Revealed (19 page)

He bowed his head and heard the thumping of his own heartbeat. Nauseating heat filled his stomach, then quickly subsided, leaving a cold seed of fear in its place. How had he sunk this—

‘‘Mornin’, Mr. Taylor.’’

He nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘‘Lilly . . .’’ Her name came out in a rush. The Carlsons’ daughter stood just inside the barn, her hands behind her back. ‘‘What brings you out here, little one?’’

He shoved the parchments back inside his bag and cinched the leather tie tight. He needed to burn them, but there’d not been time for that at the livery yesterday morning. And he couldn’t risk leaving anything that might be discovered in the livery forge.

‘‘I’m not that little, Mr. Taylor. I’ll be twelve next month.’’

He smoothed his sweaty palms on his jeans, noting the stubborn tilt of the girl’s chin. ‘‘Oh really? That old?’’ Dressed and ready for school, she rocked back and forth from the balls of her feet to her heels.

She stopped rocking. ‘‘Are you angry at me?’’

‘‘No, not at all. Why would you think that?’’ Seems Lilly had inherited her father’s directness as well as her mother’s beauty. ‘‘You look very pretty today, Lilly.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’ She beamed at the compliment, fingering her ankle-length skirt. ‘‘Mama says for you to come get some breakfast. She made biscuits and gravy.’’ Her eyes lit as she ran her tongue over her lips. ‘‘We all ate earlier, but I’m keeping your plate warm on the stove.’’

She fell into step right beside him, and though she did well in compensating, Matthew noticed her slight limp. He wondered if she’d been born with some problem or if it had happened through an accident. He held the back door open for her and heard noises coming from the kitchen. Maybe Annabelle would already have eaten by now; he didn’t welcome another spar with her. He could only hope.

‘‘Good morning, Mr. Taylor. Did you see my note?’’

Sometimes hope was a shallow thing. ‘‘Morning, Mrs. McCutchens.’’ He took a seat at the far end of the table. Lilly deposited a plate before him, all smiles. ‘‘Yes, ma’am. I saw it. Thank you, Lilly,’’ he added in a whisper. It surprised him when she claimed the chair next to his. He took a bite of biscuit smothered in sausage gravy. ‘‘Mmm, you were right, little one. This is delicious.’’

Lilly’s eyes widened. ‘‘I told you, Mr. Taylor, I’m going to be—’’ ‘‘Twelve years old next month.’’ He nodded. ‘‘That’s right, I remember now. You’re practically all grown up.’’

She rewarded him with another smile.
Sweet kid
.

Matthew felt Annabelle watching him, waiting. He savored another bite, feeling the satisfying effects of having food in his stomach.

‘‘And, Mr. Taylor?’’ Annabelle’s voice gained a tone, one he’d heard before.

He took his time looking up, remembering her parting words two days ago on the porch.
‘‘Kindly remember who’s done the hiring
here.’’
He grimaced as he pictured again the smirk she’d worn. Never had a woman spoken to him so bluntly before, and with such challenge. It wasn’t becoming.

‘‘And . . . what, ma’am?’’ he finally said.

‘‘What’s your answer?’’

‘‘Actually, I haven’t had time to read your note yet.’’

Her sigh mirrored his own irritation. ‘‘Mr. Taylor, I wrote telling you that I think we need to delay our departure by a day because—’’

‘‘No. That’s impossible.’’ He plunked down his fork and rose. The kitchen chair scraped across the wooden floor. ‘‘We leave tomorrow morning at sunrise, as planned.’’

Lilly reappeared at his side holding the coffee kettle. He hadn’t noticed she’d left. ‘‘More coffee, Mr. Taylor?’’

Annabelle shrugged. ‘‘Well, I don’t see how waiting one more day is going to make that much difference. Hannah is planning to go to visit a friend of hers a ways from town today. The woman’s ailing, and I’d like to go along to meet her, especially since I won’t be back here . . . at least not for a long time.’’

As though the matter were settled, she presented her back to him.

Matthew bristled, sorely wanting to cross the room and wring her little neck. ‘‘Mrs. McCutchens, first off, I’d appreciate you not turning your back on me when we’re having a discussion. Some might see that as rude.’’

Ever so slowly, she faced him again, one dark brow arched.

‘‘And secondly, I suggest, ma’am, that you enjoy your visit this morning and then come home and finish packing. Because that wagon is leaving tomorrow morning as planned.’’

‘‘Mr. Taylor, would you like some more coffee?’’

Matthew worked to keep his tone even with the girl. ‘‘Yes, Lilly, that’s fine. Thank you.’’ When she didn’t move to pour, he noticed her fading smile. Not knowing what he’d done wrong, he added another quick ‘‘Thank you, Lilly’’ in hopes of making it right.

She filled his half-empty cup to the brim and returned the pot to the stove, her shoulders still slumped. ‘‘I’d best be off to school now.’’

Not knowing why, he somehow felt responsible for Lilly’s sudden change in mood, and he was at a loss to know how to right it.

She stood at the doorway, her eyes doleful. ‘‘Bye, Mr. Taylor. I’ll see you this afternoon. You’ll still be here, right?’’

Matthew nodded as she closed the door. His breakfast was not nearly as appealing now. Not with what this woman had just sprung on him. A charcoal image sprang into his mind. He had to win this argument, plain and simple.

‘‘Mrs. McCutchens . . .’’ Using her married name now that they were alone rankled him, but it was a concession he was willing to make. Especially under the circumstances. ‘‘You hired me to get you back with Brennan’s group, then on to Idaho before the first snowfall. That means we have a schedule to keep.’’ He raced to think of reasons one day would make such a difference. Other than the obvious one, which he couldn’t tell her.

‘‘Be careful with her, Mr. Taylor.’’

He squinted, then glanced behind him. ‘‘Be careful with who? What are you talking about?’’

Annabelle shook her head and gave him a pitying stare. ‘‘You have absolutely no clue, do you?’’

‘‘No clue about what?’’

‘‘About that sweet young girl who just left here.’’

He glanced in the direction Lilly had gone. The woman had lost her frail mind.

‘‘She’s smitten with you, Mr. Taylor.’’ A single brow slowly rose. ‘‘For whatever reason,’’ she added just loud enough for him to hear.

He scoffed. ‘‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Which brings me back to your original question. No, we’re not delaying one day. We leave here tomorrow as planned. They say rain is supposed to be moving in soon, and I want to be on our way before it does.’’

‘‘Who’s saying that?’’ She peered out the kitchen window. ‘‘Doesn’t look like rain to me.’’

‘‘I won’t take the chance of being delayed, Mrs. McCutchens. Not when I’ve given my word to Pastor Carlson that I’ll get you to Brennan’s group no later than mid-July.’’ He watched her expression, trying to gauge the effectiveness of his arguments. But whatever this woman was thinking, she managed to keep it hidden. As much as he’d been dreading being alone with her on the trail, he would take that over the certainty of the fate that awaited him here. ‘‘We’ll need every day we have to catch up. Unexpected things happen on the trail and could end up costing us a day or two, or more. Time out there is precious, especially when you consider limited provisions, water supply, unpredictable weather,’’ he said, ticking the items off on one hand. ‘‘You hired me to do a job, ma’am. Now I suggest you let me do it.’’

Her eyes narrowed for a brief instant, and he prepared for opposition.

‘‘All right, Mr. Taylor. We’ll do it your way . . .’’
This time,
is what he heard in her pause. ‘‘I’ll be ready to leave in the morning as planned.’’

It took him a few seconds to process that she’d given in to him. ‘‘Well . . . all right, then.’’ He managed what he hoped was an authoritative nod and finished his biscuits and gravy, suddenly not minding that they’d grown cold.

He’d just won the second round.

CHAPTER | FIFTEEN

F
OLLOWING BREAKFAST AND THE
run-in with Annabelle Grayson, Matthew welcomed the solitude of the barn. He finished sorting the last of the provisions and repacked them in boxes and crates that would best use the wagon’s limited space. Then he inspected the repair he’d done on the wheels and checked the underside of the wagon’s carriage for a second time, to make sure it was sound.

‘‘Taylor?’’

Matthew turned at the masculine voice, unprepared to see the couple standing a few feet from him. Or the little boy hanging on to his father’s hand.

‘‘I’m sorry if we’re interrupting you, Matthew.’’ Larson Jennings smiled, then nodded toward his wife beside him. ‘‘But Kathryn wanted to see you before you left. And so did I.’’

Seeing Kathryn Jennings pulled Matthew back in time. Standing here before him now, she looked very much as she had two years ago. His attention went involuntarily to her midsection, and when he realized he was staring, he jerked his focus upward.

A slow smile curved Kathryn’s mouth, and she gave a tiny nod.

Matthew immediately looked at Jennings, knowing the man would’ve decked him for even glancing at his wife in past years. All the ranch hands had been smart enough to keep their distance from Kathryn Jennings. Well, at least while Jennings was watching.

Not a hint of retaliation showed in his expression. ‘‘I was glad to hear from Carlson that you got the job.’’

Matthew briefly ducked his head. ‘‘I was glad when I heard it too.’’ When the couple both laughed, Matthew joined them. ‘‘Thank you again, Jennings, for . . . what you said to Pastor Carlson.’’

‘‘I only told him the truth.’’ Jennings wore an easy smile. ‘‘Every man needs help from time to time. I was glad to do it.’’ His wife leaned in to him, resting a hand on his chest. He put an arm around her waist, and Matthew couldn’t help but notice how right the scene before him seemed. ‘‘I think little William and I will head on into town. We’ll be back to pick you up later this afternoon.’’ Jennings bent down and hoisted the toddling dark-headed boy, then lifted him so Kathryn could give him a hug. ‘‘Come on, partner. We’ve got some horses to go look at.’’

With his son in his arms, Jennings extended his hand to Matthew. ‘‘We’re staying in town tonight. I’ve got some business in the morning, but we’ll be here bright and early to help with the final loading and to see you off.’’

‘‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’’ Matthew found Jennings’ grip firm and strong, same as earlier that week, regardless of the injuries the man had sustained two years ago. He looked at the little boy; the resemblance to Jennings was striking. Same coloring as his father, same blue eyes. Bits of Kathryn shone around his chin and nose, but no way could Jennings ever deny this boy was his son.

‘‘How’ve you been, Matthew?’’ Kathryn asked after Larson and young William were gone.

He shrugged. ‘‘Fine.’’

‘‘You’re looking well, if that says anything about how life’s been treating you.’’

Thinking of what was stashed in his saddlebag a few feet away, he was glad she didn’t know how his life was truly going. ‘‘I can say the same for you too. You look beautiful, Kathryn. Just the same as the last time I saw you.’’ He thought again about how much he’d once cared for her and how glad he was now that things had worked out the way they had between them.

Her expression softened. ‘‘For a long time now, Matthew, I’ve wanted to thank you for being such a strength to me . . . when I went through that time. I’m grateful for everything you did for me. For us.’’

‘‘I was glad to do it,’’ he answered, reminded that Jennings had just told him the same thing.

‘‘I was sorry to hear about your brother. Larson and I didn’t know Jonathan well and, of course, never knew the two of you were brothers. We were present at his and Annabelle’s wedding, and your brother seemed like a very kind and thoughtful man. He certainly seemed to care deeply for Annabelle.’’

She paused, as though waiting for him to say something, but then continued. ‘‘Annabelle is a very special woman, Matthew. She’s become a dear friend to me, and I . . . I realize you don’t know her well, so you might be tempted to think like some here in town do— that she hasn’t changed all that much. But I want to assure you she has. She’s a very different woman now than when you first met her.’’ A tentative look moved into her eyes. ‘‘You’ll be traveling together for several weeks, and I hope you’ll try and find some common ground between you. Give her a chance to show you who she’s become. Try not to make up your mind too quickly.’’ She gave him a hopeful smile. ‘‘People
can
change, you know.’’

He wanted to disagree, but the earnest quality in Kathryn’s voice wouldn’t let him.

‘‘Sometimes, Matthew, old expectations can cause us to miss seeing changes in people. No matter how well you may think you know a person, sometimes things simply aren’t as they appear.’’

‘‘Isn’t that the truth,’’ he whispered, gradually smiling along with her.

‘‘I don’t mean to overstep my bounds here, but have you imagined what it must be like for her? To try and become someone new in a place where everyone knows what you used to be, knows every mistake you’ve ever made—even the secret things? And they remind you of it at every opportunity.’’

The intensity in her eyes was so piercing that he wondered for a second if she knew the truth about
him
. About what he’d done. Shame burned within him at that possibility, but further scrutiny laid his fears to rest. Her expression held no accusation—only concern.

Then it hit him. He did share common ground with Annabelle Grayson. They both had pasts they would prefer to keep hidden. Only he had the upper hand in this case—she didn’t know about his. He would’ve thought discovering that advantage would bring satisfaction. Instead it brought an unexpected sense of hollowness.

‘‘I give you my word, Kathryn. Because you’ve asked, I’ll work to keep an open mind about her.’’ Though it wouldn’t be easy for him. Nor was it likely that Annabelle Grayson McCutchens would make it so.

Annabelle stood by the wagon and watched as Kathryn and Hannah took turns giving the older woman a hug. Their sentences spilled out on top of one another.