The Parson's Christmas Gift (12 page)

T
he ride back to the ranch was long and cold. Wind howled, announcing another dose of snow. Journey latched the door behind her as she escaped into the warmth of the house. Within the comfortable walls of Miss Rose’s home, she hoped the blizzard would strike quick and hard. With any luck, Hank would be caught off guard and freeze to death in the abandoned shack.

She shook the tiny balls of snow from her coat and hair, hanging the damp coat by the door, and felt a certain sense of relief, knowing she hadn’t killed a man. She wished he weren’t here now, but she was innocent of his death, at least.

“Goodness, girl! Come by the fire and get warm. You’ll catch your death out there,” Miss Rose said. The woman came into the main room from the kitchen using her cane. Her hip must have been bothering her again.

Journey curled up on the davenport after removing her damp boots to dry by the fire. “The snow came up so fast.”

Miss Rose drew her rocker closer and pushed her chair into a gentle sway with the tip of her cane. “That’s the way winter works out here. Everything can change from sunny and warm to downright blizzardlike within a few hours.” Her voice sounded raspy, but she smiled, leaning her head against the high back of the rocker. “It makes me so glad you decided to stay with me this winter.”

“When the wind blows like that, I’m glad to be indoors.” Journey leaned toward Miss Rose. “Are you feeling all right?”

“It’s this winter air getting into my bones. I’ll be all right. How about you?”

Journey plucked a strand of thread from her dress. “What do you mean?”

“How well do you know him?”

“Who?” She jerked her head to the door, as if she’d heard something.

“I hoped you would tell me. Maybe I should ask, is he the man you thought he was?”

Journey edged forward. “No,” she said. “He’s not the man I thought he was. What did Zane tell you?”

“Nothing. He said you’d let us know if there was anything we had to worry about,” Miss Rose said. “So you don’t know that man?”

She breathed deeply and stared at the woman, who had stopped rocking to fasten her tiny round blue eyes on her. “I didn’t say that. I guess no one is really who they seem.”

Miss Rose’s expression said she didn’t agree with that statement. But instead of saying something, she closed her eyes and began to rock, her lips moving slightly. It was strange, not to mention disconcerting, the way the woman would drop suddenly into these silent prayers and pleas.

“I’ll work it out. Don’t worry about me.”

Miss Rose’s eyes snapped open and the rocker stopped. She smiled, that sweet smile that hid the strength of character beneath. “I’m not worrying. And neither can you. God’s looking out for you, dear, whether you want Him to or not. He sent you to me to help you know that.”

“You don’t know what a mess I’ve made of things.”

“I don’t need to,” Miss Rose insisted. “He already does.”

By the end of the week, the air had warmed enough to take Miss Rose into town. They rode without talking, soaking in the bright sun overhead, enjoying the chance to be out-of-doors.

She dropped off Miss Rose at Norwood’s Mercantile for a visit and supplies. When she helped the woman clear the wagon wheel, Miss Rose gripped her arm. “Go on, Journey. I know you’re itching to move about. I’ll be a while.” Miss Rose patted her arm and moved up the steps.

Journey smiled, eager to slip away and stretch her legs. The open spaces gave her a sense of freedom, but towns provided the reality—she couldn’t forget that she wasn’t free, not truly. She walked along the boards pounded into the slush, past the handful of businesses along the main street.

The wind blew, sending a shiver up her spine. She pulled the collar of her coat tightly about her neck and quickened her stride.

“I wondered when you’d make it into town.”

She stopped at the gruff voice at her ear. “What do you want, Hank?”

“Darlin’,” he said, snatching her hand into his own, “I thought I made that clear. This seems like the perfect opportunity for you to introduce me around town. Let’s go.”

She tugged her fingers free. Doc Ferris caught her eye and nodded a greeting as he walked by. She forced a smile in return and ducked her head. “Not now, Hank. Don’t worry, I’ll set things up. Give me some time to make the arrangements.”

Hank bowed his long frame over her and she shrunk back. “There aren’t any arrangements to be made. We’ll go back to that quaint little shop, and you can announce your good fortune in meeting your cousin Hank in this speck of a town. What are the odds, really?”

“It would be best if—”

Hank laughed outright. “My dear, we both know you were never the thinker in this relationship. We’ll do this my way.”

She jerked as he whispered in her ear. “We wouldn’t want your friends to suffer because you denied them a chance to cash in on a valuable business venture, right?”

She swung back but couldn’t break his hold on her wrist. Grinding her teeth, she struggled, then relaxed before her tears fell. “I’ll introduce you, but that’s it, Hank. I can’t lie to these people.”

His heavy hand pushed her ahead. She stumbled but caught herself and tilted her chin as she walked on.

“That’s it, Maura,” he whispered. “Always the proud one. You just concern yourself with my presentation. We’ll discuss how deep your commitment is to this deal as we go along.”

He threw an arm around her shoulders, and she stiffened with memories. “It’ll be like the old days, Beautiful. Who knows? We were always looking for that one big strike. Maybe this is it. A new beginning for us.”

“There is no
us,
Hank. Not now, not ever. The only big strike I looked for was the next one coming from your fist. No, if I do this for you, we’re through. For good this time.” She strode ahead, wrapping her arms around herself. A few introductions, and she’d be rid of Hank Baines for good.

Zane watched the door. He had felt twitchy ever since Miss Rose walked in without Journey at her side. Ten minutes passed, fifteen—he slid from the counter where he sat and picked up his coat.

He breathed deeply when the door opened and Journey finally poked her head through. The bell jangled in announcement. But the ease lasted only until he saw the dark form saunter in behind her.

Zane caught Journey’s glance as her brown eyes flickered around the room, and she started when she saw him. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Miss Rose broke the silence. “You’re back sooner than I expected, Journey.”

The tall man standing behind her stepped forward. “Excuse her, ma’am. I believe she’s in shock. We’re just so surprised—”

“Journey?” Zane stepped closer, reaching for her.

She gestured toward Hank. “I—I’d like to, to introduce Hank Baines.”

Zane’s stomach clenched. “You know him?”

The tall man stepped forward, tucking long black hair behind his ear and stretching a hand toward Zane. “I’m Miss Smith’s—”

“Old family acquaintance,” Journey filled in.

Excited questions hummed through the store as Abby and Miss Rose swarmed Journey. Zane straightened his shoulders and took the offered hand. The man’s mustache twitched and he glanced around the mercantile with a look that reminded Zane of a rabid wolf he’d tracked years ago. Cunning. Cold.

“Fortunate you should meet Journey here. Are you just passing through?” he asked.

Baines stroked his mustache. Zane wondered if he checked it to be sure it hadn’t fallen off. “I’m here on business. It was sheer luck that put Journey in my path this day.”

Zane wondered whose luck he meant. “I see. And how are you acquainted?”

Silence echoed as the women quieted. Zane stared at the man but felt similar stares from Abby and Miss Rose aimed in Hank’s direction. Journey bowed her head behind Hank, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’ve known her family for years,” he said. “I’ve been in a position to help Journey on a number of occasions. Why, most folk assumed we’d be married by now.” He chuckled. “But I think of her as my younger sister. I hope you’ll consider me part of her family.” Hank stretched back and grabbed Journey, pulling her to his side. Zane tried to catch her eye, but she stared at the other women and held herself away from his embrace.

“I’m sure Journey will be glad to have a familiar face here. What a shame you missed her when you stopped by the ranch for directions,” Zane said.

A dark look crossed Hank’s face, gone as fast as it’d come. “Why, to think that we might have been reunited all that much sooner!” Hank squeezed her shoulder, holding her like a possession under his control.

Not if he could help it, Zane thought. “Where will you be staying?”

Miss Rose raised her gloved hand. “You’re welcome to bed down in the loft of my barn.”

“He’ll stay with me,” Zane said.

Miss Rose quirked her eyebrow at him, but there was no way he would let Baines stay with them out there alone.

“My,” Baines said. “So kind of you all to offer. But, as I am here on business, I’ll be staying out at the old Allen homestead.”

“That place has been abandoned for years,” Abby said. “Deplorable condition.”

“True. But I own it now, so it’s no longer abandoned, and I’m well-satisfied to stay there.” Hank spoke to Abby, but his gaze didn’t waver from Zane’s.

“That’s a large parcel,” Zane said. “How’d you come by that?”

Hank smirked, hugging Journey. “An unusually boring chain of events, I assure you.”

“Well, tell us all about it when you come for supper Friday night.” Miss Rose made the offer before Zane could stop her.

Hank hadn’t stepped out of the shadows long enough for Miss Rose to recognize him from Thanksgiving. It was the only reason Zane could think of for her to make such an offer. But couldn’t she feel the tension in Journey?

“How kind. I welcome the opportunity,” Hank said. He pressed his lips to Journey’s head. “I’ll see you Friday, then. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he added, bowing to the ladies and nodding to Zane, “I must get back to my property. Journey, my dear, I can’t tell you how glad I am to have found you out here after all this time.”

Journey didn’t acknowledge Hank’s departure with anything more than a slight stoop of her frame. Zane slipped closer and laid a hand on her shoulder, softly, fearing she would bolt and run. He stared at her and noticed how her hair kinked tightly on either side of her part, regardless of how tightly she pulled it into the low chignon at her neck.

A strong yearning to lean in and kiss her bent head, as Hank Baines had done moments ago, possessed him. Instead, Zane squared his shoulders and dropped his hand to squeeze her wrist.

Journey peered at him as if she were waking from some strange dream. Her eyebrows curled and tears glazed her eyes, and she blinked hard and turned. “I’ll wait for you in the wagon, Miss Rose,” she said, walking out the door.

Zane laid a hand on the older woman’s shoulder to keep her from giving chase. “I’ll go. You finish up here.” From the expression on her face, he’d surprised her as much as he had himself.

Did he have any business stepping in? Journey had made it plain she didn’t want his help. But that was before Baines made an appearance. Before she was more wary of someone else than she was of him.

Zane stopped short at the door. “Oh, and, Miss Rose—”

“I’ll see you Friday evening as well, Zane.”

He leaned down to kiss her tiny gray head. “I’ll see you Friday evening, then. I hope you’re making chicken. You know it’s my favorite.”

Journey knew he would follow. Not Miss Rose, not Abby, but Zane. She squeezed the reins and stared ahead, trying to control her breath. The smell of Hank filled her senses, and she rubbed her nose with the back of her palm.

Zane stayed on the sidewalk for a few moments, and Journey wondered if he waited for his sake or hers. She heard him walk toward her, knowing the easy, sure movements of his broad frame. He was nothing like Hank.

She stiffened at the thought. Could that be? She’d been so fooled by Hank in the beginning. His concern had seemed real, but now she knew everything he’d done for her had benefited him in some way.

But Zane had nothing to gain, and his offer of help would only cost him. Yet he wanted to do something. She’d seen it in his eyes in the store. It’s the only reason he’d be standing here now. Journey kept her glance strained forward, willing Miss Rose to join her so they could go back to the ranch.

“Journey?” Zane’s voice was low, quiet.

She couldn’t look at him. “Does Miss Rose need help loading her things?”

“She’ll be out in a minute,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

Journey slid away from him on the springboard. She breathed in, trapping the cold air in her lungs and wishing the stale scent of Hank’s cigar didn’t cling to her clothing.

Zane said nothing for a full minute. She scratched her knuckles. “Is there something you wanted?”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Pardon?”

The wagon creaked and she turned. Zane leaned a shoulder on the high side of the box, facing forward. “Strong coincidence, running into your old friend in a place like Walten.”