends together to disturb my lunch at the saloon.”
Jackson’s hand tightened around the hammer, but he kept his mouth shut as Victor trotted away. Even his horse seemed to swagger arrogantly. As soon as Victor was out of earshot, Jackson rounded on Daniel.
“Darn it, Daniel!” he complained. “What in the heck are you doing out here talking to him?”
Daniel held up his hands in surrender, his eyes wide with fright.
“Now, J-Jackson,” he stammered, backing away from him. “I swear, I was out here fixing fences when Victor waved me down me because he wanted to talk to you.”
Jackson knew he was lying. If Victor had wanted to talk to him, he would’ve gone to the house.
“Tell me you’re not a traitor, Daniel,” he demanded, his voice booming.
He could see the fear in Daniel’s eyes and knew he was letting his temper slip.
“I would never do that to you!” Daniel shouted back, sounding panicked.
“You always make these promises, Daniel,” Jackson accused. “Apologies and promises! Yet neither seems to mean anything to you! What’s truly real in what you say?”
“He wanted to see you, Jackson,” Daniel stated again, his face red with anger.
Jackson couldn’t take being lied to. He thought of Hope and the years she’d endured seeing Daniel’s wide brown eyes constantly proclaiming innocence. It must’ve driven her mad. Now her quarrels with her brother made even more sense to him.
“Then why did Victor know your name?” Jackson demanded. His aim was not to win the argument, but to get Daniel to face the truth himself.
“I don’t know-”
“Don’t lie to me, Daniel,” Jackson said sternly, forcing himself to calm down. “You promised you’d come to me if you were in trouble. What is he paying you for?”
“I’m not in trouble, Jackson!” Daniel exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “Can’t you people just trust me for once?”
With that, Daniel stalked off through the grass back to the house.
Jackson knew in his heart that Daniel’s explosive anger was a ploy to escape the conversation.
He was deflecting, accusing Jackson of not trusting him so that he could hide his own guilt.
Jackson knew, for Hope’s sake, that he’d need to withhold from needlessly adding to her worries until he knew what Daniel was up to for sure.
He’d be certain to keep a close eye on Daniel from now on.
Jackson stalked back towards the main part of the ranch and finished repairing the fence, using the time to cool down.
By the time he rode Horse back to the house, the first evening stars were sparkling against a pale pink sky.
The tips of the mountains caught the last rays of dying light, and the firs were a deep indigo where they lay in shadow.
Jackson couldn’t stand the thought of losing everything around him. His ma and pa had built this whole ranch up from nothing, and now Victor was right at his doorstep, stealing Daniel from them with his silver tongue and the attractive lure of wealth.
He brushed down Horse, his heart heavy at having to face Hope with more bad news about Daniel. Would they ever find peace in their marriage? Or should he be grateful for the hardships that had been thrust upon them, simply because it had made their bond stronger?
Jackson dragged himself into the house and took a breath before going into the kitchen.
“There you are,” Hope said with a warm smile as she pulled him into the room. “I wanted some time alone with you before the others come down for supper…” She trailed off, a crease forming on her brow. “What’s wrong?”
Jackson didn’t have the heart to tell her. Not when she had a fine dusting of flour across her nose, and her cheeks were rosy with the flush of life. He didn’t want to ruin her evening, even if it meant he had to carry the burden of Daniel alone until he knew more.
“I missed you,” Jackson said. “That’s all.”
Hope smiled, but he could see by the shadow in her eyes that she didn’t fully believe him.
“I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” Hope said, her gaze perceptive. “Come on, I thought of something to cheer us both up.”
As her fingers interlaced with his and she pulled him to the stove, Jackson felt the heaviness over him lighten a little. Hope pulled a cloth from the top of a bowl and revealed a large mass of dough.
“Uh…” He raised an eyebrow and smiled, though he was confused. “You’re going to have to help me here, Hope. I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“It’s dough,” she said, giggling. “For doughnuts.”
“Doughnuts?” he asked with a frown.
She laughed again, her warm, gentle voice soothing to listen to after the harsh interaction with Victor.
“It’s a recipe my ma taught me,” Hope explained, her expression one of fondness. “You take balls of dough and fry them in lard.”
Jackson’s nose crinkled, and his mouth pulled into a frown at the idea. Hope laughed again.
“Then you roll them in cinnamon sugar,” she explained.
“Sounding better,” he admitted. “The dough smells different.”
“I seasoned it with cinnamon and a little ginger,” she explained. “But this is where I need your help.”
“I’m yours to command,” Jackson said, his attention fixed entirely on Hope.
He noticed how she blushed at his words and seemed to fumble with the bowl of dough. Some of it dropped onto the floor and they both knelt to pick it up, the sticky dough attaching itself to his boot.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, a giggle escaping as she tried to get it off.
His fingers stroked hers as he helped collect the dough, and he found himself staring into her eyes, their faces inches apart.
“My, my,” Margaret said, sounding amused. Jackson looked up and saw his Ma and Clara entering the kitchen. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, giving Jackson a wink.
It was one of the rare occasions he didn’t want his ma around. He helped Hope up, and struggled not to fidget like a schoolboy caught with a pocketful of stolen sweets.
“We smelt smoke,” Clara explained, hiding a smile behind her hand.
Hope spun around, and Jackson noticed the pan of lard smoking.
She was about to grab the cast iron handle with her bare hand when Margaret stepped in and removed it from the stove with a cloth.
Hope was usually so competent in the kitchen, Jackson had to assume he was the reason she was going to pieces.
While a part of him felt guilty, another part secretly enjoyed the adorable way she looked so flustered.
“There now, that’s better,” Margaret said, eyeing Clara. “Let’s leave Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Hale to their cooking. If we starve to death while waiting for dinner, we can raid the pantry later.”
Clara giggled, and the pair bustled out of the kitchen again.
Jackson turned back to Hope, grateful to be alone with her again.
From feeling like complete strangers, it now felt stranger to be apart.
He constantly longed to be close to her, but part of him couldn’t be sure if she felt the same way, especially when she seemed a little uncomfortable around him every so often.
“What’s going on with us?” he asked, elbowing her gently.
“When you’re around,” Hope admitted in a low voice while sweeping a curl out of her eyes with the back of her hand, “I find I forget how to…do simple things.”
Jackson smiled at her. “Funny you should mention that. I even put my shirt on inside-out this morning.”
Hope dropped the whole container of cinnamon at that, and a cloud of brown dust made them both sneeze, then explode into helpless giggles as they walked away coughing. Hope covered her face with embarrassment and looked as though she wanted to flee the kitchen.
“It’s no use,” she said, wiping her tears of laughter. “I can’t teach you anything like this.”
Jackson was having too much fun for her to give up on him. Laughing for a minute with Hope undid days of tension, and he felt he could breathe again at last. When they finally stopped laughing, Jackson dusted the flour from her cheek. Her eyes widened with surprise, and he withdrew his hand shyly.
“Let’s try again together,” he urged, picking up some dough. “I promise I’ll be a better helper.”
“Good, because we’re practicing these so we can make them for dinner tomorrow night,” Hope said. “I invited Ethan. I’m sure he misses Clara and his parents.”
“That’s a kind idea, Hope. You’re always thinking of others,” Jackson said with a smile.
Hope smiled back, and he wanted to believe that she was enjoying their time together as much as he was.
They felt like a real couple, no longer the two strangers that had nervously exchanged vows in the church.
He wished he could simply push away all thoughts of Daniel and Victor from his mind, and just be with her for a bit.
While shaping the dough, they chatted about the number of new lambs that had been born and expanding the farmhouse so that Hope could have a sewing room.
After frying the doughnuts, they rolled them in cinnamon sugar, the house filling with the scent of warm spices.
Jackson found himself staring at Hope, trying to memorize every detail of her smile, the light in her eyes, and the star-shaped birthmark under her eye.
No matter what came, he would hold onto the memory of this night in the kitchen forever.