He didn’t set out the checkers again. Instead, he settled back to study her.
Would he say something about their future? Theirsharedfuture?
“Eddie’s a great little boy. Eager to learn. He’ll do well on the ranch.”
Her tea was gone. The cookies were eaten. She didn’t want to talk about Eddie’s opportunities.
Jace drained his cup and pushed to his feet. “I’ll bid you good night.” He carried his cup to the kitchen. “Be sure to bar the door.” And like that, he was gone.
Annoyance scratching like a hot burr under her shirtwaist, she followed him to the door. He had rushed away like he regretted any shared kisses. And added a warning that reminded her of Al as if to keep her wary.
Was he doing it all on purpose? Trying to discourage her? Was it his way of warning her things hadn’t changed in his mind?
Chapter Seventeen
Jace hurried across to the bunkhouse, his thoughts whirling around him like a winter storm. He wanted to stay with Dianne and Eddie. But could he have any part of this ranch? It didn’t seem possible. Or did he mean it didn’t seem right? Not after what he’d done.
The next few days, he threw himself into work. Cleaning up the debris from the fire was a bigger job than he expected. Even with Cal and Lee helping. And Eddie, of course. He couldn’t keep the cowboys here much longer. Someone needed to check on the herd to make sure they didn’t wander too far back into the mountains.
But day after day, he didn’t send them away, and they didn’t ask to go. Maybe because of the excellent food Dianne fed them.
This morning, it had been thick slices of bread she’d baked yesterday, fried potatoes, heaps of eggs—thanks to the flock of chickens she tended so well. Some mornings, they had rhubarb pie. Now, that was an excellent way to start the day. Lunchtime had been hearty soup, more bread, and a pudding.
The thought of food, served by a smiling Dianne, so occupied his thoughts he stared at the wet spot on his hand. Where had thatcome from? Something stung his cheek, and he looked up. Dark clouds twisted overhead. A cold wind blasted against his skin.
“Head for cover.” He grabbed Eddie and ran for the house.
Cal and Lee unhitched the horses and led them away. They’d run for the bunkhouse as soon as the animals were in the pen.
Eddie laughed as Jace half dragged him across the yard, Skip bounding at their heels. Jace stopped under the veranda roof and turned. The rain spattered down, not yet coming in the torrents as it would in a few minutes.
In the distance, on a high ridge, something caught his eye. He squinted. Was it a moose or a man on horseback? Was Al still lurking nearby?
Jace gritted his teeth. He didn’t care for the man’s presence, but it gave him a reasonable excuse for staying at the ranch—one besides the longing of his wayward heart.
“Mama, it raining.”
She came to the door. “So I see. Looks like you got a little wet.” A few spots dotted the boy’s shirt. Not enough to qualify as even damp.
Eddie leaned back on his heels. “It’s nothin’.”
Jace snorted a laugh. They were his exact words when he pulled a sliver from his thumb, and Eddie’s eyes had filled with sympathetic tears. He answered Dianne’s questioning look with a slight nod to inform her that he’d tell her later.
Eddie had thudded upstairs as fast as his little legs would go and returned more slowly and cautiously. “See what I gots?” He held half a dozen carved animals. “Gramps made them. I show you.”
Jace followed him to the table where Eddie lined up the animals. “Dog. Cat. Horse. Lamb. Baaa.” He looked up at Jace, waiting for his response and seemed pleased when Jace chuckled.
“Cow. Moo. Chicken.” He made a screeching sound such as the birds gave when Eddie tried to pick them up, which brought a roar of laughter from Jace.
“You play.” Eddie moved the horse and cow in Jace’s direction and hesitated before he allowed him to have the lamb.
Unsure what the game entailed, Jace waited and followed Eddie’s lead. The animals moved along an imaginary road and stopped to eat imaginary food. Sometimes, they talked to imaginary people.
It was quite fascinating and reminded him of his sisters’ playing make-believe with their dolls.
Aware of Dianne puttering in the kitchen, he shifted to watch her as well as participate in the game. She rolled out dough and sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon. Rolled the dough into a log, cut it into individual pieces, and set them to rise.
“Cinnamon buns. I haven’t had them since we headed west. Ma used to make them often.”
