“Maybe tomorrow.” He gulped his coffee as if he had to finish it in one swallow.
“The man you chased off—Al, was it?” She didn’t need his nod to know the answer. “What if he comes back?”
The thump of his cup on the table rattled her own. “Dianne, you are going to have to learn to manage on your own. There’s a handgun on top of the cupboard by the door.”
She slammed her cup down as hard as he slammed his. “I have never fired a gun.” Nor did she want to. “I can’t run a ranch. Not that there’s anything to take care of. There are no cowboys. The barn is gone. I saw a cow. At least, I think she’s a cow. I don’t know if she’s for milk or not. Chickens squawked behind the bunkhouse. I suppose someone feeds them and gets their eggs.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you telling me you can’t gather the eggs?”
“Jace, I lived in the city. My eggs came from the store.”
He expelled air in exasperation. “Guessing you can’t milk acow either. Good thing her calf is still with her, or she’d be dried up.”
“Dried up? Would she blow away?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” He lifted his hands in a gesture of frustration.
“I guess the place is going to fall into rack and ruin. Perhaps you could arrange for supplies to be delivered when you go to town, or we’ll starve. Oh, wait, the cowboys will take me to town. The cowboys in the vacant bunkhouse.” Her frustration was at least as great as his, if not ten times greater. “That is if this Al person doesn’t murder us in our beds.” There was nothing pretend about the shiver that raced through her.
Jace had taken another cookie, and it crumbled in his fist. “You leave me no choice. I will stay until the boys are back.” He leaned forward, his breath hot against her cheeks. “In that time, you will learn to take care of the chickens and milk the cow.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”For now.
“I’ll move my things to the bunkhouse.”
She rose to follow him, but when she started to protest and ask how that would protect them, he shot her a hard look.
“I can’t stay in the house. I don’t want to be roped into a forced marriage. Skip will sleep on the porch. He’ll alert everyone if there’s an intruder.”
Except Al wasn’t an intruder. Up until a few hours ago, he’d been part of the ranch. She kept the protest to herself.
He stopped at the door and faced her. “As soon as Cal and Lee return, I am leaving. I have a wagon to return. Or have you forgotten?”
“Nope.” But she’d say nothing more at this time. She’d won a little victory. And she’d win the next round, too. Eventually, Jace would accept that he belonged here.
He scowled at her. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I am not going to change my mind. It’s like my pa said.” His gaze shifted as if he saw something in his past. “Like the day wewent to a fair in town. Pa was showing his wheat and hay. Ma entered her cake and bread. I didn’t put in anything, but there was a wild calf riding for those under twelve. I didn’t ask permission to enter because I knew Pa would say no. He didn’t believe in taking risks.” A grin that looked more like a grimace crossed his face. “I was the contest winner. I proved how brave I was.” The way his shoulders sagged informed anyone watching that it hadn’t had the desired result.
Jace scrubbed the back of his neck. “Pa said he expected me to be more responsible. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Was it because I’d entered the contest or because I did it without their permission? He said”—Jace swallowed loudly—“‘The reward for a risk should be more than a sack of candy. Otherwise, it was simply puffing up one’s chest like a silly strutting bird.’” His shoulders slumped, and his chest deflated. “I was still puffing out my chest about the grizzly hunt. I should have listened to Chet.” Before she could respond, he rushed from the house.
She watched him stomp through the ashes of the barn. What his pa had said about a puffed-out chest didn’t apply to his refusal to stay at the ranch, but it did reveal the depth of guilt over Chet’s death. As long as he carried that weight of guilt, he was not going to change his mind about staying. Not that she’d given up.
“I will not stay here alone!” Her protest wouldn’t reach him, but the words filled her with courage. Yes, it might be stubborn courage, but it was all she had. That, her cooking, and prayer.
Chapter Eleven
With every puff of sharp-scented ash that Jace’s boots lifted from the ground, his anger and guilt grew. Pa was right in saying Jace was reckless. Reckless and stubborn. A lethal combination. He hadn’t been needed on the bear hunt. In fact, none of them had. The rogue bear was found dead by a stream up the mountainside. It had no teeth and showed signs of starvation, which explained why it had taken to raiding homesites.
He couldn’t wait to return to the hunting cabin and escape the constant reminder of Chet. Yeah, Chet’s memory was in every corner of the cabin but not with the stinging power these ashes held. He needed some men cleaning up the mess.
Oh, wait. He wasn’t going to be here. Dianne would have to take care of it.
Maybe if he poked through the ashes, he’d find something of value. A wheeled cart from behind the bunkhouse creaked and groaned as Jace pushed it over. A shovel stood nearby as if one of the men had tossed dirt on flames.
His teeth grinding, Jace dug into a pile of debris, scooped it into the hand wagon, and flattened it to expose what it contained—nothing but burnt wood and dry ashes. Shovelful aftershovelful landed in the wagon. In none of them did he discover anything worth salvaging. His insides burned hotter with every scoop. This barn had been Chet’s pride and joy. He’d hired local boys to help him put it up, one log after another. Later, sawn lumber had been used to build an addition on one side.
