Legally, the cows on the ranch were his, but he seemed unwilling to accept that. Strange.
“You gots horses?”
“The ranch does.”
“And chickens?” Eddie squirmed from Dianne’s knees to lean on the table, quivering with excitement at the idea.
Jace nodded.
“Doggie?”
“One, yes. He’s black and friendly.”
“What his name?”
Dianne could best describe Jace’s look as reluctant.
“Skip.”
“Mama, he gots a dog named Skip.” Big blue eyes, so much like his father’s, stared at her.
“I heard.” Patience intertwined with wariness. Would they even be going to the ranch now that Chet was dead? Jace said she could have the place, but she didn’t want a ranch—only a home. But if Jace wasn’t going to take ownership, would he sell it? And then where would she go?
She must persuade him to change his mind.
Jace scraped his bowl clean.Why didn’t Dianne stop her son from asking so many questions? Though by rights, he should call her Mrs. White. She’d lost her husband and come all this way seeking a home. He almost felt sorry for her.
“You gots a kitty?” Seemed the boy meant to assess every animal on the place.
Should he tell him of the mice in the loft? The wild animals in the woods? Jace managed not to smile at the idea. “We do have cats.” To end this conversation, he gathered the dirty dishes and carried them to the washbasin.
“I’ll do that.” Mrs. White or Dianne—what was he to call her and, more importantly, how was he to think of her?—hurried to his side.
“It’s eight items counting the pot I heated the beans in and the spoon I stirred them with. I think I can manage.”
She jerked back.
Had he sounded rude? He didn’t mean to. “You can dry if you wish.” He flicked a worn bit of linen towel to her.
Neither of them spoke, and Eddie amused himself by digging his thumbnail along the edge of the table.
Jace didn’t intend to return to the ranch. And the woman was right in thinking she couldn’t manage it. The best thing would be for her to change her plans. Find a home somewhere else.
“Perhaps you should go live with your parents. Surely, they’d give you a home.”
The bowl she dried hung midair. The towel drooped from her hand. She stared at the stove, though he guessed she wasn’t seeing it. Finally, she sighed. “My parents are both dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Husband and parents gone. Seemingly without leaving her provided for.
“Siblings?”
“None.” She dried the bowl and set it in the cupboard and then faced him, her eyes burning with emotion. “If you’re hoping to find another place for me to live, I’ll tell you right here and now, there isn’t such a place. Why else would I make a long weary trip west and travel on a very uncomfortable stagecoach with the plan to throw myself on the kindness of a man I only met once, years ago?” She took the three spoons and dried them with undue vigor.
He waited, silent and wary. Thankfully, the ax rested against the chair she sat on while she ate.
When she seemed calmed down, he offered another solution. “Now that you’re in the West, it would be easy to find a home. Lots of men are willing and eager to welcome a woman. Marriage included.”
The look she shot him iced his skin.
