Cade raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought of Horace as the sort to be tied down.
The man chuckled. “That surprises you, but I was. Not for long, mind you, and that was my fault. I’m a pig-headed man who refuses to see any way but my own. And that doesn’t work so well when you’re trying to make a life with someone else.” He looked away, out across the land to the north. “Sometimes I think back on that and regret it.”
Cade swallowed a gulp of hot coffee, the liquid burning the inside of his mouth. It was just as well, as the sting took away any reflection on Horace’s words.
“Don’t you do anything you’ll regret, you hear me?” Horace eyed him, more serious than Cade had ever seen him.
“I do,” he said. It was too late, but Horace didn’t know that. Cade wouldn’t be surprised to walk into the house later and see Jolie packing her things.
It was just as well, he told himself as they got back to work. He’d never be able to truly bury Lucas if she kept bringing him up. He could move on with this ranch, building it up in a way that would have made his brother proud.
Alone.
He shook that thought from his head and concentrated on holding a piece of wood steady for Neil.
About an hour later, he caught sight of Jolie walking toward the creek, water bucket in hand. She had probably set out bread and cheese for them again, in case they were hungry. He would miss that thoughtfulness. The meals, the coffee, the companionship. His heart ached, and he buried the feelings by slamming a hammer down again and again on an unsuspecting nail.
“Mr. Harris!” A woman’s voice called for him from somewhere near the road.
“Who is that?” Neil asked as Cade stepped outside.
“It doesn’t sound like Jolie,” he said. And it wasn’t.
Hannah Bennett sat astride a horse, her skirts disheveled and her hair falling from its pins. She wore no hat or gloves and her coat hung wide open.
Something was wrong. That much Cade could tell before she even spoke. “Mrs. Bennett, what is it?”
“You must come.Please. It’s Mr. Sawyer. I’m afraid he’s hurt, and the other men aren’t— Please come!” Her eyes were wide as she spoke, and the horse danced as if agitated.
For half a second, Cade hesitated. He would never pause to help a woman in need, and he certainly would do anything for Sawyer. But Jolie’s theory about Mrs. Bennett’s husband being responsible for Lucas’s murder played through his mind.
It was ridiculous, of course. She had no real evidence, only a strong desire to find the responsible party and to make Cade agree that she’d been right in doing so.
Besides, Mrs. Bennett was nearly frantic with worry. He couldn’t send her off like that.
“We can come too,” Horace said. “In the event this fellow needs more help.”
Mrs. Bennett glanced at him a moment, as if she were surprised by his words, and then nodded. “Yes, that would be good. I don’t know what he’s done, but it’s bad, and oh—I’m so worried!”
“I’ll be just a moment. You go on, and I’ll catch up,” Cade said over his shoulder as he ran for the house. Despite the urgency of the matter, he couldn’t take off without letting Jolie know of his whereabouts.
In the bedroom, he nearly tripped over Jolie’s open trunk. Its presence in the middle of the floor, with a few of her bits of clothing in it, nearly ripped him apart. But he couldn’t worry about that right now. He found what he was looking for—Jolie’s sketchbook and the nub of a pencil. He ripped a page from it and brought it back out to the table to scribble a note.
And then he left to saddle Old Brown, praying Sawyer wasn’t too hurt.
Chapter Twenty-three
Joliestaredatthenote in dismay.
Sawyer’s hurt. Gone with the men to help.
That was it. She shrugged off the brevity and general coldness of the note. It was far more worrisome that he’d gone to Mr. Sawyer’s ranch. At least he wasn’t alone if he’d brought Neil and Horace with him.
And how he’d known to go was a mystery too. But if Mr. Sawyer was supposedly hurt, it wouldn’t have been him who had notified Cade and asked for help. Which meant someone else had come. She glanced up at what was supposed to be the parlor. Cade’s coat, hat, and gun belt were missing from their hooks, and she sighed in relief. At least he was armed if he ran into trouble.
But she couldn’t sit around here and wait, especially when he might be walking right into danger.
Jolie threw her coat back on and left the water she’d gone to fetch. She paused a moment outside, considering her options. There were no horses—the men had taken them all to ride to the Sawyer ranch. She had no other means of getting there than to walk.
