Chapter Eighteen
Hazel felt as if shewere wading through molasses. She’d cried until she had no more tears, and then she’d dutifully packed her few belongings and laid down. She had stared, dry-eyed, at the ceiling for most of the night. Before sunrise, she’d risen and gone downstairs as usual, started a fire, fed the chickens, collected eggs, milked the cows, and cooked breakfast.
And then she’d slipped upstairs without a word. She ought to say goodbye to the ranch hands and to dear Lars, but she couldn’t bring herself to say such final words.
Not when she would be leaving her heart here.
Now she sat on her bed, carpetbag packed, and waiting for Wade’s summons.
Her thoughts were the same as they had been all night. She waffled between despair and disbelief. Despite all she’d done, all she’d felt, and all she had thought Wade might have begun to feel too, had it all truly been a farce? Was he pretending when he’d looked into her eyes and caressed her cheek? How else could he say such cruel things to her?
Or was it fear that drove him to end everything? He’d said at first that he couldn’t keep her safe and that’s why he wanted her to leave. And when she’d refused, that’s when he’d gone cold and said all of those terrible things. Had he said them to convince her to leave?
And how could she know the truth?
Not that she had much choice in the matter. His knock came quickly, and she rose, gathering her hat, gloves, and carpetbag.
He helped her into the wagon without letting his hand linger on hers. She glanced around her as he crossed to the other side of the wagon. A couple of the men looked at her curiously, and she suspected Wade hadn’t shared her departure with any of them.
She tried to memorize her surroundings. If she was to go to Boston, she wanted to remember every inch of this place, from the wooden porch on the house to the way the mountains touched the sky to the commotion the chickens made near the barn.
Wade remained silent throughout the drive to town. All the while, Hazel debated what she could say to possibly discover the truth.
He drove them straight to the railroad depot, where he purchased one ticket all the way through to Boston and handed it to her when he returned to the wagon.
Hazel didn’t know what to say. She placed the ticket in her reticule as she tried to hold back her growing disappointment. She’d half expected him to change his mind on the way to town. But he hadn’t, and now he was about to leave her here. “What am I to do until six o’clock?”
Wade looked confused for a moment, as if he hadn’t thought about that. “I suppose you could wait at the hotel. Would you like me to drive you up there?”
“I’m certain I can manage on my own,” she said primly as she began to climb down from the wagon. He offered her a hand, but Hazel ignored it.
She reached the ground with only a tiny stumble.
Wade handed her the carpetbag, and she took it, waiting for him to say something—anything—that would let her know his true feelings.
But his face remained as even and impenetrable as it had been when she’d first met him.
“Wade—” Her voice cracked, and she paused, not certain what she wanted to tell him.
