Claiming the Cowboy's Heart (17 page)

Jayne sighed and leaned toward him. Or did he only imagine it as a queer mingling of hope and yearning filled him? But a dark shadow hovered, an accumulation of fear and caution. His arms ached to pull her close and hold her next to his heart and let his skin absorb her calm assurance. But his head told him he could never give her what she needed—protection, security, safety. He feared failure.

“The sky is alive with fire,” she murmured.

The sun dipped behind the mountain peaks, fracturing light into a hundred bright ribbons of color.

“It makes me wish I could paint like Linette.”

If she hadn’t been leaning close he would not have noticed her stiffen.

“I wish I could do anything useful and practical.” She tipped her chin up in a gesture of determination. “And I will learn how.”

He longed to be able to say something that would encourage her, make her see her strengths and abilities. Slowly, the words coming haltingly, he spoke. “Jayne, don’t sell yourself short. What counts is what’s inside you, not what your hands can do. That, you can learn. After all, no one was born knowing how to rope or ride or bake bread.”

She turned her face up to him. The deep hunger in her eyes squeezed his heart.

“What if what’s inside is fear and cowardice?”

He touched her chin and smiled into her eyes, lost in their chocolate depths. “No coward would cross the North American continent nor pick up a gun and learn to shoot it after seeing the death and destruction it can cause.” He trailed his finger along her jawline, marveling at the softness of her porcelain skin. “Fear is a good thing. It protects us from danger. Assessing fear and confronting it takes courage. You, Jayne Gardiner, have shown that kind of courage over and over.”

She cupped his hand, stilling his fingers against her cheek. Her eyes filled with warmth and appreciation and drew him into her thoughts.

He swallowed hard. Tried to assess what was happening. Where would this go? But he couldn’t think past the feel of flesh on flesh, his hand on her cheek. He couldn’t reason beyond the look in her eyes.

“Seth Collins, you are a very kind and generous man. No one has ever said anything like that to me. It makes me feel…” She gave a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “It makes me feel strong and…” She swallowed hard and her eyes grew wide. “Never mind.”

She didn’t move but he felt her withdrawal as thoroughly as if she’d shouted it in his ear.

He slipped his hand to his side.

She put the space of a foot-long ruler between them.

Yet neither made any motion toward returning to the ranch. Instead, they continued to watch nature painting the sky in bright colors.

Distant sounds reminded him of a world beyond this place. A horse neighed. In the trees behind them, birds cooed. A noisy crow cawed as it flapped by. If he really listened, he could even hear the rippling of the river.

A breeze caught a strand of Jayne’s hair and blew it across her cheek. He lifted his hand, thinking to tuck it into place, but she caught it herself.

She didn’t need him. She had Eddie and back in England, her father. Moreover, she meant to become independent.

And he did not welcome more responsibilities. It should have been all the reason he needed to end this time with her. Yet he didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. He wasn’t ready to return to the narrow life he’d built for himself and so he remained motionless and silent, drinking in the view as his eyes swept the ranch.

Beside him, Jayne seemed almost worshipful as she observed the sunset.

Then she let out a breath that seemed to come from the very soles of her feet. She turned and smiled at him. “Wasn’t that wonderful? I feel renewed, refreshed.” Her eyes blessed him and he knew a soul-satisfying sense that he’d had a part in making the evening special.

They turned and made their way back to the ranch, though she didn’t seem in any more of a rush to end the evening than he.

They reached the bridge and she stopped to lean her arms on the side rails.

He hesitated, having no fondness for rivers. But he couldn’t resist Jayne’s company and joined her, elbow to elbow.

Evening shadows filled the water. Dark. Murky. Unlocking his forbidden memories. Giving them life.

“I had a brother. Frank. He was two years older than me. We were very close. Always watching out for each other.” His voice caught and he couldn’t go on.

She pressed her hand to his arm. “What happened to Frank?”

“We had a friend, Sarah. She lived across the road and spent a lot of time with our family.” Memories came in a flood. “We almost grew up together. Mostly she was my friend and Frank put up with her. Then one day—”

She slipped her hand down his arm and tucked it into his curled fingers. He held on to the lifeline she offered.

“It was early winter. The ice had started to form on the river. The sun was so bright it hurt the eyes. One of those days when a person can hardly contain their enthusiasm and you begin to think there’s nothing you can’t do.”

She squeezed his hand.

“Frank seemed to notice Sarah for the first time and it made him silly. Foolhardy. He dared us to slide on the ice. He knew as well as I that it wasn’t thick enough but Sarah laughed and he couldn’t be stopped. He went first. Sarah followed. I refused to go. I wanted them to come back. Stay away from danger.” He sucked in air that didn’t reach his lungs. Instead, it went to his head and made him dizzy.

Jayne gave an almost inaudible gasp. “No.” The word came on breathless air.

He nodded. “They broke through the ice. I grabbed a branch and wriggled out to pull them from the icy water. I managed to get Sarah to shore and went back for Frank but I couldn’t find him.” His voice scraped from his throat. “They found his body three days later. Sarah died the same day he was found. I did everything I could.” His jaw ached. “But it wasn’t enough.”

“Oh, Seth.” She shifted, wrapped her arms about his waist and held him tight.

He enclosed her in his arms and pressed his cheek to her hair, breathing in the scent of sunshine and hay.

“Seth, I’m so sorry. I know how much it hurts. How helpless you must feel. But you said it yourself. You did everything you could. You have to stop blaming yourself for their choices.”

He knew her words were right. In his head. His heart said otherwise. His heart blamed him. Said he should have stopped them. Should have saved them.
You were taught to look out for each other.
Pa’s words reverberated through his head.

“Why did they insist on acting so foolishly?” he said.

“We all make mistakes. I guess it simply proves they were human. Like us all.”

“Where was God?” He choked the words out. “Why didn’t He stop them from dying?”

Her arms tightened around him and she shuddered.

“Oh, Jayne. Here I am bemoaning something that happened years ago while you deal with something a lot fresher. Forgive me for being so selfish.”

“No. Don’t apologize. Your pain is as real as my pain. I think—” She tipped her head back to look into his face. “It makes me feel like you can understand how I feel and why I do the things I do. It makes me feel close to you.”

They looked at each other in the lengthening shadows. At that moment something healing and eternal occurred. He knew he would never be the same. Not, he silently warned himself, that his circumstances had changed.

His heart swelled with gratitude for her understanding and he lowered his head and caught her lips in a gentle kiss.

Her hands splayed across his back. She appeared to welcome the kiss and return it with answering pressure.

His heart swelled to near bursting with joy. It beat hard with exuberance three times before his lifelong habit of caution took over and he reasoned his way out of accepting what this situation offered—though he couldn’t say exactly what it was, maybe a new beginning.

He broke away from her embrace. “I shouldn’t have done that. I had no right.”

She gave a deep-throated chuckle. “I don’t think you noticed me protesting in any way.”

When she would have tucked her hand about his elbow, he pretended to stop and listen for something, putting enough distance between them that she dropped her arm.

It wasn’t that he didn’t welcome her touch, even yearn for it. But nothing had changed. He was still Seth Collins who lived a life of caution. Who saw responsibilities as all consuming. Who didn’t know how to trust God. Who had a pa who needed him and in order to prove he wasn’t a failure in the responsibility department, he meant to prove he could look after Pa.

Jayne did not deserve the affections of a flawed man like him.

* * *

Jayne felt him pull back. Part of her understood it was his fear kicking in. Now that he’d shared the story about his brother and their friend, she understood why he wanted to control things so much, why he thought people shouldn’t take risks and why he kept his heart locked up. But she’d also seen his tenderness and vulnerability.

He’d given her such encouragement by saying she wasn’t a coward. She wanted to give him something in return. She recalled his words.
Where was God? Why didn’t He stop them from dying?

She stopped walking and turned to face him.

He looked beyond her, avoiding eye contact.

It pinched her heart to see his withdrawal. “Seth, God was there. Why He didn’t stop the accident, I can’t say. I don’t presume to understand His ways. But more and more each day I understand that His love is unchanging. His arms are outstretched to comfort us. I think life is meant to press us closer to Him. But so often we—and I mean me—let circumstances come between us and then wonder where God is. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t change.” As she spoke, her convictions grew stronger. “I flounder from time to time but joy comes when I return to His side.”

His gaze darted to her for a heartbeat then away again. “I’m glad you have found solace in His presence.” His words were distant as if pulled from the mountain tops.

“I would wish the same for you, my friend.”

He jerked his full attention to her. “Friend?”

“We are, aren’t we?”

The seconds ticked by as he stared into her eyes. “Friends?” The word rounded with surprise.

She nodded, hoping he would allow it to be so.

A slow smile curled his lips. “I like that.”

“Me, too.”

They turned back to the trail.

After a moment he stopped. “You know, I haven’t had a friend since…” His voice trailed off.

“Since Sarah?”

“I was going to say since Frank.”

She reached for his arm, gratified when he didn’t pull away. “Then I’m doubly honored to be your friend.” A sense of wholeness, such as she couldn’t recall ever before experiencing, warmed her insides.

* * *

The next morning she dressed hurriedly and rushed to the kitchen to get milk for Thor. She glanced around, hoping Seth would be there and offer to help. Yes, caring for the fawn had been her idea but she’d never done anything of the sort before. Seth seemed to know what to do.

But he wasn’t about. Her heart squeezed out a disappointed beat. She longed to see him again, bask in his smile, revel in their friendship.

Never mind, she could feed the fawn herself.

She gathered together her supplies and trotted to the barn where she went to the enclosure where Thor rested. The pen was empty. An overwhelming sense of fear and dread took hold of her. Had the fawn died and one of the cowboys removed his body? Her knees weakened. “Thor,” she cried. “Thor.”

Footsteps thudded. She’d ask where they’d taken him and see he got a proper farewell. She turned, tears welling up in her eyes. “Seth.” He’d understand why it mattered so much. “Thor is gone.”

“He’s okay. Come and see.” He held the gate open.

His words barely registered in her brain. She had to force a deep breath into her lungs as she followed him.

He stepped back and pointed to a wire pen with a little wooden shelter. There Thor and Smokey chased each other around the perimeter.

She laughed shakily. “He’s okay.”

Seth jerked his attention to her. “You thought something had happened to him?”

She nodded, unable to push a word past the conflagration of emotions.

He moved closer and touched her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She nodded, clinging to his gentle look.

He dropped his hand, turned back to watch the pair in the pen.

Her world righted. Came back to sanity and reality. “You built this?”

“He needs space to run and play. He can play here during the day but for his safety, he’ll need to be shut in the barn at night.”

“I brought a bottle.” She clutched it still.

Together they entered the pen. Thor backed into the far corner but after a short struggle to get him started, he took the bottle readily enough.

Once Thor was sucking well, Seth backed away, leaving Jayne to feed the fawn on her own.

She appreciated his vote of confidence but felt he’d put distance between them for another reason. He was cautious about their friendship.

“Are you ready for another lesson today?” he asked.

Relieved that he didn’t mean to abandon the lessons, she gave him a teasing grin. “A shooting lesson?” She hoped to remind him of the evening before when, for a moment, she had felt so close to him. Maybe he’d realize she wasn’t opposed to courting lessons.

“‘Fraid I can’t teach you how to preserve peas,” he said. Her eyes twinkled and she understood he only pretended not to know what she meant.

Thor finished and trotted away, jerking her attention back to the animal.

“After breakfast?” he asked.

“Sounds good.” She looked forward to it more than usual. Last night had made her realize how much she had grown to enjoy his company.

They left Thor in his pen and stood outside watching him play with Smokey for a few minutes then they returned to the house.

After breakfast she would have stayed to help clean up but Linette shoved her toward the door. “Don’t keep Seth waiting.”

Jayne did not need any more urging and went to join Seth. They went to the clearing.

“I think you’re ready to go on your own,” he said.