Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

J ess soaked in the aroma of frying bacon as she turned the strips in the frying pan the next morning. So far, Gil and her father still slept. She didn’t have to wonder why Gil was extra tired this morning.

When he’d slipped from his covers in the night and crept out of the cave, she’d followed of course. She’d expected him to search for his brother.

And Sampson had already been up to meet him.

Had they somehow scheduled the meeting? Or were both so desperate for conversation with the other that they’d had the same idea without planning it?

She’d crept close, straining to hear their words, but only caught snippets— sapphires and wife .

Did wife mean her? Possibly. Sampson must be curious how his brother could be suddenly wed to his boss’s daughter. Had Gil told him the truth?

Her middle tightened. They’d not discussed whether anyone should be brought into confidence about their pretend union . It might be all right if Sampson knew. But what if he told someone else, someone who reported back to Jedidiah?

Jedidiah would tell Father, and not only would Father be livid—possibly enough to harm Gil. He would also force her to marry Stuart Wallace.

Father’s snores ceased. He’d be coming soon.

As she selected the portions of bacon and potatoes he would like best, the rustle of her own bed curtain sounded.

She glanced over as Gil pulled the cloth aside and stepped out. He still wore that sleepy look, his hair tousled and his eyes squinting a little.

Her heart pumped a little faster.

He was so handsome, but in the morning before he came fully to life, something about him made her want to plant a kiss on his cheek. Actually, she’d much rather press her lips to his—they looked so full and supple right now. A peck on the cheek would be more acceptable though, given their situation.

As though he’d heard her thoughts, Gil walked right up to her, not stopping beside the stove but moving behind her. When his hands rested on her sides, she froze. All except her heart, which surged like a runaway horse, pulling free of the bit in a reckless gallop.

Gil’s stubble-roughened jaw brushed against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and his warm breath caressed her cheek as he pressed a lingering kiss there.

She’d been right. His lips were full and supple this morning.

“Good morning, wife.” His voice graveled in that sleepy tone that made her knees weaken. If not for his hands at her sides, she might melt into a puddle right there.

She wanted to lean back into his solid warmth, to lose herself in his embrace, but a thud from Father's room startled her back to reality.

Gil's hands fell away, and he stepped back just as Father emerged, yawning.

"Morning," Father grunted, his gaze flicking between them with a sharpness that belied his sleepy appearance.

Jess turned back to the stove, focusing on dishing up breakfast with hands that trembled more than they ought.

Gil returned Father’s greeting, and the chairs scraped as the men sat at the table.

She brought over their plates at the same time instead of bringing Father’s meal and coffee at the same time. Would he notice the change? The way she was elevating Gil to the same preference she gave Father?

Gil met her eyes as she set his plate in front of him. That warm brown gaze held hers as a smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”

Father picked up his fork and speared a potato. "Bring me some coffee, daughter."

With effort, she broke the connection with Gil, then turned to retrieve both mugs. Was it worth riling her father to make it clear Gil’s importance in her life? He needed to believe their story. Yet, she knew well the danger in angering Mick McPharland.

After filling her own plate, she sat at the table with the men. Gil had said he wanted her to be part of meals, so she might as well join them before he had to ask her to. When she was settled at her place, she realized what a treat it was to eat at the table while the others did, not steal snippets of bacon in between her work while her father ate. It wasn’t as hard to relax with Father when Gil was also here, his comfortable gaze flicking to hers, the hint of a smile when their eyes met.

Throughout breakfast, Father peppered Gil with questions about his family and life on the ranch. Gil answered in his usual easygoing manner. He’d told her about his brothers and the wives of the three older ones, but she hadn’t heard about all the other people who lived on the ranch. His niece and nephew, the sister of his brother Jericho’s wife, as well as the sister’s husband and their two daughters.

It must feel like a small town with so many of them.

She couldn’t imagine having so many women close by. Were there rivalries and gossip, or did they get along like best friends? Would they welcome her? Or keep her at a distance? They were all family, after all.

She’d always wanted a sister, someone who would be a friend she could confide in. Yet, she’d also learned things often didn’t turn out the way she imagined them. If for some unfathomable reason she were settled near Gil’s ranch, having his sisters-in-law nearby could be frustrating or downright miserable.

Or, it could be everything she’d ever dreamed.

"So, what are you two planning for today?" Father dropped his fork beside his empty plate and leaned back in his chair.

His words tightened a knot in her middle. His expression didn’t hold censure, but she knew well he was asking because they’d gone in the caves yesterday—an action that she hadn’t mentioned when he’d asked their plans yesterday morning.

She worked for a casual tone. "I need to get back to those winter shirts I was making. We might take the work down to the creek where the lighting is good."

Father’s eyes narrowed. "Might want to stay out of the caves then."

She nodded. “Of course.”

He pushed to his feet. As he pulled his hat from the hook, he gave his usual farewell. “I’ll be back for the midday meal.” Then with a final glance around the room, he stepped around the door curtain.

She eased out a breath and stood, gathering the used dishes to keep her hands busy. She had plenty of work to accomplish.

But as she loaded the plates into the wash bucket, Gil stepped up beside her and took the rag. “I’ll wash these.”

She slid a look at him. "This is my work."

The corners of his eyes creased as he reached into the bucket and pulled out a cup. “I’d like to.” Now his mouth curved upward. “Makes me feel right at home. Back before Dinah and Naomi came, we boys had to do the cooking and cleaning ourselves.”

She couldn’t find a single word to answer him. Father never would have dreamed of helping with women’s work. But she also couldn’t bring herself to push Gil away from the bucket of soapy water.

So she turned her focus to cleaning the stove. Cooking bacon always meant she needed to wipe down every inch of the cast iron.

They worked in easy quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds the splashing of water and the clink of dishes.

"Think you could show me the men's bunkhouse this morning?" Gil asked.

Jess slanted him a sideways glance, lifting her brows. "Didn't get to say all you wanted to your brother last night?" She kept her tone light, but her heart picked up pace.

Gil stilled, his hands braced on the wash bucket as he turned to her. "You know about that?"

Should she tell him she’d followed him? So far, Gil had given her no reason to distrust him. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to help her, even at his own peril. "I followed you. I saw you talk with Sampson, but I didn't hear what you said."

The corners of his mouth twitched as he turned back to his washing. He didn’t speak for a moment, clearly focused on his thoughts. "It was good to see him." His voice held a wistful tone.

She searched for a response to keep the conversation going. She wasn’t good at small talk. She just didn’t have enough experience with it. "Is he excited to leave?"

Gil's mouth pressed, and his brow wrinkled. "Says he doesn't want to go. That his work here isn't done."

Jess tried to make sense of that. Why in the Montana Territory would Sampson want to keep working in these caves? Working for Mick McPharland. Most men tried everything they could to leave, but Jedidiah forced them to stay.

Gil shrugged as if hearing her thoughts. "I've no idea why, but I aim to find a way to talk him into leaving."

A new concern niggled through her. She’d not thought about how Sampson would leave. She and Gil would depart with her father, of course. But should Sampson sneak away during the activity around their departure? Should she tell her father the men were brothers so Sampson could ride out with them?

No.

Revealing that connection felt far too dangerous for both Coulters, if her father hadn’t already realized it.

Her stomach tightened. If he had, the fact that he’d kept silent about knowing the men were brothers couldn’t bode well.

Yet if her father was unaware, the very last thing she wanted was to bring the fact to his attention.

She’d finished with the stove and moved to wipe the table as Gil carried the wash water outside to dump.

Father had all but told them not to venture into the caves today. But Gil wanted to see the bunkhouse. And the rebellious part of her wanted to show it to him, despite her father’s words. Maybe they could sneak in and out without anyone knowing.

When they finished their work, she dried her hands on her apron. "I can take you to the bunkhouse. There's a tunnel that leads there."

He nodded, his gaze wary. "Will that cause problems?”

She shrugged. “Not if we don’t meet anyone along the way.”

He inhaled a long breath, then let it out in a slow stream. “I’m ready when you are."

Now would be as good a time as any. After slipping past the door curtain, she pointed Gil to the right instead of moving toward daylight. Shadows hid the black curtain covering the inner passage, so one would have to be looking for it to see.

Gil’s gasp behind her showed he must not have seen it before now.

She didn’t dare speak to him—even a whisper might make too much noise, and this was the passage her father used all the time—but the tunnel was so dark that she needed to lead Gil so he didn’t stumble. She reached for his hand, her fingers finding his arm and slipping down to catch hold around his palm.

She wouldn’t be lighting a lantern, no matter what.

The warm strength of Gil’s hand around hers settled her nerves as they moved deeper into the mountain. He’d learned to walk much quieter through the darkness than he had that first time she led him to the large cavern to look down at his brother. Had that only been two days ago? It felt like he’d been here for weeks.

She kept her senses straining for any sign of approaching men. The brush of leather against rock or the faint glow of a lantern ahead. They passed both storage rooms and the turn-off to the caverns, and then the tunnel opened into the bunkhouse, a long low room lined with cots. She halted to let Gil see the space.

His gaze swept over the scattered belongings and rumpled bedding. She should release his hand. With daylight coming through the open entrance, she didn’t need to guide him any longer. But she couldn’t bring herself to let him go.

But he pulled away, moving toward one of the cots in the center. He seemed caught in his thoughts as he reached out to touch a shirt draped over the end. "This is Sampson's." His voice came quietly. "One of his favorites.”

He lifted the shirt, staring at it for a long moment. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he set the garment back down.

She moved to his side and studied the worn yellow cloth. She could almost imagine Sampson wearing it while he worked in the hot sun on a ranch. What kind of life had he known before coming here? Before being drawn into her father's dark world?

She glanced up at Gil, and a knot formed in her throat as emotions played over his face. How hard this must be for him, to be so close to his brother and yet unable to convince him to leave this dangerous place.

After a minute, Gil turned back to her, a shadow in his eyes. "Wish I'd brought a note to leave for him. Something to persuade him to go with us."

If only she had the right words to comfort Gil. But what could she say? That Sampson would surely come to his senses? She had no way of knowing if that were true. Her father held a powerful sway over the men who worked for him, either through fear, manipulation, or a twisted sense of loyalty. Breaking free of that grip was no easy feat.

He swallowed again, determination slipping into his gaze despite the weariness there. "I'll find a way to talk to him again. To make him see reason." He glanced around the dim bunkhouse. "Might have to come back here after dark, when everyone's asleep."

Her gut twisted at the thought of him sneaking around at night again. He might meet one of the guards next time.

Urgency pressed in her chest. "We should head back." No sense in taking extra chances now.

Gil turned around the way they’d come.

When they reached the dark tunnel, she paused to take his hand. He placed it solidly in hers, wrapping his strength around her. His eyes had lost their sadness, restoring the glimmer of warmth. How did he shake off his burdens so easily? Was he that good at pretending?

Yet it didn’t feel like pretending. The way he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, the way he held her gaze so easily, the smile creases so ready at the corners of his eyes…it felt like he truly had faith that this would all work out.

Lord, I want that too.

She led him through the dark tunnel.

One thing at a time. For now, she needed to gather her sewing and take Gil out to the waterfall. An hour of sitting beside the peaceful flow always eased her spirit.