“I’s hungry.”
“Then beans it is.”
Dianne edged close enough to glimpse into the cupboard. It was practically empty. A few more cans all wore the same label, and half a dozen various-sized tins such as one would use to store dry goods. Would they contain flour or sugar or perhaps tea?
“How long have you been here?” Had he consumed all the supplies?
“Not long.”
“It would appear you didn’t come prepared for a lengthy stay.” She waved to indicate the cupboard.
“I can always go hunting.” He cut the lids from two cans,studied Eddie, then opened a third, and emptied the contents into a pot on the stove. “I don’t need much… just the basics.”
“The basics? What would that be?”
“Coffee, biscuits.” He tapped two canisters to suggest they held what he mentioned. “Meat which I mean to hunt.” He stirred the beans.
“That’s pretty basic for sure. How much flour do you have there?”
He lifted the lid on a bucket-sized tin. “Not as much as I’d like.”
“And coffee?”
He shook a smaller tin, and beans rattled around inside. He grunted. “Almost empty.”
“It would appear”—she spoke slowly, softly, not wanting to upset the man but wondering why he’d come out into the woods unprepared—“you came out here in a hurry.” Was he running from something or someone? Her shoulders tensed, and she found the ax again.
“Maybe I did.” He shook the coffee can again. “I might have to ride to town for supplies.”
“Perhaps you could escort me to the ranch at the same time.” Now, why had she suggested such a thing? She didn’t need his help. Well, at least not to run the house, and as to finding the place, surely any number of drivers would be willing to assist her.
“I’m done with the ranch.” The beans bubbled, and he moved the pot to the table, took three bowls from the cupboard, and tossed three spoons beside them. “Supper is served.”
“Then why don’t you sell it?” She sat on one of the creaky wooden chairs and drew Eddie to her lap. Her son reached for a bowl, but she caught his hands. “Wait for the man to sit down and for someone to say grace.”
“Yes, Mama.”
The second chair squawked as Jace lowered himself to the seat. He scooped beans into each bowl, slid one closer, and shovedthe other two toward them. Was he going to pray, or was he not inclined to do so?
His shoulders rose and fell. “Don’t look at me like I’m a heathen. My folks taught me well, and so did Chet. I’ll ask the blessing.” He bowed his head and murmured a quick prayer. “Amen.”
Jace spoke as if he asked the blessing out of habit or duty because he’d been so taught. What did he believe? Would she be any safer if he confessed to believing as she did in a God of justice and mercy who would never abandon her?
Eddie dug into the food like he hadn’t eaten for days.
Dianne took her time.
“I could sell the place.” Jace’s voice was soft and perhaps even desperate.
He answered her question. She’d wondered if he would.
“But”—he pointed his spoon toward her—“I don’t need to now that you’re here.”
“Now that I’m—oh. No. I’m not going to take the ranch. Even if I knew the first thing about running one, I have no claim to it.”
Eddie’s gaze went from her and back to Jace. “You gots cows?”
“The ranch does.”
