Page 61 of Mail-Order Viscountess

“Wait.” Robert held up a hand. “If we could rig some kind of pulley system—use leverage instead of brute force⁠—”

“That would take time to set up.” Enoch stood. “Time we don’t have.”

“What about the back trail?”

Thomas’s voice cut through the discussion, drawing every head toward him.

He stood slightly apart from his brothers, arms crossed over his chest, his expression thoughtful. “The north ridge route. It comes down into the canyon from above. If we went in that way, we wouldn’t need to dig at all—just drive the cattle up that back slope and loop around on the old trapper’s path.”

A moment of silence.

“I—” Mrs. Jenkins’s face had drained of color. “Samuel won’t take that trail.” She spoke quietly, but her tone made the words sound absolute. Final in a way that closed off discussion.

Thomas frowned. “Why not? I know it’s narrow in places, but with the ice melting, it won’t be slick⁠—”

“He won’t.” Mrs. Jenkins’s voice cracked. Her hands had started trembling again, sending ripples through her tea. “When we first moved west, he tried that trail. Early spring, just like now. He thought it was safe.”

She stopped. Drew a breath that made her shoulders shudder.

“The ground gave way beneath his horse. He fell... I don’t know how far. He’s never told me everything. But I know he nearly died. I know he spent weeks recovering, and I know he still has nightmares about it.” She looked up at Thomas, her eyes bright and glassy. “He made me a promise. He would never take that trail again. Ever. I can’t ask him to break that promise. I won’t.”

The weight of her words pressed down on the room.

A shimmer of understanding touched Thomas’s gaze. Clearly, the Jenkins’ fear ran bone-deep, the kind that couldn’t be reasoned away.

But he must have realized his suggestion could make the difference in this situation. “Mrs. Jenkins, I understand he’s afraid. I do. But the conditions are different now—the snow’s had time to settle. Samuel doesn’t need to come with us. I could lead the way, check every foot of the path before we⁠—”

“Thomas.” James’s voice was gentle but firm. “You heard her.”

“I’m just saying that if we⁠—”

“We’re not going to force a man to face his worst nightmare.” Enoch cut him off, the words landing like stones. “Not when there’s another option.”

“An option that might not work in time.” Thomas’s jaw tightened. “They might lose some of those cattle.”

“Then we work faster.” James clapped his brother on the shoulder—maybe a touch meant to be reassuring, she could almost feel the frustration flaring from Thomas like heat from a fire. “We’ll dig through. All of us working together, around the clock if we have to. We’ll get those cattle out.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll start gathering the tools. We should take the draft horses⁠—”

“I pack food.” Mrs. Wang marched toward the kitchen.

Thomas’s posture had changed. Closed off. Locked down. His face wore that easy half-smile she was coming to recognize as armor—the look that meant he was feeling something he didn’t want anyone to see.

She knew that feeling well. Had tried to hide it herself more times than she could count. The expression of someone whose voice didn’t matter. Whose ideas were dismissed before they could fully form.

The injustice of it burned in her chest.

“I’ll get the horses ready.” Thomas’s voice came out flat. He turned to the door without waiting for a response.

As the rest of the group dispersed to make preparations, she watched through the window as he descended the porch steps and crossed the yard toward the barn, his shoulders straight, his stride just a little too controlled.

I see you. Even if they don’t.

And when, exactly, had seeing Thomas Balfour started to matter so much?

CHAPTER 20

Five days.