Chapter Twenty-Two
The night was perfectly quiet, almost oppressive with its stillness.
The crickets had gone quiet, and not even a breeze stirred the leaves of the old ash tree in front of the house.
There wasn’t even the sound of cattle that usually permeated the ranch, as the herd was out enjoying summer grazing.
One would be forgiven for thinking that this silence would have made it easier to keep watch, but in reality, it just made Cody jumpy.
He whipped his head around to stare at every little twitch and creak.
He’d taken up a spot on the porch, but he was restless.
He couldn’t explain what had rattled him so; all he knew was that he’d taken the rifle down from over the fireplace and had leaned it against the railing of the porch.
Unable to sit still, he picked up the gun and began to pace again, not even sure what he was looking for. Something just felt wrong.
It had been Amelia’s reaction to something on the dance floor.
He didn’t know what it was, and he hadn’t asked.
Her fear had been real and palpable, and she had unconsciously clung to him like a drowning woman.
He’d never seen her like that, her face pale and her eyes wide with real, genuine fear.
To her credit, her first action after seeing whatever it was had been to find the children.
From that moment, Cody had felt keyed up, his eyes constantly scanning the thronging crowd that pressed in from all sides.
He was a loyal dog at heart, and his hackles were up all the way home.
Amelia and the children had settled into bed, Logan and Ruby suitably worn out from all the excitement, but Cody remained vigilant.
He paced slowly around the house, peering into the darkness in the direction of the dairy shed and chicken coop before coming back to the front. As he did so, he spotted a light on the road, bobbing along slowly. Someone was coming.
Cody’s heart pounded, but his movements remained smooth and practiced.
He worked the lever on the rifle but didn’t raise the gun just yet.
He crept forward in the darkness, using the scrub to hide his movements.
The rider approached the drive and turned in, his horse going at a sedate trot.
The rider warbled a bit of a song off-key.
“Who goes there?” Cody shouted from his somewhat concealed position.
“Cody?” Arthur replied, lifting the lantern that he’d slung casually from his saddle horn. The lantern threw out just enough light to illuminate Arthur’s face as he peered into the darkness.
“Arthur?” Cody replied, relieved. He emerged from the shadows, letting the butt of his rifle rest on the ground.
“What are you doing out here this time of night? I thought you and the family would all be snugly abed by now,” Arthur said, swinging a leg over his saddle and dropping down. He swayed slightly as he landed.
Cody reached out and caught Arthur. “You’re tipsy,” he said.
“Yep,” Arthur agreed with a grin. “Hardy made his famous punch.”
Cody rolled his eyes. Hardy’s punch was infamous throughout the whole county. “Come on,” he sighed, shepherding Arthur toward the stables. He couldn’t begrudge him the opportunity for a bit of fun—all the men needed to unwind from time to time, or it would lead to serious trouble.
Arthur, in fine spirits, draped an arm over Cody’s shoulders. “I danced with Miss Monroe,” he announced, taking his horse by the reins.
“Did you indeed?”
“Three times,” Arthur confirmed, a lovesick grin on his face. “I think she likes me. Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low,” he crooned, his voice wobbling.
“She’d have to, to put up with this,” Cody grumbled.
“Now, now,” Arthur tutted, playfully shoving Cody’s shoulder. “That’s no way for a man with everything to behave. I saw you and the missus dancing, too.”
Cody grunted. “I’m sure you did.”
“Whole town saw, in fact,” Arthur said, his voice curling with mischief. “Everyone was talking about the spark between you two. I’m happy for you,” he said, slapping Cody on the back so hard that he nearly stumbled.
Cody shrugged off his hand, feeling surly. Arthur’s good mood and triumphant happiness at his wonderful evening rankled Cody. His lips pressed together in irritation. It wasn’t that he begrudged Arthur his happiness; it was that his lightness was making Cody’s vigilant worry seem silly.
“You all left in a hurry,” Arthur continued. He swayed slightly before continuing on down the path to the stable.
“Yes,” Cody said. “Amelia was… unwell.”
“Was she?” Arthur asked. “Seemed right enough to me.”
“Well,” Cody hedged, unsure about telling Arthur about her strange change of mood. “Something seemed to unsettle her,” he said vaguely.
“Was it your galumphing about on the dance floor?” Arthur teased, grinning.
“No,” Cody snapped. “Things were going well on that score. Quite well, actually,” he said, thinking of the soft way that she had gazed at him as they danced. “But then it was like she saw something that set her off.”
“Probably saw some sour-faced old biddy glaring at you jealously,” Arthur said, waving off Cody’s concern. “It can be hard for ladies in new places. Oh, look,” Arthur said, pulling something out of his pocket. “I got a firecracker to give to Logan.”
Cody shook his head, refusing to be distracted. “It wasn’t like that. She’s not the sort of woman to waffle at some social faux pas. She was afraid of something, really afraid. I don’t know what, though, and she wasn’t exactly forthcoming on the subject.”
Arthur’s steps slowed, and Cody turned back to him, matching his pace.
Arthur’s face was thoughtful. “Well, she lived a whole life before she came here, didn’t she?
” he asked reasonably. He spoke slowly, like he was searching for words to match his thoughts.
“You don’t know what she’s gone through, or what she had to do to survive. ”
Cody absorbed this, turning Arthur’s words over in his head. They reached the stable, and Cody slid it open. There was truth in what Arthur said. Though he had some vague idea, the fact of the matter was that Cody knew very few specifics about Amelia or her life prior to arriving on his doorstep.
“Comes love’s old song,” Arthur sang, pulling Cody from his thoughts. He leaned close to his horse, humming to it.
“Go to bed,” Cody said with tolerant irritation. He laid his rifle aside and took over unsaddling Arthur’s horse. “And try not to burn anything down,” he added.
Arthur turned and gave Cody a sardonic salute before moseying off to his little cabin. Cody could hear him humming as he went along, his mood unflappable.
Cody, meanwhile, sighed and began tending to the horse.
He pulled the bridle off, exchanging it for a halter and clipping a rope to it.
The horse secured, Cody slid the saddle from the horse and set about brushing the sweaty, matted hair underneath with vigorous motions.
The easy, repetitive nature of the work set him at ease.
Despite Arthur’s inebriated state, Cody couldn’t deny that there was a sort of wisdom in his words.
The fact was that Cody didn’t know Amelia all that well, and her past was largely unknown.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care as such; it was simply that he’d never given it much thought.
He knew the basics and figured that would be enough.
She’d always been so capable that it hadn’t seemed possible that she might be harboring fears that ran as deep as his own.
Whatever it is, it can’t really be all that bad, Cody reasoned.
Despite the logic, he wasn’t entirely sure if he believed it. He remained on the porch all night, watching for something he wasn’t even sure really existed.