“Oh, certainly,” Max said quickly. “We are, of course we are. I was just thinking that…”
Jane arched an eyebrow, waiting. “Yes? Thinking that…?”
“Well, that it’s probably harder on you. You’re left behind, aren’t you? Today you’re with me. Yesterday it was Jem. Before that it?—”
“I understand what you’re saying, Max, but I don’t agree with you. It’s harder on my husband. He can’t stay here all the time, and it tears a strip off his skin when he has to go.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” He took off his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets. “It must be a hell of thing to have your brothers turning on you the way his are. Jessop and Jake were talking about it the other day, and they couldn’t imagine it until Jem started waxin’ poetical about Renee. Still, they didn’t really turn on him.”
“No, they wouldn’t do that.” Jane turned her back on the stove and began emptying her apron pocket. She tossed the pins into a basket on the table. The ones that missed, Max picked up and threw in. “Did I hear Morgan right this morning? They were riding out past Blue Valley?”
“Yep. Piney Hill. Settler’s Ridge. Leastways, the boss and Jake were going that way. Jem and Jessop were riding up to Hickory Lake.”
“Then it will be dark before they get back.”
“For the boss and Jake, sure. Jem and Jessop should come riding in before then. You thinkin’ about supper?”
“Yes,” she said, although she was thinking nothing of the kind. “I was wondering how many would be here for supper.”
“I’ve got my chores done. I could help.”
“It would be lovely to have company.” When Max started to unbutton his coat, Jane stopped him. “No, not yet. I need eggs. Six if you can encourage the hens to give them up. And you will probably want to put your gloves back on. Not one of them was kind to me this morning.”
“Good idea. And the next time you go outside, wear your coat.”
Jane accepted the tit for tat and waved him off. While he was gone, she folded the sheets and clothes and carried them to the bedroom. Max was not back when she returned. Supposing the hens were not being kind to him either, Jane put the basket of clothespins in the pantry and selected the items she needed to make Eggs Susette.
She dropped six fist-sized potatoes in the sink and placed everything else on the table. Watching for Max out the kitchen window, she scrubbed the potatoes with a brush and then pierced each one a few times with a fork before placing them in the oven. Afterward, she sat at the table with her cookbook to review the recipe. Realizing she was going to need two more eggs, she stepped onto the back porch to call for Max.
She had no opportunity to say his name. A gloved hand arrested her speech as soon as she opened her mouth. At the same time, an arm circled her waist and pulled her back hard enough to make her lose her balance. Her assailant supported her. She stared at the bell she was supposed to ring. It hung in its proper place, and it was well outside her reach.
“He’ll be coming along directly, Mrs. Longstreet. Don’t concern yourself that he won’t.”
The words were directed into her ear. The tone was calm; the breath was warm. It surprised her that she recognized the voice because their only exchange had been so brief, but she was confident that it was Gideon Welling who was holding her.
Jane made no attempt to struggle. She held herself still but not relaxed. He was holding her close enough to feel her tension.
“You know there’s no point in screaming,” he said. “You’re not hurt and no one except for that fellow in your henhouse is going to hear you. He’d probably want to come after you, and that would surely get him pain for his trouble. That sound right to you?”
Jane drew in her lips so they would not rub against the palm of his leather glove. Her nod was almost infinitesimal.
“Good,” he said pleasantly. “I’m going to take my hand away, step to the side, and you’re going to go back in the house. I’m going to be right behind you. We’re clear on that?”
When she nodded again, he did exactly as he said. So did she. Immediately upon entering the kitchen, her eyes darted to the gun rack. She did not realize that some small movement of her head had given away the direction of her glance until Gideon spoke.
“That’s a fine Remington you’ve got there. Good for long range. Go on, you have a seat at the table while I remove temptation. That’s right. Over there. All the way at the other end.” Gideon removed the Remington rifle from the rack, examined it, and then did the same with the Winchester. “Another fine piece here. There’s an empty space. That must be what Morgan’s carrying. I don’t see him riding out without one.”
He did not seem to expect a response, so Jane said nothing.
“You stay where you are, ma’am, while I attend to these.”
His confidence that she would do as he wanted made Jane set her jaw, and yet she knew it was not misplaced. What were her choices when Max’s situation was unknown to her, and she had no means of escape? She watched him disappear with the rifles and listened to his footsteps for some indication of where he was taking them. It was a good strategy on his part, she thought. She would never find them quickly enough to use them.
On the other hand, he had left her alone in the kitchen where there was an astonishing array of weapons. Jane chose her sharpest paring knife and put it in her apron pocket. Even if he found it, it was easily something she might have been carrying in her apron before he accosted her. Jane made certain she was sitting exactly as he left her when he returned to the kitchen. Even the cookbook was still open in front of her.
Gideon sniffed the air. “What’s in the oven?”
“Potatoes.” Jane felt absurdly delighted that he appeared to be disappointed.
