Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

S omething tugged Patience from sleep, and she squinted in the dim light of her room. Had she overslept? Sunlight shone through the window curtains.

A muffled shout sounded from the main room. As she pushed herself up on one elbow, the words became clearer.

"—should've sent me instead! I would've made sure it got done right." That was Miles' voice, loud and angry. She'd never heard him like that before. It shouldn't surprise her though. He was a man, after all.

"You think you're the only one who can handle stock?" Jericho's tone matched his brother's. "I could've done it if you'd let me."

Gilead said something too low for her to make out.

Patience slipped out of bed and padded to the door, cracking it open to peer into the main room. The three brothers stood in a tense triangle, faces flushed and eyes flashing.

"I'm the oldest. It's my responsibility to take care of things." Jericho spoke through gritted teeth.

"And look how well that turned out," Miles shot back. "Half the herd scattered to God knows where. "

"It wasn't half the herd," Jericho growled.

The front door opened, and all three men turned to see who would enter. Jonah stepped inside.

Miles waved a hand at him. "And that's another problem around here."

Jonah's head jerked back, his eyes widening.

Miles pushed on. "How could you leave our brother in Missoula Mills? You were in such an all-fired hurry to get back here, as if that redhead couldn't have waited a couple more days. But you just got all swoony-eyed over her and didn't care a wit about Sampson. For all we know, he might be dead now. Killed in a barroom fight or who knows what else."

Jonah's wide eyes had narrowed, and he stood by the closed door, his hands braced at his hips. When Miles finished, Jonah strode forward, his long legs bringing him up close to his youngest brother. "You'd better keep a civil tongue, boy. If you ever speak of Patsy as anything other than Miss Whitman, I'll take you out back and teach you some manners with Dat's belt just like I used to. And Sampson's fine. He's got more sense than you, that's sure an' certain."

Patience eased out a breath. Jonah had stood up for her. She might not like the raised voices, but at least his had been raised in her defense. That didn't usually happen.

Gilead moved toward them. "Settle down, all o' ya. We've got strays to find."

Jericho raked a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. His gaze flicked to the side and locked with Patience's through the crack in the door. A flash of annoyance touched his eyes before he turned away. "I'll head out now, see if I can't round up them strays afore they wander too far off." He reached for his hat.

"I'll come with you," Gilead said.

"No." Jericho's reply brooked no argument. "You go with Miles and Sean to work the two-year-olds. Jude needs Jonah today. I'll manage on my own." He strode out, letting the door bang shut behind him.

Miles kicked at a chair leg, muttering under his breath. Gilead just sighed, suddenly looking much older than his young years. He was younger than Patience, she was almost sure of it.

As the men turned and left the cabin, she eased her door closed. By the time she'd dressed and pinned up her hair, the knot in her middle had almost eased. That argument felt too much like how her father used to speak to people—her especially. Always berating.

Then with Michael. He wasn't always cross, mostly just when he'd started drinking for the day. Drinking and gambling went together, so there was rarely a day he didn't imbibe.

She let out a sigh and stepped from her chamber into the main room. Dinah and Lillian worked near the cookstove.

Patience approached them, schooling her features into a pleasant expression. "Good morning. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Dinah glanced over at her, a bright smile lighting her face. As though there hadn't just been a tense argument right here in her house. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Patience dipped her chin. "I did. How can I help you here?"

Dinah turned to pour batter into a frying pan. "Would you set plates and forks on the table? These johnny cakes will be ready soon."

"Of course." Patience moved to the shelf where the plates were kept. As she pulled them down, she searched for a way to broach her question. "I couldn't help overhearing the disagreement earlier. Is everything all right? The men sounded upset."

Dinah sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she stirred a pot of oats over the fire. "Jericho heard a wildcat last night, so he went out to check the cattle this morning. I guess the herd got spooked and scattered. The boys are worried about them is all. And about Sampson too. Tempers can flare when folks are afraid for the people they love."

Love. The word echoed in her mind. The Coulter family seemed to truly care for one another, but love was not a concept she associated with men. At least not the men in her life. Her father's love —if one could call it that—had been as hard and unyielding as his fists. And Michael...well, she'd mistaken his flattery and attention for love, only to discover too late the depths of his selfishness.

But Jonah had defended her honor just now. Stood up to his own brother for speaking ill of her. Perhaps there were different kinds of love in this world. Ones she had yet to understand.

"Lillian, would you get another bucket of water for us? We'll need a second pot of coffee." Dinah's smooth voice had a calming effect that seemed to settle the tension that lingered in the room.

Lillian headed toward the door, pail in hand. As she stepped outside, the sound of a male voice drifted through the open door.

"Careful with that bucket, girl! I just had to make new handles for two of 'em, and now I know why they keep breaking." Miles' tone was sharp and critical.

Patience sucked in a breath and set the remaining plates on the table. He was the youngest of the Coulter brothers, but he'd likely witnessed this kind of berating behavior from the older men and thought it acceptable. Well, she would show him otherwise.

She strode purposefully to the door. She would give Miles a piece of her mind, even if she was a visitor here. But as she stepped out into the bright morning sunlight, she paused. Lillian stood straight and tall, the bucket hanging easily from her small hand as she stared Miles down with a defiant tilt to her chin.

"I know how to carry a bucket, Uncle Miles." Her voice was calm but firm. "Mama taught me well. I'll thank you not to speak to me that way."

Miles blinked, taken aback by the young girl's self-assured response. He opened his mouth as if to retort, then seemed to think better of it. With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the barn.

Pride swelled in Patience's chest as she watched Lillian march to the side of the house where the water wagon was parked, her blonde braid swinging with each determined step. The girl had a strength in her, a quiet resilience that Patience recognized all too well. It was the same fortitude that had seen her through countless hardships in her own life.

Lillian would need it, for men were all the same. Maybe Jonah was different, but she couldn't stay here much longer and let Anna be subjected to the rest of the men here who couldn't control their tempers.

J onah paused in the kitchen doorway, a load of firewood filling one arm as he took in the sight before him.

Patsy and Lillian stood side by side at the cookstove, their heads bent together in concentration as Lillian showed Patsy how to adjust the damper. Golden light from the oil lamp cast a warm glow over their faces, making Patsy's red hair shimmer enough to catch his breath. The sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar filled the air, which seemed just the right scent to surround Patsy. She sure was a pretty thing, with those rich green eyes.

He moved closer, and both ladies looked up. Patsy's expression softened into a soft smile that looked like it was meant just for him. Maybe he was fooling himself, but every part of him came to life when she was near.

Maybe he should've kissed her the other night by the woodshed. But that startled look in her eyes had clinched something inside him. Part of her might have wanted his kiss, but there was a piece in her that still hadn't learned to trust him. So many men had let her down through the years, abusing her innocent trust, turning on her when she needed them most. He wouldn't do the same to her, not for anything in the world.

He closed the distance to the kitchen area, and the women stepped away from the cookstove to give him access.

He added more wood to the firebox, causing a log inside to shift. Sparks tumbled out like a waterfall, and he jumped back as they scattered across the floor. He stomped on them, but a couple weren't so easy extinguished

He'd seen how fast a fire could catch, and he wasn't taking any chances.

A water bucket sat nearby, a cloth draped over the top. He jerked the fabric off so he could douse the sparks with water.

As he lifted the cloth, bright flames flared to life, hungrily licking at the fabric. One of the sparks must've popped up.

A scream sounded behind him.

No reason to panic. He had it under control. He dropped the cloth and stomped out the fire, but another spark had lit the braided rug.

He was about to dump the water onto it when he glanced inside, just to be sure.

Not water but grease!

He jerked it back, whirling to get it away from the flames before it exploded like blasting powder.

Jericho rushed past him into the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he stomped out the remaining flames.

Jonah didn't stop until he'd carried the bucket out of the cabin and several more steps away. He set it down in the grass, pausing to catch his breath. His heart hammered as the adrenaline faded .

That had been a close call. If that grease had caught fire...

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to see Jericho striding out of the cabin. "Trying to burn the place down again, little brother?" He was teasing, but his words soured in Jonah's stomach. "This sturdy house wouldn't have burned as fast as that outhouse did."

Did he really have to bring that up? Every time a spark blew the wrong direction, Jericho reminded him of that childhood offense. He'd been seven, for crying out loud.

Behind Jericho, Patsy was framed in the doorway, concern etched on her face.

Shame heated his neck. He lowered his gaze and moved around his brother. Best get in and see what the damage was. Hopefully nothing worse than a layer of black to scrub off the floor.

As he stepped into the house, Patsy moved outside, her skirts swishing past him. Where was she headed?

He turned just inside the doorway to see what she was doing. She looked like a woman with something on her mind.

She planted herself in front of Jericho with her hands on her hips. "And just why would you say a thing like that? Accidents happen. Jonah put out the fire before Lillian or I knew what was happening, and he wasn't the one who left a bucket of grease right next to the stove. Seems to me he handled it just fine."

Jonah stared at Patsy's rigid back, warmth flooding his chest. Here she was, standing up to his brother on his behalf. Defending him.

He couldn't recall the last time someone had done that.

Lillian stood beside him, taking in the stand-off in the yard.

"Uh…" Jericho didn't seem to know how to answer her. He ran a hand behind his neck. "I didn't mean to offend, ma'am."

Wow. She'd gotten to him if he was calling her ma'am.

"It's just a joke. Something we've always ribbed him about."

"Well." The sharp line of Patsy's shoulders eased, and when she spoke, her voice gentled. "It seems like scratching at a sore again and again for years would make it hard to heal."

A sudden burn clogged Jonah's throat, especially when Jericho turned and caught him standing there. He had to fight to keep from edging back into the shadows. She was right, though. That wound hadn't ever healed, not really.

Maybe if he'd stood up for himself way back when like she was standing up for him now, he wouldn't still be carrying that sting of shame.

But even as a boy, he'd never been one for confrontation. He'd always figured it was better to just let things go, not make waves. Keep the peace.

Looking at Patience, Jericho cleared his throat. "I suppose you have a point." He turned to Jonah once more, stepping to the base of the stoop. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean to burn down the outhouse. And I know you didn't mean to let those sparks out just now. I shouldn't have heckled you about it, not ever." He swallowed. "Will you forgive me?"

Those were hard words to say, but Jericho spoke with an earnestness that left no doubt he meant them.

Jonah nodded. "Of course." Though he knew well saying he'd forgive and doing it were two different things.

Jericho turned to Patsy then, and made a motion like he was pretending to doff his hat, though he wasn't wearing one. "Thank you, ma'am, for calling me out." He met Patsy's gaze squarely. "I love my brothers. My whole family. The last thing I'd want to do is hurt them. I appreciate you seeing what I didn't and righting the wrong."

Beside Jonah, Lillian let out a sigh. "My word, that woman can work miracles."

He'd missed Patsy's response to Jericho, but it appeared to have been trivial. He sent his niece a smile. "You're right there." Though he'd been part of the interchange just now, he still wasn't certain it had really happened. Patsy had stood up for him, and his brother had actually apologized.

Lillian sent him a knowing smile. "Aren't you glad now that you didn't marry Naomi?"

Jonah's breath caught, and he nearly reached out to clamp a hand over the girl's mouth. She'd already spoken the words though—loudly.

Her eyes rounded as she realized she'd said something that might not be common knowledge.

It took all his courage to turn and see if Patsy had heard.

She stood on the stoop, her gaze shifting from Lillian to him. Should he explain?

He'd not told her about Naomi, about how close he'd come to marrying her, how the cabin he was nearly finished building had been intended to house her and Mary Ellen after the wedding. But when Eric had shown up, Mary Ellen's father and her true love, she'd chosen Eric, a decision Jonah had known was right even at the time.

That knowledge hadn't lessened the sting of rejection. He'd been set aside the moment someone better came along.

Now, if there was to be anything between himself and Patsy, any chance of something real and true, he needed to tell her everything.

But what if she judged him for nearly marrying a woman he didn't love? Or what if she started to look for all the reasons Naomi had changed her mind before their wedding day? The thought made his stomach twist. His errors were plenty, and Patsy would find them easily enough. He was impulsive, stubborn, occasionally moody. His family judged him as less dependable than his brothers, no matter how hard he worked on the ranch and in the mine. He still even had a bit of a limp from when that wagon had run over him two years back.

Yep, Patsy was sure to find all the reasons he didn't measure up.

Even so, he had to tell her the truth, give her the chance to reject him now before he let himself get too attached.

"Well," Lillian said in what had probably been too long a silence. "Best get the floor swept, then we need to finish those cinnamon crisps. We'll have a bunch of hungry people for dinner soon, so we don't have much time left."

She motioned for Patsy to follow her back to the cooking area of the main room. Patsy gave him a quick glance as she passed by.

He didn't miss the questions in her eyes.

Maybe he could pull her aside tonight so they could talk. It was time he was honest with her. About everything.