“Yes,” Julia answered softly. But she didn’t think she and Victoria meant the same thing.
Hugh watched Julia and wondered at the different expressions that played across her face. She wasn’t as good as Hugh at hiding her emotions, but that didn’t mean she was always easy to read either. His mum used to say,
“There are deep secrets in a woman’s heart, Hugh. Remember that when you come of age. T’will serve you well if you ‘re having that understanding.”
She’d most surely meant a woman like Julia.
“Well, at least you’ve got a strong man to help you now, Mrs. Grace. That takes away some of the worry, I’m sure.” To Hugh she said, “Have you been working at Sage-hen long, Mr. Brennan? You weren’t with Julia last year.”
“No. I haven’t been there long.”
“I see my son’s clothes fit you about as good as mine fit Mrs. Grace.”
Hugh glanced down at the trousers he wore. They were comfortable in the waist and hips, but the hem of the pant legs hit him in mid-shin. He hadn’t given the fit any thought until she pointed it out. This wasn’t the first time he’d worn clothes not meant for someone of his height. When a man had little, he learned to make do with what little he had.
Not that I speak in respect of want
, Paul wrote in the Bible,
for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content
. Good advice for a man like him.
“Well, no matter,” Victoria continued. “Your own things’ll be dry by morning.”
“Are you sure we aren’t too much trouble?” Julia asked again. “We’d planned to sleep on the trail, same as we did last night.”
Victoria frowned at her. “Thought we’d settled that. I won’t have you starting back all wet and cold. Not when I’ve got extra rooms and beds for you to sleep in.”
Hugh had only met this rancher’s wife a half an hour ago, but he would wager Julia was no match for her. To argue was futile.
“Now, you’d best excuse me while I check on that stew. It ought to be ready.” Victoria rose and hurried out of the main parlor, through the dining room, and disappeared into what Hugh supposed was the kitchen.
“I didn’t expect that we’d be asked to stay,” Julia said softly, drawing his gaze back to her.
“She’s being kind, the same way you are to others. Same way you’ve been to me.”
Julia’s cheeks turned pink, and he understood that she wasn’t anymore used to compliments than he was.
I’d like to change that
. There they were again, those same feelings he’d determined not to allow himself to feel for her. Desire. Affection. A need to be close to her. A hunger to be with her every minute of every day.
“Come along, you two,” Victoria called from the next room. “Come and eat while it’s good and hot.”
Hugh stepped toward Julia’s chair and offered his hand. She hesitated a moment before placing her fingers against his palm. He closed his hand around hers, then with a gentle pull, he helped her rise.
Her eyes still averted, she said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Reluctantly, he released her hand.
She stepped in front of him and led the way into the dining room.
It was a bigger room than he’d expected. The table would easily sit a party of sixteen or even twenty. Either the Trents had — or once planned to have — a large family or they regularly fed all the employees on their ranch at this table.
Victoria had placed bowls of stew in front of two chairs at the far end of the table, opposite each other. “Come and have a seat. There’s stew and bread and butter. You’ve got your choice of milk or coffee to drink. Both if you want ‘em. And I made a cherry cobbler today with a mighty fine crust, if I do say so myself.” She pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat down.
Hugh and Julia took their appointed places.
“Care to bless the food, Mr. Brennan?” Victoria asked before bowing her head.
A month or two ago, Hugh would have felt self-conscious, praying in front of strangers. But he’d grown more comfortable after so many meals — and blessings — with Julia, so he obliged without hesitation. Afterward, while he and Julia ate, their hostess carried on an easy conversation, occasionally asking questions. But she seemed satisfied with a nod or a brief word or two for answers.
Hugh had just taken his last bite of cherry cobbler — the woman was right; it had a mighty fine crust — when a cowboy appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Miz Trent.”
“Yes, Whitey?”
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but there’s been some trouble at the stock pens.”
Hugh saw Julia tense.
“What sort of trouble?”
“Somebody opened the gates and let out the cows.”
“Good heavens!”
The cowboy shook his head as he looked at Julia. “Not to worry, Miz Grace. Didn’t any get far. But we didn’t see who did it or where he went. We’ll try to pick up his trail in the mornin’, though I don’t reckon we’ll find him after all this rain.”
Hugh scooted his chair back from the table and stood. “I’ll keep watch down at the pens for the night,” he said to Julia. Looking at Victoria, he added, “Thanks for the meal, Mrs. Trent. It was good.”
“You’re more than welcome, Mr. Brennan. But you needn’t go. Our boys’ll make sure nothing more goes amiss.”
“All the same, I think I’d better go down there.”
Victoria nodded. “Whitey, show Mr. Brennan to the barn so he can saddle his horse.”
At the end of a rainy day, sunset splashed a glorious display of pinks and purples upon the rain clouds’ underbellies as Peter arrived home from Sage-hen. He took a moment to enjoy the colorful sky, then put up his horse and headed into the house. All was quiet within, the children having been sent to bed. A light beneath the three oldest girls’ bedroom door told him at least one of them was still awake. He heard one of them giggle as he stepped close to the door.
“I think he has beautiful eyes.” Abigail’s voice.
“They’re just eyes.” This from Bathshua. “No prettier than Pa’s or Uncle Roland’s.”
Abigail again. “How can you say that? Mark’s eyes are the bluest blue I’ve ever seen. And they spark when he laughs.”
Mark? Mark Kittson? He remembered Julia saying something about Abigail getting engaged soon and hadn’t he noticed the Kittson boy coming round their place all spring. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it looked like Julia could be right.
He shook his head as he moved down the hall toward his own bedroom. A light still burned there too. His wife never turned out the lamp until he was in bed beside her.
Rose was seated in a wingback chair, knitting needles clicking away. “You’re home,” she said as he closed the door behind him. “It’s late.”
“Yeah, it took a little longer than I expected.”
“Everything okay at Julia’s?”
“Yep.”
“Tomorrow you take one of the girls with you. You’ll get done in half the time. You’re working too hard as it is.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me, Rosie.”
“Those stitches in your head say different.”
He walked over to where she sat and bent over to kiss the top of her head. “Quit worrying about me. I’m fine.”
Rose sighed her agreement before setting aside the needles and yarn. “I think the girls are asleep.”
“Not all of them. I heard Abigail and Bathshua talking when I came in.” He went to the opposite side of the room, shrugging out of his suspenders and slipping off his shirt. “Julia seems to think Abigail and Mark Kittson have formed an attachment for each other. I told her I didn’t think so but —”
“Peter Collins, are you telling me you only just noticed?” His wife laughed. “Why that boy goes positively tongue-tied every time Abigail gets within ten yards of him. He’s been that way for the past six months or more.”
“But you don’t think it’s serious, do you?” He dropped his nightshirt over his head.
Rose’s arms went around his waist from behind, and she gave him a squeeze. Then he turned and gathered her close, glad she’d left her chair and come to stand with him. Glory, but he loved this woman. God had been good to bring them together. “Abigail’s too young,” he whispered into her hair.
“I was in love with you at that age.”
“I know but it … it’s different somehow.”
Rose laughed again. “It’s different because she’s your daughter.” She raised up on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. “You’d better get used to it, my love. You have ten daughters and we’re going to have boys coming courting for the next eighteen or twenty years.”
He groaned — half in jest, half in earnest — then drew her with him to the bed.
“You mustn’t worry, Mrs. Grace,” Victoria said. “The boys’ll protect the cattle. Besides, they’re Trent cattle now.”
Julia pushed her chair away from the table, intending to rise. “They’re my cattle until we complete the transaction and you pay me for them. I should go with Hugh.”
Victoria stopped her by laying a hand on her arm. “Dear girl, do you mind a word of advice?”
Julia shook her head.
“A man likes to be a man. He likes to take care of his woman. Let your Mr. Brennan look out for the cows. It’s one way of him sayin’ he cares for you.”
“My Mr…. cares for … You’re mistaken, Mrs. Trent. Hugh Brennan works for me. That’s all. We are nothing more than employer and employee.”
The older woman’s eyes were skeptical as she studied Julia. After a lengthy silence, she said, “Maybe on your part — if you insist, though I doubt it — but you’re wrong about his feelings for you. Saw it as clear as day.”
Julia looked toward the kitchen doorway where Hugh had disappeared from view a short time before. She wanted to tell Victoria that she was the one who was wrong, but then she remembered the way he looked at her sometimes and the tone of his voice when he spoke to her.
Could it be true?
Julia turned toward Victoria. “I don’t want him to care. I have no intention of ever marrying again.”
“No? Well, let me tell you this. It’s good for a woman to love her husband while he’s livin’, but learnin’ to love again after he’s gone doesn’t take away from that. You don’t run out of the capacity to love, you know. There’s always more love available.”
Love? Love for Angus? No, that wasn’t the reason she would
never marry again. She hadn’t ever had a chance to learn to love her husband. She’d wanted to. She’d tried to. She’d married him believing — as only a young and foolish and romantic girl could — that love would grow between them. But he hadn’t cared if she loved him or not.
“You would have no way of knowing this,” Victoria continued, “but Mr. Trent wasn’t my first husband. I was married before. Michael was his name, and oh my, I did love that man with everything in me. But he was killed in an accident and left me a widow with a small son to raise. I didn’t know how I was going to manage. And then I met Timothy Trent. His love healed my heart, and we built a good life together, we and our sons.”
“You’re very blessed,” Julia said, her throat tight.
“Don’t I know it. And all I’m sayin’ is, don’t close yourself off from love when it comes knockin’ at your door. You never know what the good Lord might have in store for you if you just say yes to it.”
Julia rubbed her forehead with the fingers of her right hand, trying to massage away the pressure that was starting to build. “I hope you won’t think me rude, Mrs. Trent, but I believe I’d like to retire.”
“Not rude at all. If I’d spent two days trailin’ a bunch of cows, my head would be achin’ too. Not to mention my backside.” She released a soft laugh. “You go on. A good night’s sleep’ll make all the difference. You’ll see things clearer in the morning.”
Julia hoped her hostess was right. But first she had to
fall
asleep, and she wasn’t sure when that would happen. Not with thoughts of Hugh Brennan filling her head.
Oh please, God. Mrs. Trent has to be wrong. I don’t want him to care for me. Not that way
.
Hugh returned to the ranch house just before dawn. Three of the Trent cowboys had stayed behind to continue the watch, although no one thought the rustler — if stealing the cattle had been the troublemaker’s intent — would return.
Hugh went into the bedroom that Mrs. Trent had shown him to the previous evening and barely got out of the borrowed clothes before he fell onto the bed and into an exhausted sleep. When he awakened a few hours later, he found his own clothes folded on a chair just inside the doorway. He poured water into the bowl on the dresser and washed up, then dressed and went in search of Julia. He found her where he’d left her the night before, in the dining room, holding a cup of coffee with both hands as she took a sip.
“Morning,” he said.
The look she gave him seemed strained. “Good morning.”
“Sorry I slept so long.”
She motioned toward the sideboard. “Breakfast is there, though it’s likely a bit cold.”
“Thanks.” He took a plate and filled it with biscuits and gravy and fried sausage. Then he sat on the chair.
“Mrs. Trent told me there was no more trouble in the night,” Julia said.
“No. No more. It was quiet.”
“She also said they haven’t had trouble with cattle thieves in many years, so this attempt was unexpected.”
He took a bite of his breakfast while he waited for Julia to continue.
“I suppose we’re lucky all the rustler had time to do was open the gates.”
Hugh wanted to bring up Charlie Prescott again, but he doubted she would listen to him. Still, his gut told him he was right. Whatever the man’s motives, her brother-in-law was behind this attempt to steal her cattle. And Hugh was certain Charlie Prescott wouldn’t stop at stealing cattle or cutting barbed wire if those things didn’t get him what he wanted. He was capable of much worse. What would he try after Hugh was gone?
The question sent a chill through him.
Julia leaned down from the saddle and shook Victoria Trent’s outstretched hand. “Thanks again for your hospitality.”
“Not at all. The least we can do for a neighbor.” Victoria took a step backward. “You take care of yourself, Mrs. Grace.”
“Thanks.”
“And you remember what I told you last night.”