“That was scary,” she murmured, more to inform herself they were safe than to inform Jace of anything.
“You were never in any danger.” He seemed as calm as the midday sky.
“I’d like to believe that’s true.”
“Believe it or not, it is.”
Something about those words stirred a thought. Somehow, it applied to his situation and the ranch, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what she meant. Before she could, he spoke.
“What happened to your husband?” He gave her a quick glance. “I hope I don’t offend you by asking.”
“His name was Edmund.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Eddie is named after him. And I don’t mind you asking about him.” She studied her hands, folded together in her lap. To an onlooker, she would appear relaxed. For the most part, she could discuss Edmund’s death without her heart twisting, but there was always a little bit of something she didn’t want to face. Nor could she even say what it was. Sorrow, of course. Surprise. Sadness. And yes, a touch of anger and resentment that he had done something that affected her without consideringthe consequences.
Jace leaned over his knees, the lines in his hands. Had he given up on her answering?
Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it noisily, she began. “Edmund died in a wreck with a horse.” Her voice caught, and she couldn’t say more.
“Ah, that explains it.” His decisive nod said he understood when, of course, he couldn’t possibly.
“What does it explain?” He had no idea how it had changed her life.
“Why you are afraid to let Eddie ride a horse.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“If you say so.” Totally unconvinced.
“Edmund was acting foolishly. With no concern about how it would affect us. Me and Eddie. A foolish dare to jump his horse over a chasm.” She snorted hot angry air. “What would it prove if he had? But instead, he died a senseless death, leaving me with a two-year-old to raise on my own.” Another hot blast of air from her lips. “And no home. We lived in a company house.”
He touched the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”
The spot held a comforting warmth. She drew in a steadying breath. “Father welcomed me back. I was ever so grateful to him.” Her words quivered. Pain replaced her anger. “And now he’s gone.”
“Tell me what happened to him.”
His gentleness beckoned. She wanted to talk to someone. So far, he’d proven to be a good listener.
“A year ago, Father caught pneumonia and passed. He coughed so much at the end I know death was a relief for him. But again, I was alone. Little did I know he had mortgaged the house. I had a year, and then I was ousted.” Strength returned, and she sat up tall and stared ahead at the rocky trail. “And so I came to live with Chet and take care of his home. And we know how that has turned out.” At an urgency to persuade him to reconsider, she flung around to face him. “I need a home.”
He opened his mouth tospeak.
“Stop saying I can live there and run the ranch. I can’t, and we both know it. You need to take over. Out of respect for Chet. And if you can’t do that, then do it so Eddie and I have a home.”
“We’re almost at the next station. I know the agent—Bart. He and his wife, Dawn, will feed you and let you stay there until the next stagecoach. They’re good people.”
His words slammed into her, and she sat back, her teeth clenched. She’d begged. She’d given him her reasons—sound reasons. Nothing she said made a difference.
Well, she huffed. She’d lost two homes. She did not intend to lose her only remaining option because, no matter what Jace said, she would not marry a desperate miner. In one of his letters to her father, Chet had described the living conditions of those searching for gold. A hastily erected shack that barely kept out the weather. Dirt floors. Almost no furniture. She shuddered.
No, her sights were set higher than a hovel.
“There’s the station.” He pointed to the cabin in a sunny clearing. The road ran straight past the place. In ten minutes, they pulled up before the yard. Horses whinnied a greeting.
A tall dark-haired man stepped to the porch. “How do,” he called.
Jace jumped down. “Jace Reynolds here.” He held out a hand.
“I recall you. You were here with Chet Berch. Good man he was. Sorry to hear of his passing.”
