As he strode toward the house, he hoped she hadn’t been distracted with baking and forgotten the coffee. Although it wouldn’t take long to make even if she had.
He shut the door behind him, grateful for the fire that was going in the hearth of the room that served as both parlor and kitchen. Jolie, however, was nowhere in sight.
Cade crossed to the stove. She’d put on the coffeepot, at least. He grabbed a towel and lifted the lid. What liquid was left inside resembled mud. Lines of dried coffee tracked down the sides of the pot, and he could make out where it had burned on the stove. He removed the pot, which would need a serious scrubbing before it could be charged with making coffee again, and made his way to the only other room in the house.
He pressed the door to the bedroom open and found her perched on the bed, poring over a sheet of paper. “Jolie?”
She jerked her head up at the sound of her name and quickly slid the paper into her open sketchbook. “Cade!”
He glanced at the sketchbook. “What are you doing?”
“Studying a sketch I’d made.” Her cheeks went slightly pink as she stood and clutched the book to her side. “Are you finished work for the day?”
“Not yet. I came to see about that coffee you’d promised.”
“Oh, the coffee! I left it on the stove. It must be finished by now.” She moved toward the door, brushing past Cade in a hurry.
“It’s past finished,” he said as he followed her. “It boiled over and burned.”
“Oh, no!” Jolie set the sketchbook on the table and went to the pot. She lifted the lid and grimaced. “What a mess.”
Impatience unfurled inside him. “It’s freezing outside, and those men are good enough to return day after day although I can’t pay them much. They were looking forward to that coffee.”
“I know. Please tell them how sorry I am. I’ll clean this up and start a new pot right away.” She grabbed the coffeepot and a rag.
“Jolie.” Cade rubbed an exhausted hand over his face, trying to curb his irritation to convey what he needed to say in a way that wouldn’t hurt her. “Perhaps you should set the sketchbook aside when you’re working in the kitchen.”
Her face was unreadable, and he rushed on to explain. “It isn’t just the coffee. When this place is up and running—next year, God willing—I’ll have more men hired on here. It’s hard work, and we’ll have to feed them. That will be your responsibility. If the coffee burns or the roast doesn’t get cooked through, we won’t have anyone willing to stay on. Not when they could go somewhere else and get dependable meals. Do you understand?”
She chewed on her lip a moment, then nodded. “I do. Please tell the men I’ll have their coffee ready as soon as I can.” And then she dunked the coffeepot into a larger pot filled with water and set about scrubbing it with an intensity that made Cade quietly leave out the front door.
If she was angry at him, so be it. Although she was hardly as flighty as she’d been when she arrived, she still had to understand what kind of work it took to run a ranch. Better to learn now than next year, when they would stand to lose a lot more than a pot of coffee. Deep down, he feared she might not have the same ambition he did. That somehow, all of his work here would fall apart because the woman of the house couldn’t keep up with something as simple as watching a coffeepot.
No. That was fear speaking. Jolie was learning, and she wanted the ranch to succeed as much as he did. He felt guilty for even thinking otherwise. When the new pot of coffee was ready, he decided he would do whatever it took to soothe her wounded spirit.
And ideally, he thought with a smile, that would involve a good, long kiss.
Chapter Seventeen
Jolie’sthoughtsswungfromangry to guilt-ridden as she set the new pot of coffee on to boil. If only Cade would agree that finding Lucas’s murderer was important. Then she wouldn’t feel the need to hide her own thoughts and actions.
She slipped the sheet of paper Edie had given her from the sketchbook again. It wasn’t a drawing, as she’d fibbed to Cade. It was a list of names. Men who owned land south of Crest Stone. Edie had requested the list from her friend, Mrs. Gilbert, whose husband Jolie and Cade had met at the depot the other day. Mr. Gilbert was in charge of the land office and had records of all the land bought and sold in the area. Edie had conveyed the secretive nature of the plan, and Mrs. Gilbert had quietly retrieved the information for Jolie.
What she would do with this list was something she hadn’t yet figured out. But having seen that man on the white horse again had made one fact nearly certain in her mind—the murderer was not someone who had simply been passing through. Whether he owned land or was someone who worked in the area, she didn’t know. But she had to start somewhere.
Now if she could only find out whether any of the men named on this list owned a white horse.
She shoved the list back into the sketchbook before she forgot about the coffee again. It wasn’t long before it was ready, and Neil and Horace eagerly came inside with Cade to enjoy a few cups each. They were more than grateful for her efforts, and Jolie was happy to give them something in return for everything they’d done on the house and barn.
She caught Cade watching her as she spoke to the men, but she didn’t dare look at him. He’d been annoyed with her, but at least he’d told her why in a way that was much more respectful than he had before. She wasn’t angry with him—not really—but the guilt over lying about the list and continuing to investigate Lucas’s murder against his wishes sat heavy inside.
It was for the best, she told herself more than once. And he would be grateful if she was able to succeed, even if he didn’t know that yet.
She prepared a small quiet supper for the two of them while the men finished work. After seeing Neil and Horace off and washing up, Cade sat down at the table.
“This looks delicious,” he said as she set the chicken down on the table.
“Thank you.” She took her own seat as he reached over to slice the chicken.
