And then he’d died, slipping away on a cold March morning while she’d dozed in the chair beside his bed, and she’d woken to find him gone and the room unnaturally quiet without the sound of his labored breathing. And work had still consumed her because grief was a luxury she couldn’t afford. The care of the animals and the day-to-day operation of the ranch couldn’t stop just because her heart was broken. The cattle still needed feeding. The fences still needed mending. Life went on with brutal indifference.
Her foreman had taken over so she could see to all the funeral arrangements. And then there were papers to be signed and his estate to see to. So the day after her father had been put in the ground, she and Cole had married. And then life went on. There hadn’t been time to cry.
Cole moved close to her and placed his hand upon her cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb.
“He was one of the best men I’ve ever known,” Cole continued. “In a lot of ways, he was more of a father than my own was. I know my father loved me in his own way, but I always felt like a burden. And then after my brother…” He paused. “I just wanted to make him proud. You don’t realize how lucky you were.”
“I do,” she said softly. “I miss him every day.” She leaned into his hand slightly and then moved away to stand in front of the fire and warm her chilled hands.
“When he came to me, it was almost like he was warning me against agreeing to what he was asking. He said you were independent, hot headed, and smart mouthed. He told me you were loyal to a fault and had a great capacity for love. He told me you worked harder than any man he’d ever known, and that the ranch was your joy. And that if I were to marry you, I should never dim your joy. I’ve done everything he asked, but I failed at the one thing that was most important to him. You’ve had no joy over the last year of our marriage.”
“That’s not true,” she said, turning to face him. “Don’t you understand that you have been the only joy I’ve felt since my father’s death? My whole life has been turned upside down. My father was all I had after my mother died. And he did the best he could. He showed me what it meant to love and care for the land. To know the importance of what he and my grandfather had worked so hard for. To instill pride in my legacy, so that legacy can be passed on to my own children—our children—for generations to come.”
She rubbed at her arms, but she found she couldn’t quite look him in the eye when she mentioned children. Adelaide’s words about her not conceiving yet had pierced deep.
Her mouth was dry, her throat tight with emotion, but she continued because if she stopped now she might never find the courage again. The words felt too big, too dangerous, like she was standing on the edge of a cliff deciding whether to jump.
“And then, just like that, he was gone. And I was left with the ranch, the only thing besides my father that I’d loved for all the years when it had been just me and him. But working every day only made me realize the absence of my father. There’s been no joy there. But there was you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word.
She forced herself to look at him, to meet his eyes even though it felt like standing naked in the town square. Her hands were trembling and she pressed them against her thighs to still them. “The only time I’ve felt anything the past year is when I’m with you. When you touch me. When we’re together in the darkness and I don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore.”
She took a shaky breath, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. This was it. The thing she’d never said, never dared to say because saying it out loud made her vulnerable in a way that terrified her. But Adelaide’s words—no reason to stay—echoed in her mind and she realized she had nothing left to lose.
“I…love you.” The words came out barely above a whisper, but they hung in the air between them like something alive and fragile. “I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old and you came back from the war. I used to watch you ride past the ranch and make up stories about what it would be like if you noticed me. My dad somehow knew that. He must have. I don’t want you to leave. And I know that’s selfish. Why would you want to stay?”
Her voice cracked on the last words and she had to look away, unable to bear seeing rejection in his eyes, unable to watch him search for kind words to let her down gently.
Cole moved in fast and close and grasped her arms. “Are you kidding me? Why wouldn’t I want to stay? You’re my wife. All know is you walked by the sheriff’s office one day, and I stopped everything I was doing, mesmerized.”
He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled in that way that made her heart skip. “I went outside to get a better look and got to witness you giving the blacksmith a heck of a dressing-down. You were magnificent. Standing there in your work clothes with your hands on your hips, telling Tom Henderson exactly where he could shove his excuses about the horseshoes he’d promised and hadn’t delivered.”
He laughed, the memory clearly vivid in his mind. “You were barely seventeen, but you weren’t backing down an inch even though Tom’s twice your size and has a temper to match his bulk. And when he tried to tell you that maybe you should send one of your ranch hands to handle ‘men’s business,’ I thought you were going to climb over his anvil and throttle him with your bare hands.”
His eyes softened as he looked at her. “You told him that you were handling your father’s business because your father trusted you to do it right, and if Tom had a problem with that, he could take it up with your father personally—but he should know that your father had even less patience for excuses than you did. And then you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving poor Tom standing there with his mouth hanging open.”
Cole reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I stood there watching you stride down the street, and I couldn’t look away. You moved like you owned the whole town. And I realized right then and there that I was in serious trouble.”
“He shortchanged my order,” she said defensively.
“And I’m sure he never did it again,” Cole said. “Needless to say, I started paying a lot more attention to you after that day. Believe me, your father was nobody’s fool. I’m sure he noticed my interest. He’d come by the sheriff’s office and just sit in the chair in front of my desk, passing a long, thoughtful silence before he’d utter a word. Then we’d just talk. He was my friend.”
Elizabeth took in a big gulp of air, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. But then it turned into a sob.
“Please don’t go,” she said, dropping her forehead onto his chest. “Miss Adelaide said you would go, and that there was no reason to stay because I didn’t even have a baby in my belly.”
“Miss Adelaide has made a habit of sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Maybe she needs to be given a warning about disorderly conduct.”
She sniffled out a laugh and then relaxed in his arms. It felt good to be held. It felt right. But it didn’t go past her notice that he hadn’t uttered the words she’d needed to hear, though she felt they’d made tremendous strides during their conversation. Perhaps, over time, he’d be able to tell her the words.
“I have an excellent idea,” he said, twining his arms around her. His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath her ear and her heart started pounding.
“Umm…”
“It’s amazing how you can never find your words when I do this,” he said, blowing against her neck.
“Ahh…”
He laughed and bit the lobe of her ear. And then he found her mouth, taking it deep, their tongues melding and passions rising. He walked her into the bedroom, never taking his lips from hers, disrobing her a piece at a time. When he laid her back on the white cloud of the bed, she felt the love he hadn’t spoken.
