Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

J onah brushed a hand over the rough-hewn logs of his new cabin, the wood still fresh with the scent of pine. He and Patsy had only reached the ranch a few hours ago, and he'd come to inspect his cabin the first chance he could.

The rustle of footsteps in the grass sounded from the doorway, and he spun. His first instinct was to look for Patsy—maybe because she'd been lingering in his thoughts—but he'd left her settled at the main house with Anna and a few of the other women.

Jericho appeared in the open doorway, his wide shoulders filling the space as he paused to take in Jonah and the shell of the cabin Jonah had worked so hard on. Jericho always had such a commanding presence. Even a stranger would never doubt he was the elder brother, in charge on this ranch, even in a cabin that wasn't his.

Jonah glanced around the place, doing his best to see it through his brother's eyes. It almost looked like a home. He just needed to add the floor and chink the logs, and he'd be ready to move in. Well, he wouldn't have furniture yet, but it would only be him, so that didn't matter much. He'd rather bed down on wooden planks in his own home than keep sleeping in a bunkhouse like a hired hand.

Jericho glanced around, then ambled closer to Jonah. "Where's Sampson?"

Jonah cringed at the question. So much had happened with Patsy. That woman was enough to consume a fellow's waking thoughts with worries over her. But Sampson—and knowing he'd left him back in Missoula Mills—had never been far from Jonah's mind.

He turned to the corner and inspected a joint as though there were a flaw in it. "Had some things to do in Missoula. Said he'll come when he's ready. Probably a few more days."

Jonah didn't have to be looking to feel the weight of Jericho's disapproval hanging thick in the air. His oldest brother had come a long way from those days when he'd kept outsiders away from their ranch at gunpoint—and kept their family in with similar determination. But he'd put Jonah in charge of Sampson on their trip to take the necklace to convince Patsy. Jericho probably considered him leaving the lad behind as failing.

But Sampson was no longer a youth.

Jericho was the eldest of the boys in their family, but not the oldest child. Lucy had had that honor.

Swallowing the sting that still came with her memory, Jonah met Jericho's gaze and forced his voice to be strong and level. "Sampson's a grown man now. Nineteen. He knows the trail back. He said he would be along in a few days."

Jericho gave a single nod. Worry clouded his expression, but maybe he wouldn't voice it.

As the moment of quiet stretched, Jericho toed the ground with his boot. "So what're you gonna do with this woman? Anna's aunt?"

Not that it was his place to do anything with her, but Jonah couldn't deny that he'd been skirting around the topic in his own mind. They'd all wanted to find Anna's aunt and reunite the two. But what now? Did they want her to take Anna and be on her way?

Alone?

He couldn't help but remember the scoundrel who'd attacked her. What if Jonah hadn't been there to protect her? What if she'd been alone with Anna in the woods? What would have become of the two of them?

No, they couldn't just…just send them off.

Everything in him revolted at the thought.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't rightly know. I found her and brought her back. I reckon I've done my part."

Jericho studied him, his gaze piercing in the fading daylight that filtered through the cabin door. "You sure about that? Seems to me there might be more to it, the way you look at her."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, but heat crept up his neck. He walked to the back wall, rubbing his fingers along a log's surface. Had Patsy thought he was ogling her? Had he been? No, of course not. Just… Well, he couldn't help but notice her. She wasn't exactly repulsive, after all. "She's Anna's kin, that's all. Not my concern beyond that."

"If you say so, little brother." Jericho's words held too much skepticism. "Just be careful. I doubt she's planning to hang around."

But perhaps, with the right motivation…

He had no idea what she planned. Would she take Anna back to Missoula Mills? Surely not. Anna would be better off staying with Naomi and Eric than spending days and nights hanging around a saloon.

Maybe Patsy would consider…

But he was a fool to even think it. She was a woman with her own mind. And he had a poor record when it came to convincing women to stay for him. He wasn't aching to go through that pain again.

Jonah turned toward the door. "We best be getting back. Supper will be on the table soon."

They trudged in silence to the main house. The aroma of roasted venison and freshly baked bread wafted out to greet them as they neared the cabin. Jonah's stomach rumbled.

Inside, Dinah, Angela, Naomi, and Lillian were setting the last dishes on the long trestle table. Patsy stood uncertainly to one side, her green eyes wide as she took in the flurry of activity. When she noticed Jonah, relief eased over her face.

Something inside him sprang to life at that expression. Maybe a little pleasure that she saw him as safe. Maybe a little sadness that she didn't feel comfortable around his family. Mostly though, a protectiveness that made him want to slip an arm around her and pull her close. Let her know that she didn't always have to show a brave front. She could rely on others—him—to help when she didn't feel comfortable.

He approached her, acutely aware of Jericho watching. "Everything all right?" he asked in a low voice.

She nodded, but the tension in her shoulders told him otherwise. "I'm just… I'm not used to all this," she whispered, her gaze darting around the room. "It's been a long time since I was part of a…family gathering." The way she said family put a bit of longing in the word.

Jonah's heart twisted at the wistfulness in her tone. He knew what it was like to feel like an outsider, even among one's own kin. Impulsively, he touched the small of her back. "You'll do just fine. We might as well take our seats."

He'd not known where to seat Patsy, but Dinah, smiling at their guest, pointed at the chair next to his usual spot. "Sit there. Anna will be beside you." It made sense that Patsy should sit beside her niece. And she should be next to him too. He knew her better than anyone else here, having traveled with her .

But did Dinah, like Jericho, think Jonah was attracted to her? Probably. They were married, and he could just picture the two gossiping about him.

The thought of his big brother brought a grin.

It didn't last, though. Did they really see that?

How could they have when he had no idea how he felt about this woman? Other than protective. Something about her made him want to show her she didn't have to always be so brave and capable and self-sufficient.

She could trust people sometimes. She could let her guard down now and again. She'd done that with him, during their trip up the mountain, and with Anna, when she'd hugged her niece.

But that protective wall was firmly back in place now. He watched his family bump up against it throughout the meal. Her polite expressions, the way she dodged and deflected questions. But somehow, she still trusted Jonah, watching him from the corner of her eye and taking her cues from his actions.

He tried to draw her into the conversation, hoping to set her at ease.

After the meal ended, he turned to her. "Do you want to go down to the barn and check on our horses? Make sure they're settled in all right for the night?" The horses were fine, of course. Miles would have seen to that. But Jonah needed to talk to Patsy alone, away from the curious gazes of his family.

Patsy's green eyes searched his face, maybe for his true reason for taking her outside. "That's a good idea."

When they stepped out into the cool evening air, the tension drained from his shoulders. Out here he could breathe easier. Think clearer.

As they walked, he studied her profile, the way the moonlight caught in her fiery hair. "Is everything all right? I know it's a lot to take in, being here with all of us."

She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. "It's not just that. It's Anna." She paused so long, it seemed she might not finish the thought. Then the last words slipped out. "I don't think she likes me very much."

P atience had admitted the truth. Something about this man nudged down her barriers and left her wanting to tell him things that made her too vulnerable. She'd vowed to never let a man have that kind of sway over her again.

Jonah stopped walking and faced her, his blue eyes full of concern. "What makes you say that? Did something happen?"

She shook her head, not wanting to go into details. "It's nothing specific. Just a feeling I get. Like she resents me being here, disrupting her life." Patience's chest tightened as she spoke the words aloud. Anna was the only family she had left. The thought that she might not want her was painful. She'd felt that way too often with her father.

"I'm sure that's not true." Jonah's voice was gentle. He squeezed her shoulder, the warmth of his touch seeping through her shirt. "This is all new for her too. Give her some time to adjust. She's been through a lot."

Patience blinked back the tears that threatened. He was right, of course. She couldn't expect Anna to welcome her without reservation, not when they barely knew each other. Not when Patience represented another upheaval in her life.

Jonah stared up into the cloudy night sky. "I remember how hard it was after my sister left, and I was nearly a grown man. I didn't know what to say to anyone. I tried to cover up how much I missed her."

Even now, a tinge of pain wove through his tone.

She couldn't help asking more. "What happened to her?"

"Lucy was the oldest." He shrugged as if it didn't matter, but it was clear in his expression she'd mattered a lot to him. "She met a man in Missoula Mills. A good-for-nothing miner who took her off to Virginia City. After the children were born, he got sick and died. Then she took ill a couple years ago."

His voice had lost all hint of emotion, stating mere facts. Lucy must have been important to him. What could Patience say to help, or at least show she understood? "It must have been hard to lose her."

Maybe he would think she meant at Lucy's passing, but it sounded like he'd really lost her when she'd chosen a miner over this brother who must have adored her.

Her throat ached with that too-familiar feeling.

As the youngest, Hannah had always been the chosen daughter in their family.

"She was special." His voice was strained as he looked at her. "She took the time to really see a person. To understand there's more than what you'd find on the surface. She always saw the good in people, even when it wasn't there."

A rueful smile tugged his lips. "When I was seven, I accidentally started a fire in our outhouse. I knocked over a lantern, and the whole thing just…poof… went up in flames. My brothers—even my pa—they ribbed me something fierce about it. But Lucy, she always stood up for me. Seemed to always see me , not just the things I did or the ways I messed up."

The image Patience's mind formed of that little seven-year-old made her want to reach out and pull him in. This man—so strong and capable—was still that boy, deep down. He needed someone to see through his tough exterior and understand the man inside.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I'm glad you had her."

"Me too." He sighed. "What about you? Did you have someone like that?"

She shook her head, not gazing into the dark forest but at him. "If I had, I might not have landed in the mess I did."

More than she intended to admit. She crossed her arms over her chest. She had no desire to talk about her past and her poor choices.

Yet, as she dared meet his eyes, the way he was looking at her—probably the same way his sister had looked at him—made her want to tell her story. Maybe he wouldn't judge her for the things she'd done and the decisions she'd made. Maybe he'd understand why she'd done those things. Maybe he'd at least try.

She took a breath for courage. "My father always saw fault in me. It was…hard to grow up knowing everything I did would be berated or criticized. My sister could do no wrong. As soon as I could get away, I did.

"I was barely old enough to marry, but I met a man who swept me off my feet. A gambler. My family disapproved, of course, especially my father. No matter who I'd chosen—or who'd chosen me, Papa would've disapproved." Any man who wanted Patience must be flawed. But she didn't say that aloud. "He told me I could never make a marriage with Michael work."

Jonah's expression so warm and earnest, giving her the strength to go on.

"Of course, Papa's lack of faith in us—in me—only made me more determined to prove him wrong. I married Michael, much to my family's dismay, and at first, things were wonderful. He was charming and attentive, treating me like I was the only woman in the world. We lived on riverboats, where the gambling was good every single night. I learned his tricks. He taught me to shoot…really well." Those had been good days, back when she'd still believed in marriage. In them. "I thought if I could just be a part of his world, support him in what he did, it would be enough to make our marriage strong."

She breathed out the tension in her chest. "It didn't. The gambling led to his downfall in the end. He was playing a game one night when another man accused him of cheating. The man…he shot Michael right there. Then he turned on me, said I' d better pay up all the money Michael had supposedly stolen from him the night before."

A shudder slid down her spine at the memory. The glint of the gun in the lamplight. The acrid scent of gunpowder and blood. The rage and accusation in the man's eyes.

"If not for the barkeep, who tackled the killer, I'd be dead. I ran. Thank God, we were at port. But I'd been around that life long enough to know that the guy, even if there were a lawman around to arrest him, would probably be released within a couple of hours." Her throat ached, but she forced out the words. " I found a place to hide, then took the first opportunity to head west, to get as far from that murderer as possible. Just in case he was serious about making me pay that debt."

Jonah studied her. "Why west? Why didn't you go home?"

She raised her brows. "And prove my father right?" But she sighed. "Honestly, I probably would've, except I was afraid he'd find me. I figured he'd be less likely to follow me into the wilds of Montana than back to Boston."

Jonah took her hand, his calloused fingers warm and strong around hers. "Is that why you were so suspicious of me when we first met?"

She nodded, blinking back the tears that had welled up. "I thought you might be working for him. I'm sorry I doubted you."

He squeezed her hand. "No reason to apologize. You were protecting yourself the only way you knew how. I understand that."

She searched his face, seeing the truth of his words etched there. He did understand. More, she thought, than anyone else ever had. He knew what it was to be judged for the surface of things, for the mistakes and missteps. He knew what it was to need someone to look deeper, to see the true heart beneath.

Just as Lucy had done for him, he now did for her. Offering her the gift of being seen. Of being known.

It was almost too much to take in. She had to look away, deep into the woods, drawing in a shaky breath.

"You know you're safe here, Patsy. Right? We won't let anyone hurt you, no matter who comes."

Safe. The word felt foreign, unfamiliar. When was the last time she had truly felt safe? She couldn't remember.

But as she turned to meet his gaze, the determination there wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Maybe, just maybe…he was right.