The weight in her chest eased. She’d never had a man put her feelings or her comfort above his own desires.
Jonah made her feel cherished and respected. If only it would last.
With a tenderness that made her heart ache, he lifted her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. The contact sent a tingle racing up her arm, spreading through her body like wildfire. Then he released her and walked to the stack of firewood, where he gathered an armload.
In that moment, a part of her wished he hadn't been so noble, that he'd thrown aside his caution and kissed her like she knew he wanted to. Like she wanted him to, despite her fears.
But as Jonah straightened, the logs cradled against his chest, reality crashed around her. She couldn't afford to get lost in foolish fantasies, not when she had Anna to think about. She had plans, dreams that were finally within reach. Dreams that didn't include getting tangled up with a rancher, no matter how kind and handsome he might be at first.
He would change. Right? She’d seen no sign of it yet, but surely she would.
CHAPTER 8
Something tugged Patience from sleep, and she squinted in the dim light of her room. Had she overslept? Sunlight shone through the window curtains.
A muffled shout sounded from the main room. As she pushed herself up on one elbow, the words became clearer.
“—should’ve sent me instead! I would’ve made sure it got done right.” That was Miles’ voice, loud and angry. She’d never heard him like that before. It shouldn’t surprise her though. He was a man, after all.
"You think you're the only one who can handle stock?" Jericho's tone matched his brother's. "I could've done it if you'd let me."
Gilead said something too low for her to make out.
Patience slipped out of bed and padded to the door, cracking it open to peer into the main room. The three brothers stood in a tense triangle, faces flushed and eyes flashing.
"I'm the oldest. It's my responsibility to take care of things." Jericho spoke through gritted teeth.
"And look how well that turned out," Miles shot back. "Half the herd scattered to God knows where."
“It wasn’t half the herd,” Jericho growled.
The front door opened, and all three men turned to see who would enter. Jonah stepped inside.
Miles waved a hand at him. “And that’s another problem around here.”
Jonah’s head jerked back, his eyes widening.
Miles pushed on. “How could you leave our brother in Missoula Mills? You were in such an all-fired hurry to get back here, as if that redhead couldn’t have waited a couple more days. But you just got all swoony-eyed over her and didn't care a wit about Sampson. For all we know, he might be dead now. Killed in a barroom fight or who knows what else."
Jonah’s wide eyes had narrowed, and he stood by the closed door, his hands braced at his hips. When Miles finished, Jonah strode forward, his long legs bringing him up close to his youngest brother. “You’d better keep a civil tongue, boy. If you ever speak of Patsy as anything other than Miss Whitman, I’ll take you out back and teach you some manners with Dat’s belt just like I used to. And Sampson’s fine. He’s got more sense than you, that’s sure an’ certain.”
Patience eased out a breath. Jonah had stood up for her. She might not like the raised voices, but at least his had been raised in her defense. That didn’t usually happen.
Gilead moved toward them. "Settle down, all o’ ya. We’ve got strays to find."
Jericho raked a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. His gaze flicked to the side and locked with Patience's through the crack in the door. A flash of annoyance touched his eyes before he turned away. "I'll head out now, see if I can't round up them strays afore they wander too far off.” He reached for his hat.
"I'll come with you," Gilead said.
"No." Jericho’s reply brooked no argument. "You go with Miles and Sean to work the two-year-olds. Jude needs Jonahtoday. I'll manage on my own." He strode out, letting the door bang shut behind him.
Miles kicked at a chair leg, muttering under his breath. Gilead just sighed, suddenly looking much older than his young years. He was younger than Patience, she was almost sure of it.
As the men turned and left the cabin, she eased her door closed. By the time she’d dressed and pinned up her hair, the knot in her middle had almost eased. That argument felt too much like how her father used to speak to people—her especially. Always berating.
Then with Michael. He wasn’t always cross, mostly just when he’d started drinking for the day. Drinking and gambling went together, so there was rarely a day he didn’t imbibe.
She let out a sigh and stepped from her chamber into the main room. Dinah and Lillian worked near the cookstove.
