“When I first saw you, I wondered if you might be one of his relations.”
“I am. I’m his sister-in-law, Caroline Bennet.”
“Please accept my condolences, Mrs. Bennet. We were all shocked by the news.”
He’d assumed she was either married or widowed, and she chose not to correct him. “Thank you.”
“Mrs. Maguire was so young and such a wonderful lady,” Mr. Cook went on. “The whole town is feelin’ the loss.” He slowly shook his head. “Jackson is one of the hardest working men I’ve ever met, and now he’s left to raise those kids alone while trying to run a farm. Your visit will seem heaven sent to him, I’m sure.”
After he got over the shock.
She hadn’t sent word of her trip. Unless a member of her family had warned him, Jackson had no clue she was coming.
“How far is his farm from here?”
“’Bout twelve miles, but a woman shouldn’t travel such wild country alone.” He stuffed the rag into his pants pocket and checked his watch. “Oliver—Oliver Ames, my assistant—should be back shortly. I can have him drive you, if you like. How much luggage do you have?”
“A single trunk.”
He scrunched up his lips, throwing his mustache off balance. “Normally, I’d charge $30 for horse, carriage, and driver on a trip that distance, but taking the circumstances into account, I’ll only charge you $20.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cook. You’re very kind.” Caroline pulled the money from a hidden pouch at her waist and handed it over. Her trip had gone smoothly all the way from Pennsylvania. The only obstacle left was Jackson.
Caroline squinted into the midmorning sun as Mr. Ames and a man from the station loaded her trunk into the rented carriage. Oliver couldn’t be more than seventeen if he was a day, and his fair skin resembled chalk beneath a thick mop of fiery red hair.
He brushed his palms on his trousers then held out a hand to help her ascend the carriage and take her seat.
“Thank you for driving, Mr. Ames.” Her voice held steady, belying the whirlwind within.
“It’s no trouble at all,” he replied with a courteous tip of his hat.
She waited for him to circle the conveyance and take his seat. “I’m competent with the reins, but I’m accustomed to driving in the city. Finding such a rural farm would prove challenging.”
“Jackson’s place isn’t too hard to find, once you know the way,” Oliver said. “You ready?”
Caroline smiled and gave a nod.
Her smile faded as the rumble of hooves and wheels surrounded her, and she sank into her thoughts. The trip was one she didn’t want to make, yet felt compelled to—a journey of healing down a path strewn with the shards of shattered dreams.
Chapter 11
“Almost there,” Oliver said when they’d traveled the better part of three hours.
Caroline peered out across the rolling fields, her pulse taking off like a startled bird. The carriage wheels strained as it edged around a curve. A homestead loomed ahead, lifeless and shuttered.
Oliver steered the horse to the water trough in the yard and drew the carriage to a halt. “Where would you like your trunk?”
“Could you wait to unload it until I speak with my brother-in-law?”
“Sure. I’m going to need his help anyhow.” He looped the reins and stood, but she waved him off.
Caroline climbed down from the seat, her boots landing with a jolt on hard-packed earth. Jackson’s house, unsurprisingly, was in a state of good repair, yet it wore a veil of sorrow. A windmill stood a few yards away, its blades turning at the tempo of a dirge.
Steeling herself, she scanned the yard and outbuildings. Her lungs froze when her gaze landed on Jackson standing a few yards away, leaning against a corral.
His sandy blond hair still gleamed in the sunlight, and he’d regained the weight he’d lost during the war, but he was at least three days unshaven, and his eyes weren’t bright with dreams as she remembered. The strong shoulders that had carried the weight of war were now burdened with a different battle.
Jackson’s jaw tightened as he pushed away from the fence and approached them. Powerful muscles moved beneath his clothes, and his limp was almost imperceptible. “Oliver,” he said with a subtle dip of his chin. His gaze cut back to her. “I wish you’d sent word.” His voice wasn’t much softer than the earth beneath her feet.
