“You look as if tea and a biscuit would do you some good.” Without waiting for an invitation, she moved to his desk and set a plate and steaming mug down next to the ledger.
The scent of the tea reached his nose. Chamomile. “That’s my favorite,” he said without thinking.
“I found some and thought you must like it—or why else keep it.” Hazel tilted her head. “It took me by surprise, though. I assumed all cowboys drank was whiskey and bitter coffee.”
Wade smiled at her comment, despite the heavy weariness that sat upon his shoulders. “I’ve met a fair few who subsist on coffee and whiskey. But my mother was partial to chamomile tea, and I grew up drinking it.” He took a sip to force himself to stop talking. Why he’d carried on like that, Wade didn’t know.
Family wasn’t something he discussed. Ever.
“Is the sugar all right? If you prefer it without, I’ll drink that cup and make you another one,” Hazel said.
“It’s good,” he replied as he set the mug down. “Thank you.”
“And I’m sorry there are no preserves for the biscuit. We finished what was in the pantry this morning. I’ll use that jar to make some more. In Boston, I used to make jars upon jars of preserves of all kinds. My mother and sister would buy the bruised and damaged fruit and bring it home, and we’d enjoy jarred preserves all winter long.” She spoke with a wistful smile, and her eyes were focused somewhere over Wade’s shoulder, as if she were lost in memories of the past.
Do you miss home?The question was on the tip of his tongue, but Wade kept it where it was. He bit into the biscuit and tried not to wonder about Hazel’s family, her life back in Boston, and why she’d agreed to come all the way out here to marry him.
Her eyes drifted toward him, and she smiled as she watched him enjoy the food she’d made. The biscuit caught in Wade’s throat. He’d never felt so conscious of himself eating. He swallowed hard and distracted himself by pushing the ledger book out of the way.
“Are those your accounts?” Hazel asked.
Wade nodded, still not trusting himself to speak.
She furrowed her brow as she looked at the book. “Is that what was troubling you and Lars all through dinner?”
Wade nearly choked on his tea. The hot liquid scalded the back of his throat as he swallowed it too quickly. “Were we distracted?”
Hazel lifted her eyebrows. “Neither of you hardly said a word. And that’s particularly odd for your foreman.”
Wade sat back in his chair. She was certainly observant. “Yes, we were preoccupied.”
“With the accounts?” She paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. But if you’d like someone to confide in, well . . . you can tell your wife.” Those brown eyes met his, and something inside him seemed to melt.
The ranch hands all knew. It would be only a matter of time before word got back to Hazel. He only hoped it wouldn’t scare her enough to send her running back to Boston.
“If it’s bad, you ought to know I don’t frighten easily.” She lifted her chin.
Wade nodded and sat forward. The woman had given up her home and chosen to marry him sight unseen. He doubted there was much that would scare her at all. “It’s the ranch.”
“Is it in trouble?”
He shook his head. “There have been a few . . . incidents.” He proceeded to tell her about the hay, the open gate, the broken fence, and finally the fire that had happened earlier.
“Do you think one person is causing it?” she asked.
Wade closed the ledger and rested a hand on it. “Likely a band of rustlers, after the cattle.”
Hazel’s brow furrowed, and the motion somehow made her even prettier. “Why would they want only your cattle? Wouldn’t they also be trying to steal from the other ranchers too?”
Wade couldn’t help but smile, not at the idea of rustlers, of course, but at Hazel coming to the same conclusion as Kristiansen. “Probably so. I’m thinking I ought to ride out and talk to our neighbors. See if any of them know more.” Particularly the Trentons.
Hazel nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea.” She glanced down at his mug. “Would you like more tea?”
“Please.”
She reached for his mug, and without thinking, he laid a hand on her wrist. “Thank you.” The words felt almost foreign in his mouth, but when she rewarded him with a sweet smile, Wade thought he’d like to say it again and again.
Reluctantly, he let go of her wrist, and she left the room.
