Lady Outlaw (16 page)

Jennie set down her bucket and knelt in front of him. She looked as though she might touch his arm, but she lowered her hand back to her side just as quickly.

“Is that what you were dreaming about—that night on the range?” she asked.

He nodded. Her eyes were almost on the same level as his and he found himself gazing into those dark depths. He hadn’t told anyone his reason for quitting his job as a bounty hunter, not even his parents. What was it about Jennie that made him share it with her?

“You’re a good man, Caleb.”

He shrugged off her compliment. If he’d truly been a good man back then, he wouldn’t have let hatred and vengeance rule his life so completely. The death of that bandit had brought him up short and helped him find God again, find greater peace with Liza’s death.

“I’m trying—just like all of us. Going to church helps a lot.”

Jennie stood and hoisted the water bucket. “In that case, maybe I’d better go with you this Sunday,” she said in a rush, her eyes focused on the dirt at her feet.

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

She banged his leg with the bucket, sloshing water onto his boot. “Don’t act so surprised or I might change my mind.”

Climbing to his feet, Caleb smiled. “So you coming or not?”

“I’ll go,” she said, returning his smile. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

He laughed at hearing his own words turned against him. Jennie walked away and Caleb placed his wood back on the block. He whistled a tune as he added to the woodpile, feeling happier than he’d been in a long time.

* * *

After dressing with care in her new brown silk, Jennie stepped out of the house Sunday morning to go to church with the family. The nerves in her stomach nearly made her bolt upstairs and hide in her room, but Caleb was sure to drag her back outside, even kicking and screaming.

She fiddled with her hands, her skirt, her fingernails the entire ride into town, her anxiety too great to make conversation with Caleb and her family. Thankfully the others seemed to understand the source of her quiet and didn’t press her to talk.

Would the people at church remember her—or worse, her mother? Would they accept Jennie as readily as they’d accepted her brother and grandmother? As the church came into sight, Jennie struggled to breathe normally.

“You look real nice in your dress,” Caleb said when he helped her down from the wagon. He extended his elbow to her, and after a brief hesitation, she linked her arm through his.

She kept her chin up in feigned confidence as she took a seat beside Caleb and the family in one of the middle pews. The meeting started soon after, and Jennie found her jitters returning full force. Could she make it through the entire meeting? She chewed her thumbnail as the opening hymn started. Caleb nudged her with his shoulder and pointed at her mouth. She flushed and dropped her hand to her lap, but she was still too filled with nervous energy to sing.

When it was time for the pastor to speak, Jennie sat up straight and tried to concentrate. But as he entreated the congregation to love their neighbors, she felt a flash of irritation. As if any of the people here had showed any love or concern for her family in the past few years. They’d all but forgotten the Joneses.

Turning her head, she stole glances at those across the aisle from her. Several of the families were familiar. A few stared back, suspicion plain on their faces. Most of those who met her eye, though, did so with curious but friendly expressions.

At last the pastor finished his sermon and announced the final hymn, one of her father’s favorites. The throaty tones of the small organ filled the room as a middle-aged woman rose to lead the group in song. Caleb extended an open hymnal toward her, and Jennie took the other end. Their fingers touched beneath the book before they both scooted their hands to the outside edges.

This time she sang along with the rest of the congregation, enjoying Caleb’s deep baritone and her grandmother’s sweet soprano. The music and the singing rose in volume with each verse, and something inside Jennie responded.

A feeling of love and warmth began at her heart and spread outward, reminding her of the way she’d felt when her father would sing or play his harmonica for them at night. How she missed him and his music. If she could see him, talk to him, would he praise her efforts to save the ranch he loved or would he lament her decisions?

Tears of regret blurred the words on the page, and her throat could no longer sing out the notes. Jennie passed the hymnal to Caleb and clasped her hands together as she pushed at the worn, wood floor with the toe of her boot. She was a hypocrite, judging her neighbors for their past actions when her present ones were perhaps just as erroneous.

The pressure of Caleb’s hand on top of hers caused her to look up.

“I’m glad you came,” he said softly. To her disappointment, he released his gentle grip.

His words brought the blossom of hope inside her. She could still make things right—once the ranch was safe. Maybe then she could find a way to pay the rightful owners what she’d taken from the bandits.

When the song ended, the chorister took her seat and the congregation bowed their heads for prayer. Jennie wished they could sing again. She wanted to keep the warm feeling inside her a little longer.

Once the meeting ended, Jennie headed for the door, the other three following behind. She tried to push her way gently through the throng, but more than one hand reached out to stop her progress.

“Jennie Jones. It’s so good to see you.” Jennie recognized the young woman but couldn’t remember her name. She held a baby on her hip and wore a smile.

“How you and your brother have grown,” an older woman added.

“We’re glad you joined your family at meeting this week.”

Jennie peered into the friendly faces, too overwhelmed to speak.

“We hoped you’d come back to us.”

“Who is this fine-looking young man?”

A hand closed over her elbow. “I’m Caleb Johnson. I work at the ranch.”

With a smile to the crowd, Caleb guided Jennie out of the church and down the front steps. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay. You just looked like you could use some air.” Only when they reached the wagon did he let go of her arm.

He had been more solicitous the past while—first with the money for her dress and now the way he held her arm or touched her hand. Did he regret his rejection of her kiss? Did she want him to? The more she came to know Caleb, the more she admired and cared about him. She hated to think of him leaving the ranch for good in a few months. But she also knew that a man who valued his faith as strongly as Caleb could never understand or forgive the things she’d done to hold on to the ranch. The thing she’d do again, if she could.

“Thank you, for your help back there,” she said, leaning against the side of the wagon.

“Was the meeting as bad as you’d imagined?”

She shook her head as she watched Will and Grandma Jones standing in different groups talking with what appeared to be new friends. “Everyone seems happy to see us.”

“You may still find one or two who insist on dredging up the past, but those are the ones you just ignore.”

Jennie opened her mouth to protest. She’d told Caleb what horrible things members of the congregation had said. How could she ignore people like that? The memory that he, too, had wrestled with hurts in the past stilled her anger.

“It took courage to come today, Jennie.” He reached up to brush a strand of hair back beneath her bonnet, his blue eyes dark with intensity. Jennie reminded herself to breathe. “Just remember the only person whose opinion really matters is God’s. I don’t doubt He cares a great deal for you.”

“How can you be so sure?” The question came out demanding, unbelieving and broke the intimacy of the moment. But she was glad she’d asked it. Did God really care what happened to her and her family? God hadn’t stopped her from losing her mother—twice—or her father. How could she believe that a God who allowed all that to happen wanted her to be happy?

Caleb turned around and rested his arms on the rim of the wagon bed. His answer came so softly that Jennie had to step closer to be sure she heard him. “It’s like that song—I was lost and now I’m found.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “That was me, three years ago. I was lost in grief and anger, but after killing that bandit, I woke up, so to speak. I realized God hadn’t gone anywhere after Liza’s death—I was the one who’d put the distance between us. When I was ready, He was waiting, ready to take my burden away if I let Him.” He twisted to look at her. “He can do the same for you.”

The sincerity of his declaration had the same effect as the song, bringing hope to Jennie’s troubled heart. Maybe he was right. There were still too many complications to figure out such things for herself right then, but Jennie could admit the morning hadn’t been as bad as she’d anticipated. For once she had made the right decision.

Now if only she could save the ranch. It was all she had left—she couldn’t lose it. Not if there was any way to hold on. And when she’d done whatever needed to be done, she could only hope that God, and Caleb, would forgive her.

Chapter Twelve

T
hough supper had been over for some time, Caleb wasn’t ready to head to bed. For now, he just wanted to sit around the table with the family and relish the end of a very good day. The church service had been edifying, even more so with Jennie there, and he’d enjoyed two slices of Grandma Jones’s delicious spice cake. Jennie, Will and their grandmother didn’t seem in a hurry to leave the kitchen, either.

“I’d like to go to Fillmore—tomorrow,” Jennie announced during a lull in the conversation about the warmer weather and the cattle.

“What for?” Grandma Jones asked.

Jennie’s cheeks tinged pink, though Caleb wasn’t sure why. “About finances for the ranch.”

Caleb leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “Are you going alone?”

“We can’t spare you or Will,” Jennie said. “Not when the cattle need watching during the day and rounding up into the corral at night. I’ve gone up there alone before. I’ll be all right.”

He wanted to remind her about their encounter with the thugs on the trail before he’d come to the ranch, but he couldn’t, not in front of her family. He didn’t doubt Jennie’s abilities to handle herself, though he wasn’t keen on the idea of her traveling alone. But what could he say? He was only their hired hand.

Grandma Jones patted Jennie’s hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Jennie girl.”

“I will, Grandma.” Uneasiness flitted over Jennie’s face, but Caleb shook off the observation. Likely her nervousness stemmed from whatever financial meeting she had planned. “I’ll be back in four days. Can you get along without me until then?”

Caleb gave a deep sigh and eyed Will. “Whatdaya think, Will? Think we’ll manage for a couple days without your sister?”

The boy grinned, then feigned a frown. “I don’t know. I think those cows are plottin’ a revolt.”

Caleb smothered a laugh with a hand to his mouth. His sarcastic wit was clearly rubbing off on Jennie’s brother.

Jennie glared at them both. “Very funny, you two. Just try not to get the cows rustled again in my absence.”

“I take offense at that,” Caleb said, arranging his face into a deadpan expression. “I lost a piece of my ear for those lousy cows. You think I’m gonna stand by and let them get stolen again—just to lose some limb this time? I don’t think so.”

Grandma Jones and Will chuckled, and finally Jennie’s mouth broke into a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Caleb tipped his head. “What I don’t understand is how Will here can get those cows to stay still. I’m always having to ride after one or two that get it in their thick heads to run for the hills.”

“I play my harmonica.” Will unearthed the instrument from his pocket.

“Play something for us,” Grandma Jones requested. “It’s been ages since we’ve heard any music.”

Will put the harmonica to his lips and began to play a jaunty tune. Caleb tapped his feet in time to the music and Grandma Jones clapped her hands. After a minute, Caleb couldn’t remain seated anymore. He pushed back his chair and stood.

“Would you care to dance, Mrs. Jones?”

Smiling, Grandma Jones nodded. Caleb led her around the table in a slow polka as Will continued to play.

A few turns later, Grandma Jones begged off. Will lowered the harmonica. “I’m not as young as I used to be, but thank you for the dance, young man. Why don’t you join him, Jennie? Play another, Will.”

Caleb threw Jennie a questioning glance. Would she dance with him or make up an excuse so she wouldn’t have to? She had been more receptive to him today, taking his arm in hers before and after church. Holding his breath, Caleb held out his hand to her.

Jennie stood, her expression unreadable, but she allowed him to pull her into dancing position. Caleb exhaled as Will started another catchy song.

“You ready?” he asked Jennie.

She gave a wordless nod and he led her in a circle around the kitchen. He liked the feel of her small waist beneath his hand and the way her hair smelled of perfumed soap.

“It seems you can dance as well as you can shoot,” she said, turning her head to look up at him with those big, brown eyes.