Hat in place, apron hung up, and gloves on, Hazel accepted Wade’s help into the wagon. He held onto her hand half a moment longer than necessary, and when she met his eyes, he dropped it quickly and hurried back around to his side of the wagon.
If she didn’t think it was the most absurd idea she’d ever had, Hazel would have thought he wasafraidof her.
But watching the way in which he deftly handled the horses, the way she could see his muscles straining even through his shirt sleeves, and the strong set of his jaw, she thought there couldn’t possibly be a thing in this world that scared Wade Pierce. Especially not a woman like her.
When they passed the entrance to the next ranch, their closest neighbor to the south, Hazel turned to Wade. “Would you like to stop by there on our return home? To ask if they’ve had any problems?”
His jaw clenched even harder. “Perhaps.”
Well, that was an odd reaction, especially considering that speaking with the nearby ranchers was his idea. He said nothing else, and the silence stretched between them.
Unable to take any more, Hazel tried another approach. “You said there was a deputy sheriff in Crest Stone. What happened to the real sheriff?”
“His office is in Cañon City.”
Hazel waited for more, but Wade didn’t elaborate. She sighed quietly. She’d worked so hard to get him to finally trust her enough to do more than give orders and one-word answers to questions. Perhaps the problems at the ranch were weighing too heavily on his mind for conversation just now. Yes, that had to be it.
So she contented herself with watching the scenery as they passed. The mountains off to the west, the Sangre de Cristo range, were so tall that a few of the peaks still held snow. Hazel couldn’t help but wonder if any human being had ventured to the tops of those mountains. Was such a thing possible? She tried to imagine herself climbing up one of those snowcapped mountains, trudging higher and higher until she could touch the sky herself.
No, she decided, although the image in her mind was quite fascinating. She was content to remain in the valley and admire their beauty from here. Although perhaps she wouldn’t mind a jaunt at least part of the way up . . .
When they arrived in town, Wade maneuvered the wagon behind another waiting outside the mercantile. He helped Hazel down, but instead of following her to the door, he returned to his seat in the wagon.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked, pausing with her hand on the doorknob.
Wade shook his head. “You go on—add anything you need to my account. I need to take care of my business. I’ll return for you shortly.”
And before Hazel could say another word, the wagon began rolling down the dirt road. She watched him go, disappointment prickling under her skin. She didn’t know why it bothered her so that he didn’t wish to visit the mercantile with her. After all, it was a more efficient use of their time if he visited the post office and the deputy sheriff while she took care of the shopping.
Perhaps it wouldn’t bother her so much if he’d conversed with her more on the way here. Right now, she felt as if she were some burden he had to tote around, a weight on shoulders that were already heavy with worries.
Hazel pressed her mouth into a line and pushed back her shoulders. It was no use at all thinking that way. She would ask him later what was on his mind. Right now, she needed to think through everything she might need in the coming weeks. Who knew when Wade might offer to take her into town again? She was thankful for this excursion, although she almost wished it had been a Sunday, so she might have attended services too.
Inside the shop, shelf after shelf of every product a person could want waited for her. Hazel stood a moment, trying to take it all in. In Boston, there was a shop for everything. One for tools, one for personal items, one for hats, one for dresses, one for trinkets and gifts—but here, it was as if all of those stores had been shoved into one.
Hazel wandered the short aisles made by the shelving units, marveling at every little thing that had found its way across the plains and to this little store in Colorado. Her curiosity finally satisfied, she made her way to the counter where a friendly looking woman was speaking with another customer.
The woman behind the counter, petite with hair the color of wheat and radiant blue eye, glanced away from the other customer and greeted Hazel with a welcoming smile. “Good morning. I’m Mrs. Caroline Drexel. Are you in search of something in particular?”
Hazel returned her smile without thinking. Something about the other woman’s warm words set her at ease immediately. “I have a few things I need to purchase.” She paused, realizing she hadn’t introduced herself. “I’m Mrs. Hazel Pierce. I’m recently arrived from Boston.”
“Boston!” Mrs. Drexel gave her a wide smile. “Why, I come from Boston also. How nice to meet someone from home.”
Given Mrs. Drexel’s finely-formed words and regal bearing, Hazel doubted they would have ever met back in Boston. How interesting that here, far away in Colorado, things such as family name and social status mattered not at all. She and Mrs. Drexel could speak as friends, whereas back at home, Hazel wouldn’t have dared utter a word to her if she’d seen her on the street. “We are quite a long way from Boston,” she said.
“Pierce?” The other customer, a woman with darker blonde hair and storm-colored eyes, tilted her head as she examined Hazel. “Are you relation to the Mr. Pierce who own a ranch some miles north of town?”
“Yes,” Hazel said. “He is my husband.”When he deigns to speak to me, she thought, still irritated at his manner on their ride here.
“I didn’t know Mr. Pierce had married. Please accept my congratulations,” the woman with the gray-blue eyes said. “I’m Maggie Trenton, your neighbor to the south. My husband and I own the Aspen Ridge Ranch.”
“What a lovely name for a ranch! I’m so happy to meet you.” Hazel wondered briefly if Wade had named his ranch. If he had, he hadn’t shared the moniker with her. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any trouble on your land lately?”
“What sort of trouble?” Mrs. Trenton asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Hazel chewed her lip, hesitating a moment. Surely Wade wouldn’t be upset if she told Mrs. Trenton and Mrs. Drexel about what had been happening. After all, he’d gone off to visit the deputy sheriff, and he’d mentioned speaking to their neighbors. Hazel surged ahead. “Fires. Broken fences. I believe Wade mentioned a gate being left open.”
Both women’s eyes widened as Hazel spoke.
