“If you don’t mind me asking, Julia, how long have you been widowed?”
Perhaps she should mind, but she didn’t. Perhaps she shouldn’t answer, but she did. “A year and a bit.”
“Not long then. I reckon it’s hard to talk about still.”
“Yes.” But not for the reasons you think
.
It puzzled Hugh, this desire to know more about Julia Grace. Even more surprising was his seeming willingness to respond to whatever she said or asked. He hadn’t spoken as many words to any single individual in the past decade. At least not in a few days’ time.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he added softly. He knew something about loss, and whatever pain she felt, he wished he could ease it for her.
“Thank you.” She seemed ready to say more, but Bandit hopped up from where he’d been lying in the shade and went to stand beside his mistress, hackles raised. Julia looked toward the barnyard as two men rode into view. She drew a deep breath before saying, “It’s okay, Bandit. It’s just Charlie.” Then she walked out to meet them in the barnyard.
Hugh stayed where he was, half-hidden by a sheet on the line.
“Afternoon, Julia,” one of the men said.
“Charlie. What brings you to Sage-hen?”
“We came by to tell you I lost a couple of cows to a wolf attack earlier in the week. Thought you should know so you can be on the lookout.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I’ve got some of my men out hunting for the wolf now.”
“Just one?”
“That’s what the tracks suggest.” The man named Charlie motioned with his head toward Bandit. “You might want to make sure that dog of yours stays close to home. He’s too old to outrun a wolf.”
“Bandit doesn’t ever get too far from me. We take care of each other.”
Charlie leaned a forearm on the saddle horn. “Wish you’d sell me this place, Julia. Then you wouldn’t have to depend on a dog to take care of you.”
Hugh saw Julia’s back stiffen and wondered what expression she wore.
“I appreciate your concern.” Her tone said otherwise.
“You shouldn’t be on this place alone.”
There was a lengthy pause before she answered, “I’m not alone.” She glanced over her shoulder toward Hugh. “I’ve hired a man to help around the place.”
Something in her eyes — hard to say what exactly — caused Hugh to step out from behind the sheet. After a moment, she faced Charlie again, and Hugh turned his gaze in the same direction.
He knew the look of a dangerous man when he saw one … and he saw one now.
For years, Julia had tried not to dislike Charlie Prescott. After all, the only thing she truly had against her brother-in-law was his blood relationship to Angus.
Yes, Charlie had hired on the men who used to work for her husband. But how could she object when she hadn’t had the money
to keep them working for her? She should be glad that they’d found employment without having to look far and wide. She
was
glad for them.
Yes, it irritated her that Charlie persisted in trying to buy Sage-hen from her. She wished he would accept her decision to stay and work the ranch herself. But that was no reason to dislike him either.
No, Charlie had not wronged her. Not really. His biggest flaw was that he looked and sounded too much like Angus Grace. At least that’s what she told herself as she glanced at him and tried to subdue a tiny shiver that moved up her spine.
“Who is he?” Charlie asked.
“His name is Brennan. Hugh Brennan.”
“He’s not from around here.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“I don’t like it, Julia.”
I don’t care what you like
.
“How long’s he been working for you?”
“Not long.” Not that it’s any of your business
.
Charlie shook his head. “Angus always said you were a hard one to keep in line.”
It was as if she could feel the back of a hand connect with her jaw. Although she knew no one had touched her, she felt herself fly backward and slam against a wall. Fear and pain exploded inside of her. So real. So familiar. She wanted to run and hide. She wanted to curl into a ball and pray for protection. But somehow she did neither. She stood her ground and met Charlie’s too-much-like-Angus’s blue eyes with what she hoped was a confident expression.
“Did he?” She shrugged. “I didn’t know that.” The latter was a falsehood. Angus had said it to her face more than once.
Charlie straightened in the saddle. “Well, keep an eye out for that wolf. Don’t want you losing any of your herd. You can’t afford it.”
She nodded, though what she wanted was to tell him he was wrong. Only he wasn’t. She couldn’t afford to lose any of her cattle. Not to wolves or weather or any other cause.
With one last glance toward Hugh, Charlie turned his horse and rode away, his ranch hand quickly doing the same. Julia stayed where she was until they were out of sight.
“Who was that?”
She released a soft gasp of surprise. She hadn’t heard Hugh’s approach, hadn’t known he now stood so close behind her. “My brother-in-law.” She turned to face him. “His name is Charlie Prescott. He owns a neighboring spread to the north of here.”
“Are you all right?”
“All right?”
“Did he threaten you?” A shadow covered his face. “You seem upset.”
Julia looked up to see if the day had turned cloudy, but the sky was clear.
“If there’s something you need —”
“I don’t need anything.”
“If you’re sure.”
Odd, wasn’t it? That Charlie, who she’d known for more than a decade, made her feel so uneasy, though without reason. But that Hugh, who she’d known a matter of days, made her feel safe, protected. Also without reason? “I’m fine, Hugh. Thanks.”
He continued to watch her, but she had no idea what he thought. His expression gave away no clues.
“I’d best finish hanging the laundry,” she said. “Maybe you should take care of feeding the livestock.” She sounded abrupt although she hadn’t meant to.
He tugged on the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right to it.” He turned on his heel.
“Hugh.”
He stopped and looked back.
“I meant it. Thank you. For all you’ve done around the place while you’ve been here.”
He gave her one of those lopsided half-smiles before nodding and heading toward the barn once again.
Rose Collins was on the way to the barn when she saw Charlie Prescott and another cowboy cantering their horses down the road. There was only one reason for him to be out this way — he’d called on Julia again.
Wretched man.
Fear niggled at her spine. What would happen if Charlie Prescott got his hands on Sage-hen? He would turn his attention to her family’s farm, that’s what. He was the type of man who would never have enough. He was hungry for more and more land, more and more cattle, more and more wealth, more and more power. Julia didn’t think Charlie was cruel like Angus had been. Rose thought he might be worse, in a different way.
She stepped into the shadowy interior of the barn and stopped to allow her eyes to adjust. Then she made her way to the stall where Peter was doctoring an injured colt.
“I just saw Mr. Prescott coming down the road from Julia’s place,” she said.
Her husband glanced up. “She won’t sell to him.”
“She might not have a choice. She’s got nobody to help her. Prescott hired away the men who used to work for Angus. Who’s she gonna get to help her drive the cattle to the Double T?”
“Guess if needs be, I could go with her.”
“You’ve got a good heart, Peter Collins, and I love you all the
more for wanting to help your neighbor every way you can. But you know good and well you’ve already got all you can do here on your own place.”
He set down the colt’s leg. “Rosie girl, I guess we’ll have to trust the Lord to provide.”
God knew she loved her husband. Had loved him since she first laid eyes on him when she was a girl of fourteen. But sometimes his easy-going nature made her feel like shaking him until his teeth rattled. Sure, she knew she was supposed to trust the Lord and not worry about tomorrow. Easier said than done, especially when they had ten children to feed and clothe. Ten daughters, Abigail the oldest at seventeen and Jemima the youngest at two months. Every last one of them loved and wanted, no doubt about it. Still, it wasn’t easy providing for a large family.
“Rosie—” Peter stepped out of the stall — “we’ve done fine all these years. We’ll do fine in the years to come. You’ll see.”
She shook her head. “Angus Grace was a mean sort. You know how I felt about him and the way he treated Julia. Can’t help thinking the world’s a better place without him in it, God have mercy on his miserable soul. But I don’t trust Charlie Prescott. He might seem nicer on the outside, but I don’t think he is. He wants Sage-hen, and if he gets it, he’ll want our land next. Nothing he has will ever be enough. Mark my words.”
“Let’s let tomorrow’s trouble take care of itself.” Peter put his arm around her shoulders and leaned close to plant a kiss on the top of her head.
Rose sighed. Her husband would never change, and she was glad of it. He kept her on a steady course, this man of the soil. They’d had twenty years as husband and wife and had come through plenty of life’s storms. But they’d seen them through side-by-side.
Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Peter said, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”
No, nothing she said would change her husband, and she wouldn’t want it to. So she simply smiled up at him before leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked out of the barn together.
Hugh awakened on Sunday morning to the sound of rain on the barn and thunder rolling in the distance. Satisfaction with a job well-done brought a smile to his lips. He’d patched the roof just in time. The loft would stay dry no matter how long or hard it stormed.
Lying on his back, he put his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling. The cool air that swirled through the open door smelled fresh and moist. And despite the room being almost as small as a prison cell, no dread of a closed space threatened. Not this morning. He’d slept sound, without any nightmares. Maybe the bad memories were beginning to fade. Maybe, with God’s help, they wouldn’t torture him any longer.
Closing his eyes, he thanked the Lord for His tender mercies, then pushed off the covers and sat up. Another clap of thunder sounded, this one much closer than the last. His horse — in one of the stalls to protect his bad leg — snorted his objection to the clatter.
At supper the previous evening, Julia had informed Hugh that he wasn’t expected to do any work on the Lord’s Day other than to make certain the livestock had food and water. He’d asked if she
would be going into town to attend church services in the morning, thinking he might join her. She’d answered with a shake of her head but had given no reason. He wondered why. What could the reason be? He was certain she was a believer.
But it’s not my business why
.
He rose, poured some water into a large porcelain bowl, and washed his face. After dressing, he left his quarters, walking to the barn door. He didn’t have to open it to know it was raining cats and dogs. He opened it anyway.
The heavens were a dark pewter, slung low to the earth, the barnyard all puddles and mud. No chickens were visible outside the coop. Smart birds. A horse in the nearby corral stood with his rump to the wind, his head down and eyes closed. A glance toward the house told Hugh his employer hadn’t slept in. Smoke was momentarily visible above the cook-stove chimney before being swept away by the storm.
The front door opened, and Julia stepped onto the porch just as a flash of lightning illuminated the barnyard, followed a heartbeat later by a crash of thunder. The entire barn seemed to shudder, and Hugh flinched, half-expecting the building to tumble down around his ears.
Mighty glad I’m not out in this, Lord. Thanks for providing a place to stay
.
“Mr. Brennan!”
He looked toward the porch again and saw Julia motion for him to join her.
“Breakfast,” she added before returning inside.
There was no way to get to the house without getting soaked, but he wasn’t about to forego a meal because of rain. He leaned the top of his head into the wind and ran across the barnyard, trying to
avoid the deeper puddles the best he could. In a matter of seconds, he was on the porch — and dripping from head to foot. He stepped to the threshold but stopped there and looked inside.
“Come in, Mr. Brennan,” Julia said as she attended to something on the stove.
“I … uh … I’ll drip all over your floors. And my boots are muddy.”
She glanced toward the door, a look of surprise in her eyes. Then she released a wry laugh — or so it seemed to Hugh. “You won’t track in anything the floors haven’t seen before. But I’ll get you a towel so you can dry off a bit. No point you catching cold from the damp.”
“Thanks, ma’am.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Julia,” he corrected.
After she left the kitchen, Hugh leaned against the doorjamb and removed his boots, stepping into the parlor in his stocking feet. The right sock had a hole over his big toe. He thought to tug at the sock to try to hide its pitiful state, but Julia returned before he could.
As she handed him the towel, she said, “That sock could use mending before you get a blister from your boot.”
“‘Fraid I don’t have a needle.” He shrugged, embarrassed. Ashamed to admit he hadn’t had the money to replace something so inexpensive. “Lost it along the trail.”
But it wasn’t judgment he saw in her eyes. It was compassion. “I have needles and lots of thread. If you’ll bring me what needs mending, I’ll see to it.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do my sewing for me. But I’d borrow that needle and use some of your thread.”
There was that flicker of surprise in her eyes again. And just as quick as the last time, it disappeared, only this time she didn’t laugh or smile. “As you wish.” She turned from him. “Now you’d better sit down and eat. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
A restless energy swirled inside of Julia as she ate her breakfast. She kept her eyes averted from the man on the opposite side of the table. Hugh’s mere presence seemed to make her say and do foolish things. Darn his socks! Why ever would she volunteer to do such a thing? Of course she would let him borrow a needle. In fact, she would
give
him one — and some thread to go with it — but it wasn’t her place to take on his mending. She was his employer, not his wife.