Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

J ake stepped out of the barn to see the ranch hands riding into the barnyard with whoops and hollers. It was early, too early, for the men to be coming in from the summer pasture. He pulled his pocket watch out and snapped open the cover. Only four o'clock. "What's going on?" He caught Slick slipping from his saddle, puffs of barnyard dust billowing around his feet.

The man grinned. "It's pay day. Come on over to the bunkhouse. Antonio will be handing out our envelopes in about an hour." He wrapped his horse's reins around the post. "If'n you're plannin' to head into town, now would be the time to get cleaned up. You don't want those pretty ladies at the Spur to be wrinklin' their noses ‘cause you smell like a horse."

Cesar rode up beside them and dismounted, joining the conversation before his feet even hit the ground. "Come down to the river."

"The river?"

"That's where we go to get ourselves all spit shined and polished before we head into town. Helluva lot better than washing up at the barrel." He nodded toward the barrel of rainwater at the edge of the bunkhouse porch, then rubbed his hands together with obvious glee. "I got me a brand-new deck o' cards and I'm feeling lucky!"

"No, thanks."

"Suit yourself," he said as he wrapped his horse's reins around the post in front of the barn, hitched up his trousers and headed toward the bunkhouse. He came out a few minutes later with a bundle of clean clothes—at least, Jake thought they were clean—and headed behind the barn.

The rest of the men followed, laughing, and pushing at each other, all carrying a clean set of clothing, and the barnyard grew quiet, but the quiet didn't last. Teddy, who still managed to give him that look at least once a day, if not more often, rode in, followed by his brothers. He dismounted in front of him and tossed him his horse's reins. "Jake."

"Teddy."

"You heading into town with the boys?"

"No, sir. Not this time."

Teddy looked at him as if trying to read his thoughts but failed. That look was in his eyes though and there was no mistaking it. The warning was clear. Stay away from Evie. It hadn't changed since that night he found them in the barn. He was thankful Teddy knew nothing about their kiss or he doubted he would still be upright and his nose not broken.

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, Teddy tipped his hat back. "Hitch up the carriage when you have a minute."

"Of course."

"Hey, Jake." Heath gave him a big smile. "Give ol' Goldie extra oats tonight. He had a rough day." He patted his horse's side before giving him the reins.

"Will do."

Esteban handed him his horse's reins as well. "Don't bother removing his saddle. Catalina and I will be heading back out again, but if you could saddle up Horatio, I'd appreciate it."

Surprised the man uttered more words than Jake had heard before, he smiled. "Of course."

Esteban gave him a quick nod, his quota of words apparently spent, then headed toward the house, following after his brothers.

Jake took care of the horses, putting them in the corral to cool down before he brushed them, then saddled Horatio. When he was done, he headed toward the building behind the barn where the fancy carriage was housed. He wiped it down with a cloth, swiping at the seats to make sure no spiders or other critters were hiding among the cracks then hitched up the draft horses. He guided the horses to where the flagstone ended and the barnyard began, unsure if he should bring them to the front of the house or not. He hadn't been instructed.

Dusting his hands off on his trousers, he headed back to the corral. The horses he put in there should be cool enough to brush down. He didn't make it very far as the sound of laughter and crude jokes drifted toward him. In a moment, he saw his bunkmates troop back to the bunkhouse, all ‘spit shined and polished,' as Cesar called it, hair still wet, slicked back, faces clear of the dust and dirt they seemed to wear as part of their everyday attire. His bunkmates weren't normally the cleanest bunch of men. Aside from splashing cold water on their faces in the morning to help them wake up, hygiene didn't seem to be high on their list of priorities, though Grub made them wash their hands before they were allowed to sit at the supper table, which Jake found amusing.

He knew they sometimes looked at him strangely because he was the opposite, washing up as best he could from the barrel outside the bunkhouse every night. He may not be living in the lap of luxury like he had at one time, but that didn't mean he couldn't be clean. Nor did it mean his clothes couldn't be clean, either, and he rinsed his socks and undergarments every night and hung them out to dry on the fence behind the barn, which made his bunkmates laugh.

Apparently, that was something that never came to their minds. Laundry was done once a week, on Wednesday, but the men handed over their clothing to Ana begrudgingly when she came to collect them. Even Oscar, who spent a great deal of time combing and waxing his mustache, which was rather impressive, didn't extend the practice to the rest of himself.

Antonio sidled up beside him, carrying a small wooden tray with raised sides. "Come on inside, Jake. It's payday and you earned every penny." He picked out one of the envelopes and shook it, making the coins inside slide back and forth. "I had my doubts when we first met, but you've done well."

The unexpected compliment pleased him, and he followed the man into the bunkhouse. The other men were already lined up at the table, waiting for their pay, the atmosphere full of expectation. Antonio pulled out a chair, made himself comfortable, picked up an envelope and called out the first name. His name was called last, and he wondered if the big man had done that on purpose.

"Here ya go, Jake."

Jake ripped open the little envelope and glanced inside. Crisp new bills and several shiny coins met his eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't spend it all in one place." Antonio picked up his empty box, then addressed the rest of the men. "Have fun tonight, amigos , but not too much fun. I don't want to see any broken bones or busted heads tomorrow morning. And I'm not bailing any of you out of jail either. Just keep that in mind." He left amid crude comments, though they were said in jest, followed by Cesar, Emilio, Mayhem, and Oscar. Even Grub, apparently, intended to join his bunkmates for a night on the town.

"You're not heading into town with us?" Slick asked, as he stepped up beside him, his own envelope in hand.

Jake shook his head. "No, I promised Antonio I would finish cleaning up the tack room." It wasn't the truth. There would be gambling at the saloon, he was sure of it, and he might not be able to resist. He hadn't touched a playing card since he left San Francisco. He hadn't broken his promise to Father O'Malley, but he didn't want to tempt fate. "Is there a post office in town?"

"Sure is. Miss Gemma at Goldwater's handles the mail."

"Would you drop off a letter for me?"

"I can do that."

"I'll have it ready for you before you leave."

"That's fine, but ya better hurry." Slick grinned as he removed his pay from the envelope and stuffed everything in his pocket. He didn't even count it. "I got me a pretty little miss at the Silver Spur. Don't wanna keep her waitin'." He tipped his hat and walked outside, leaving the door wide open.

Jake retrieved the letter he'd been writing to Father O'Malley from his trunk as soon as Slick exited the bunkhouse. He finished it quickly, folded it around several of the new crisp bills he'd been given and stuck it in an envelope. He wrote out the address that had been part of his life for as long as he could remember, included a return address in the upper corner, and headed outside. All the men were on their horses, anxious to be off for a night of carousing and gambling and whatever other entertainment there was to be found. He handed the envelope to Slick along with a few coins to pay for postage.

The man glanced at the envelope, then looked at him, his eyes widening with surprise. "Father Ryan O'Malley?"

"An old family friend," he said, not wishing to share any more than that.

Slick shrugged and slipped the letter in his shirt pocket, then let out a whoop and kicked his horse. The other men followed suit, racing out of the barnyard, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

It wasn't long after that Teddy and Heath, along with their wives and Ana, came out of the big house, all dressed in their town finery, and climbed into the waiting carriage. Apparently they enjoyed a night on the town as well as the men, though he assumed their celebration would be a bit more subdued. Instead of a noisy saloon, he supposed they'd dine at a nice restaurant, perhaps take in a play or listen to music, if Serenity had an opera house. Or they might be going to visit Lucy. He doubted very much that they would sit at a felt-covered table and gamble.

Antonio and Hilde, he noticed, did not join them. Neither did Charley and Felicity. He didn't see Evie, either, which was a good thing. She wasn't heading into town. He supposed she was inside with the children, but maybe she'd come out later, sit on the patio and watch the sun set. And just maybe, she'd like some company when she did.

He saw Esteban and Catalina come out of the house a few moments later and head straight for the corral. They each carried saddle bags as well as burlap sacks. They mounted up and rode out in the opposite direction.

The barnyard grew quiet, except for an occasional meow from the cats wanting some attention, the clucking of the chickens with an occasional crow from Lucifer, who still didn't know what time it was, and the soft sounds of the horses in the corral. He wandered toward the paddock and opened the gate. One at a time, he brought the horses into the barn, brushed them down, gave them their share of oats—a little extra for Goldie, as Heath requested—and settled them for the night.

Once that chore was done, he took a seat on the stump he used to chop wood. Flower jumped in his lap, her purrs quite loud as she rubbed her face against his. The dog wasn't far either, lying in a patch of sunlight. The evening stretched out before him. He could go back into the barn and keep company with the horses. He hadn't lied when he said he'd grown fond of them. Or he could settle in and finish reading one of the books he'd chosen from the bookshelf in the bunkhouse. Or he could pick up the sketch pad once more and try to capture Evie's face just before he kissed her last night.

The object of his thoughts came out of the house, a tray in her hand, covered with a checkered napkin, and walked through her garden toward him. He stood as she drew closer, once again admiring her beauty, which wasn't hard to do…he found himself doing that more often than not. She wore one of her favored split skirts, this one a light tan suede, pairing it with shiny black boots that reached the hem of the skirt and a plain white blouse. Her hair had been left loose—no bun at the back of her head or horse's tail that swung back and forth as she walked—to curl in wild abandon around her shoulders. She looked very much like she had the night of the storm. His pulse quickened and warmth flooded him as blood rushed through his veins.

Color flamed on her cheeks as she handed him the tray. "I noticed everyone went into town, including Grub, which means you have no supper."

"There's enough in the ice box to cook something up, but I appreciate it." Holding the tray from beneath with one hand, he removed the napkin and his mouth watered. A bowl brimming with a hearty beef stew and a thick slice of bread, already buttered, met his eyes. There was even a piece of chocolate cake and a tall glass of milk. "Thank you."

He gestured to the makeshift chair he'd been sitting on. "Please."

"Oh, no." She leaned against the wall, her hands behind her back. "You sit. You need to eat."

He studied her for a moment, then laid the tray on the stump and disappeared into the bunkhouse. He returned in a moment, bringing one of the kitchen chairs with him. He placed it beside the stump.

Evie gave him a quick smile, then sank into the chair, her gaze moving to the horizon.

He did the same, though his focus was more on her than the sunset. Still, the vibrant colors of the setting sun seemed to glow on her face. "The sunsets here are beautiful," he said, before he took a big bite of the bread. The sweet creamy butter and the tartness of the sourdough hit his taste buds all at once and he nearly groaned at the combination.

"What?"

With bread in hand, he gestured toward the horizon and the myriad of colors streaking across the sky, a deep magenta being the predominant shade. "The sunsets. Are they always this beautiful?"

"Yes, I like to think so. This is my favorite time of day."

"Mine as well."

"Why didn't you go into town?"

"Why didn't you go into town?" They asked the question at the same time, which amused him.

"You first," he said, watching the blush spread across her cheeks and loving the sight.

"There's nothing in town I needed. Besides, I thought it was important that Ana go. She hasn't been to see her family in a couple of weeks. You?"

"Didn't see a reason." He smiled at her, then said, "And I'd hoped, maybe, that you and I could spend some time together, get to know each other a little more. I learned a lot about you that night in the barn, but there's still so much I don't know."

"But there are entertainments. A few saloons, where there's music, the whiskey and beer flow freely, and a poker game or a fight is always ready to happen." She lowered her voice to almost a whisper and tilted her head to the side, peering at him sideways. "A bawdy house or two."

"Not interested."

"Why aren't you already married?" she blurted out.

The question caught him off guard. He wasn't quite sure how to answer, so he took a spoonful of the stew and mulled it over as he chewed. Finally, he said, "I could ask the same of you."

She smiled. "I asked you first."

His gaze roamed her face, settling first on her eyes then on her mouth—her utterly kissable mouth—and the memory of the taste of her lips made responding almost impossible. He pulled in a breath, trying to control his thoughts. Finally, he shrugged. "Never found anyone willing to put up with my faults."

"Your faults? Surely you don't have that many."

He laughed at the serious expression on her face. "Oh, I can list them out for you, if you'd like, but I have to warn you, we could be here for days."

She chuckled at that. "I don't think that will be necessary." Her gaze was still on him, a fine web of wrinkles, though he thought of them as laugh lines, radiating from the corners of her eyes. There were laugh lines around her mouth, too, but they didn't detract from her beauty—not at all. They only enhanced her loveliness and told him that this woman laughed. A lot. "Have you ever been in love?"

He shook his head. "No."

The answer seemed to surprise her. "Never?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes, I find that hard to believe. Everyone has fallen in love at some point in their lives, even if it was unrequited."

He didn't agree, but then again, what did he know of love? Absolutely nothing. There were people who were fond of him, like Father O'Malley and Sister Agnes, and he was fond of them in return, but love? No, that was something he hadn't experienced. "What about you?" he asked, even though he knew about Marshal Tom. "Were you ever in love?"

"Once," she admitted with a sigh. "A long time ago." She stared at her hands folded in her lap. The fading sunlight, filled with shades of red and pink and gold, reflected on her, making the strands of silver in her hair turn a pale golden red.

"What was his name?"

"Tom Gray."

"Tell me about him."

She glanced at him then turned back toward the sunset though he didn't miss the flash of sadness in her eyes. "He was the Marshal here in Serenity," she said softly. "He was a good man."

"How did you meet?"

"He rode out to the ranch one morning to warn me about horse thieves in the area, wanting to make sure we were aware of the danger, wanting to make sure I was safe. He was like that. Caring. Sweet. Protective, very much like Teddy. The boys adored him. So did Hilde and almost everyone who knew him. I adored him." Her voice grew hoarse and she cleared her throat.

"After the horse thieves were arrested, he kept coming around, a couple times a week, on his ‘rounds,' as he called his visits. He started staying for a cup of coffee and we'd talk. Coffee turned into dinners here at the house and in town." She laughed. "It didn't take long for me to fall in love with him or for him to feel the same way. When he asked me to marry him, I said yes. What else could I say? I loved him. Still do." She drew in her breath and didn't say anything for the longest time. When she finally spoke again, her voice was stronger, but he could still hear the sadness in her tone.

"We spent weeks planning our wedding, making lists of who we should invite, what we should have to eat. He wanted a big wedding. He said it was the only one he'd ever have. We were going to have it right here in the garden. My friend Marisol made my wedding dress. Hilde was going to make my wedding cake."

She grew quiet then, her face in profile as the sun dipped lower in the horizon, perhaps remembering Tom, or perhaps, trying to forget him, though one never truly forgets.

"Then a week before the wedding, Owen Pierce came out to see me. He was Tom's deputy and a good friend. I knew before he opened his mouth that it was bad news. And it was. It broke his heart to tell me that Tom…died. It broke mine, too."

"I'm sorry." What else could he say? He was sorry, not only for asking the question, but for making her remember the pain of Tom's loss.

After a moment, she turned to face him, and her eyes were shimmering with tears. "It was a long time ago. I've learned to live with his decision to go after the man who killed my sister and her husband, even after he promised me he wouldn't. Deep in my heart, I know he had to do what he had to do. I just wish he hadn't lied to me. I wish I could have at least said goodbye."

His gut tightened as sympathy flared in his heart for her. He should change the subject to relieve her pain and his, make her laugh. Say something, anything to get rid of the sorrow on her face, in her voice.

Before he could open his mouth and follow through on his thought, she gave a slight nod then swiped at her eyes. She drew in her breath, her chest moving with the effort, drawing his attention to the ivory buttons on her blouse before he focused on her face once again. The sadness in her eyes seemed to be dimming.

She looked at him. "Why did you respond to Lucy's advertisement?" A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You're a handsome man. I'm certain you wouldn't have any problem finding a wife without resorting to an advertisement. In fact, I daresay you would have to chase them away."

"I've never had to—as you say—chase women away."

"I'm serious, Jake. Why would a man like you answer an advertisement for a husband and come to a ranch, when it's quite obvious you know nothing about ranching?"

Should he be truthful as Tom hadn't been? Obviously, honesty was especially important to her, but one look at her face, and he knew he couldn't blurt out the fact that he'd been a gambler for the past five years, or that a ruthless, persistent man was looking for him for the money he'd won from him. He couldn't say he was afraid he'd end up dead in San Francisco Bay. He hated that he had to lie to her, so he kept to the truth he could tell her. "Honestly, I was looking for a change, something more to my life, something I've been missing."

She nodded, as if the answer he gave was acceptable, but then her head tilted just a bit and she gazed at him. He noticed that she could give the same look as Teddy. Unflinching, as if it could see into one's soul. Perhaps that's where Teddy got it. She didn't blink, which was a bit intimidating, but there was something else, too, in her beautiful blue-gray eyes. A wish, perhaps. A spark of hope. "I'm sure you know that Oscar responded to Lucy's advertisement."

"Yes, I know." He finished the stew, then took a bite of the chocolate cake, which melted on his tongue, but he never admitted how the knowledge that Oscar was here for the same reason he was made him feel. Whereas he'd never felt love, he had, most certainly, experienced jealousy and any number of other emotions.

"I've read the letter Oscar received from Lucy," she said, when he didn't comment further. "If the letter you received from her was the same as his, it was merely an invitation to meet, perhaps get to know each other better, so why did you say that you hoped you hadn't missed our wedding when we first met?" she asked.

He'd known, eventually, she would ask, but still, he wasn't prepared. If he lied, she would see right through it. Truthfully, he didn't want to do that to her. She didn't deserve it and he already had one lie under his belt, though it was a lie of omission…he didn't want more. His gaze swept over her face. "I saw all the tables set up and the banner on the rose arbor with the words "Forever as one" written in gold, and I knew there had been a wedding, and then…I saw you. I thought—I'm not even sure what I thought at that moment or if I even had a thought at all." He laughed. "All I knew was how lovely you are and that perhaps I'd missed my chance. That perhaps you had married someone else." His gaze drank in all the beauty she possessed. "Have I? Missed my chance."

She shrugged before she stood abruptly and took the tray, then looked at him and smiled, but didn't answer his question. "Good night." And that was it. She walked away, her backside swaying gently, causing her skirt to swing against the top of her boots.

He watched her go and wondered what it might be like to see that sight for the rest of his life.

Evie closed the door and just stood there for a moment, fighting for her equilibrium. The whole time they'd been talking, all she could think about was kissing him again. She felt off-kilter, unsure. And yes, a bit cowardly, which was so unlike her. Why did this man, this stranger, make her feel this way?

"You just going to stand there or are you going to give me that tray?"

Evie faced Hilde. "Yes, yes, of course." But instead of moving toward Hilde at the sink, she strode across the kitchen to the swinging door, the tray firmly in her hands.

"Evie!" Hilde's strident voice cut into the fog in her brain, a fog that seemed thicker than anything she'd ever experienced in San Francisco.

Evie looked down at the tray still in her hands. The heat of embarrassment rushed to her face.

"What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," she said, as she headed toward the sink, where Hilde waited patiently, her hands on her ample hips.

"Hmmm, nothing my foot ." Hilde clicked her tongue as she took the tray. "Your head is in the clouds, liebchen . I have never seen you act like this…except once." The older woman's hazel eyes twinkled with humor as she started taking plates and silverware off the tray and putting them in the sink.

"When? I don't recall that at all."

"A long time ago. I remember a certain young man, a certain Marshal, who turned your head. So much so, you were going to marry him," Hilde said, sympathy flashing in her eyes. "I know how much you loved Tom, but he's gone, liebchen . It's time to open yourself to new possibilities."

Evie nodded and gave her a gentle smile. "Perhaps you're right, Hilde. Perhaps it is time."

Surprised, Hilde stopped wiping off the tray with a washcloth and just looked at her. "Well, that wasn't what I expected."

Evie laughed, equally surprised. "It wasn't what I expected to say, either." She reached out and touched Hilde's arm gently. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to check on the children." She started for the door, then stopped when she saw it opening.

"Ah, Evie, you're here." Antonio entered the kitchen, followed by Uncle Charley and Aunt Felicity. "I think Jake's ready for riding lessons," Antonio announced, as he settled himself at the table and reached for the pot of coffee.

Uncle Charley and Aunt Felicity sat as well. It wasn't long before Hilde joined them.

"That would be fine," she said, her mind still on Hilde's words and the possibilities for a future different than the one she had imagined.

"I'd like for you to do it."

"Of course." She snapped herself to attention, realizing what she'd just agreed to. "Wait, you want me to teach him?"

He exchanged glances with Charley and Felicity, then one with his wife. "I can't think of anyone better."

Evie nodded and let out a sigh, but didn't argue. "I'm going to bed," she said instead, then pushed through the swinging door, grateful to escape Antonio's intense stare and smiling countenance as well as the smothered laughter from Hilde and Uncle Charley.

She grabbed one of the lamps from the table in the hall, struck a match and lit it, then climbed the stairs.

She checked on the children, all sleeping in their beds. Ramón clutched his stuffed lamb, thumb in his mouth, sleeping like an angel. She crept into the room and picked up the light blanket from the floor; he'd kicked it off again. He didn't really need it. This June had been unusually warm, the temperatures higher than normal. Or maybe it was just her. She'd never been particularly bothered by the heat, but the last two weeks, she seemed to be warm all the time. And that wasn't the only thing unusual. When had she become so scatterbrained, unable to complete a thought in her head?

She laid the blanket over the rail of the crib, then headed toward her room. She set the lamp on the dressing table, pushing several ribbons out of the way, then removed some of her clothing. Still in her corset, chemisette, and drawers, she washed her face from the bowl and pitcher on her bureau, dried her skin, then sat at the dressing table. Opening a jar of cream that was supposed to prevent wrinkles, she smoothed it on her face.

She stopped and stared at her reflection. Is that a new wrinkle on my forehead? She ceased frowning and it went away, but of course, it would come back. She put the lid back on the jar and dropped it in the wastebasket. Whatever claim the cream made was a lie. There were still fine lines on her face, especially around her eyes and mouth.

There seemed to be more strands of gray in her hair, too. She'd found her first gray hair when she was thirty and immediately, despite Hilde's warnings, plucked it from her scalp. It hadn't helped. Oh, she didn't have a head full of silver hair, like Antonio, but there was enough to be noticeable. Too noticeable?

Does Jake see an old woman when he looks at me? He is younger than me, maybe not by much, but still? And yet, he kissed me, not once but twice. Granted, the first time was because I asked him, but the second time, he'd done it on his own.

She let out a sigh. All the creams in the world and all the plucking of gray hair wouldn't change the fact that she was, indeed, as Teddy put it, too old. She rose from her seat, tugged on the corset strings, and removed the garment, then slipped out of her chemisette and drawers. Nude, she turned in front of the mirror. She was still slim and trim, muscles defined from riding and working the ranch, belly rounded but not overly so, breasts not quite as perky as when she was young, but not bad for a forty-year-old woman.

She put on a clean cotton nightgown, propped the pillows against the headboard, and slid between the sheets. Grabbing the book from the nightstand, she opened it at the bookmark. She wouldn't sleep until her nephews and their wives were back home and safe, but she could relax with a good story.

After reading the same paragraph for the fourth time and still not comprehending what it said, she put the bookmark back in place and laid the book aside.

She rose from the bed and went to the open French doors that led to a small balcony. From here, she could see all the outbuildings and far off into the distance. Moonlight illuminated the barnyard, casting its glow on everything. She saw Hilde and Antonio walk across the yard to their little house. A flash of light flared in the window before the door closed. Tomorrow Hilde would be back in the kitchen before the sun rose, sometimes before Lucifer even crowed, and soon the aroma of her fine coffee would be wafting through the house. Evie awoke to that smell every morning.

A few minutes later, she heard Uncle Charley and Aunt Felicity come up the stairs and head toward their room at the opposite end of the hall.

Life on the ranch was all about routine and yet, her routine had been shaken.

She looked toward the bunkhouse. What was Jake doing now? Trying to get to sleep? Thinking of her like she was thinking of him? Feeling restless and too warm?

A moment later, the door to the bunkhouse opened and Jake came outside, lanterns in each hand. He set them on the railing of the porch, where they cast a warm glow against the side of the barn. He took off his shirt and tossed it over the stump, then bouncing on the balls of his feet, started throwing punches like he was fighting someone, although there was nothing there except his shadow.

What was he doing?

It didn't matter. She was enthralled by his actions, the grace he exhibited as he pretended to evade punches thrown his way. He moved like a dancer, light on his feet, his hands in constant motion—a jab here, a jab there. It was like watching a carefully choreographed ballet. If he knew she was watching him, he didn't let on. Not once did he look in her direction, which made watching him thrilling, perhaps because it was a little intrusive. She shouldn't be doing it and yet, she rested her hands on the balcony railing and continued to watch him dance and dart and jab. How long she stood there, she had no clue.

And then he stopped and moved toward the barrel that captured the rain from the bunkhouse roof. He dipped his head into the barrel and came up sputtering, flinging water everywhere. Droplets sparkled in the light cast by both the moon and the lanterns shining on him. He washed up, grabbed his shirt, and used it to dry himself off then carefully laid the garment over the porch railing to dry.

He picked up the lanterns, then went inside the bunkhouse and closed the door. Evie let out a sigh as she saw the warm glow from the lantern extinguish, and the bunkhouse windows grow dark. Now she'd never be able to get to sleep and it would be her own fault.

She didn't move from her spot, her hands still gripping the brass railing surrounding the balcony. Was she willing him to come back outside?

Whether she willed it or not, the door to the bunkhouse opened and Jake walked out to the porch. He sat on the chair he'd brought out earlier, leaned back, crossed his legs at the ankles and his arms over his chest…and looked at the house…as if he knew she was there, knew that she'd been watching him the whole time.

She fled inside her room, her entire body flushed with both excitement and embarrassment, hoping he hadn't seen her, but that was impossible. Wasn't it?

Just one more kiss. That's all she wanted. She was a strong, confident woman, had raised her niece and nephews into fine adults. She had built up this ranch, making it one of the most successful in the area when it hadn't been before. Why couldn't she just walk across the barnyard and straight into Jake's arms? What was stopping her?

Nothing. Not a damned thing.

She grabbed her robe and slipped it on then took several steps across the room. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

Just do it, Evie.

Anticipation racing through her, she opened the door then crept down the stairs, heading through the empty kitchen and outside…

Just in time to hear the rattle of the harness, the steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves, and the voices of her nephews and their wives as they drove into the barnyard and stopped at the at the edge of the garden. Evie stood in the doorway, thoroughly disappointed, and turned around. Instead of racing across the barnyard to collect her kiss from Jake, she lit several lanterns, grabbed a bottle of brandy and several snifters from the cabinet, then took a seat at the kitchen table to wait for her nephew's wives to give her the latest news of Lucy and her new house.

It didn't take long before Esmeralda breezed in through the door, followed closely by Jenny and Ana. "Oh, Tia Evie, I'm glad you're still up. The boys are putting the carriage away, but they'll be in in a minute," she announced, as she slid into a chair and dropped her drawstring purse on the table. "We had such a lovely visit with Lucy and Ben!"

"The house looks amazing," Jenny added as she followed suit. "Lucy has it all fixed up so nice. Even Ben's office is taking shape. It won't be long before he can move his practice there. Lucy's very excited about that. So is Ben." She poured a little brandy into the glasses, then passed them around the table.

"And she made the most excellent dinner," Esmeralda said, as she removed her gloves and adjusted the cuffs of her black-and-white town dress. She stuffed the gloves in her drawstring bag. "She cooks almost as well as you, Tia Evie." Her grin widened. "She did burn the rolls though."

"That was our fault," Jenny chuckled, then took a sip of her brandy. "We just kept talking and talking and the next thing we knew, smoke started to billow into the dining room. Well, by that time, the rolls were beyond saving."

"Dinner was lovely without them." Esmeralda said. "Left more room for dessert, which was a chocolate cake so light and fluffy, Hilde would have been jealous."

That surprised Evie. Lucy didn't bake. It's not that she couldn't, she just never had time. She always had other things to do, like take photographs and keep the books. "Lucy baked a cake?"

"No, she bought it from the bakery that just opened up. It's called Sweet Somethings, and the cake was to die for!"

Evie looked around the room and noticed that Ana wasn't with them. "Where did Ana go?"

Jenny frowned. "Probably to her room. She's upset. Her visit with her folks didn't go so well. Her mother is ill and has been for quite some time."

The news both surprised and saddened Evie. "I wasn't aware Mrs. Castillo was ill."

"I don't think it's common knowledge," Esmeralda admitted with a small sigh. "Ana certainly didn't know. She was devastated when she found out. We tried to get her to stay, letting her know you would understand, but she wanted to come back here. Her sisters are there, as well as Mr. Castillo, so Mrs. Castillo isn't alone, but I get the feeling there's more to it than that. Ana didn't want to talk about it, but I could tell she'd been crying when we picked her up."

Sympathetic to Ana's situation, Evie made a mental note to talk to her in the morning. "Tell me more about your visit."

"We met a lovely widower," Esmeralda changed the subject. "Lucy invited him to dinner as well. His name is Ryland Parrish. He's renovating the old Serenity Hotel."

"He's a very nice man." That came from Jenny, who it seemed was all in favor of helping Lucy in her scheme to find a husband for Evie, whether Evie wanted that or not.

"I thought so as well." Esmeralda took a sip of her brandy and peered at Evie over her glass. One of her dark eyebrows rose, as if to imply Mr. Parrish might be considered excellent husband material. "Funny, too, and quite handsome."

Evie said nothing, though she recognized Mr. Parrish's name. Lucy had mentioned it. Considering that this Mr. Parrish had been invited to Lucy's ‘family' dinner, Evie was more than relieved that she hadn't gone. Of course, her niece wasn't above a little more matchmaking, aside from the mail-order husbands she'd already arranged for and been warned to never do again. She was just surprised that it was only one gentleman and not more. There were a number of single men in Serenity she could have invited.

"I hope the children were good for you." Esmeralda reached across the table and laid her hand atop Evie's, startling her out of her thoughts.

Evie smiled. "They're always good for me." She looked up at the clock as she heard the voices of her nephews coming closer to the house, then rose from her seat. If she was going to make an escape before the boys came in and added their opinion about Mr. Parrish, now would be the time. She finished the little bit of brandy left in her glass. "I'm glad you're all home and safe, but I'm going to bed. Good night, ladies."

She left the kitchen just as the back door opened and her boisterous nephews came in, making her escape just in time.