Levi moved around the table to the chair beside her and reached for her hand, but the second he did, she stood quickly, picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen.
His forehead crinkled. Was she angry at him for leaving the saw within reach of the children? “Rebecca?” he asked as he stood up slowly.
She set the plate down on the countertop and stood there a moment. Levi wanted to move toward her, to reach for her hand again, but something inside told him not to. He’d never seen Rebecca angry, and he had a feeling he was about to. So he stood where he was and waited for her to answer.
Finally, after what felt like hours, she turned around and fixed him with a gaze so hard he would have guessed he’d done something much worse than leave a saw out.
He was wondering if he should simply apologize when she reached into the pocket of her blue-sprigged skirt and withdrew an old, crumpled slip of paper. Silently, she held it out to him, and as soon as his fingers touched it, he knew what it was.
He opened it anyway, his heart falling faster than a shooting star. The lines of faded pencil script stared back at him.Project ongoing. Location not confirmed but confidence high. LW. He tried to keep a poker face when he looked up at her. “Where did you find this?”
“In the pocket of your coat.”
Of course. He’d shoved it in there some time ago and never taken it out. He ought to have torn it into pieces at the depot and disposed of it then. It was sloppy to forget about it, and he ought to be glad that Rebecca had found it instead of someone who would have shot him dead upon reading it.
He folded the paper, vowing to toss it into the fire, and set it on the table beside him.
“What is it? What does it mean? You’re LW, clearly, but what is this project?” Rebecca’s arms were crossed, and she looked defensive. Almost as if she were afraid of him.
Levi pressed his fingers against his forehead and rubbed, as if that could erase the fact that she was asking questions about something that could get her killed. He closed his eyes and tried to think.
“Please don’t lie to me.” Her voice was strong, as if she dared him to even attempt to make something up, but he could hear the slight tremor beneath it.
Levi shook his head. “I won’t.” At this point, did it matter if she knew about Prather? Because if Prather had discovered Levi was the one who had chased him in town, and was the onewho had sent someone to lurk about the farm, Rebecca and the children were already in danger whether they knew or not.
He dropped his hand and looked her straight in the eye, trying to find the words. Instead, he gestured for her to follow him as he crossed the room to the desk. His hand hovered over the top drawer for a moment as he reconsidered.
No, he thought the second he caught Rebecca’s curious—but still angry—gaze. She was just as beautiful when she was mad at him as she was when she smiled. But, he decided, it was much nicer when she smiled at him—whenhewas the reason for her smile.
Without hesitating again, he reached down and yanked open the middle drawer. After moving aside some handkerchiefs and other items, he pulled out an old newspaper wrapped around the one item that could identify him as anything but a farmer.
He closed the drawer and straightened, holding the small package out to Rebecca. “Open it.”
She frowned at him, clearly confused, but she took the wrapped paper from his hand. Setting it on the desk, she slowly pulled back the newspaper to reveal a silver star surrounded by a circle with wording he’d run his finger over hundreds of times. For the first year or so, it hadn’t seemed real to him, and he would sit and stare at the badge as if it were made of dreams and wishes and would simply disappear one day.
But it hadn’t, and now he was here in this valley, pretending to be a farmer to the woman he’d married.
“United States Marshal,” she whispered, reading the words printed around the edge. She swallowed visibly before looking back up at him. “This belongs to you?”
“It does.” He clasped his hands behind him. He’d always been proud of his work, but he wasn’t feeling particularly proud of keeping it from Rebecca.
“And this isn’t a keepsake from a former position?”
“It isn’t.”
She ran a finger over the metal before bringing her gaze back up to his. “I’m sure you have a good reason for hiding this from me. I’m just not yet certain if I want to hear it.”
It would have hurt less if she’d hit him or screamed at him. This quiet acknowledgment of betrayal was so much worse. “I’ll explain it all to you if you’d like to know,” he heard himself say.
She nodded. And then she walked away.
