Rekindled (33 page)

With that thought, the force of Kathryn’s anger deflated. Had her expectation for Larson to make a success of the ranch—of himself— been the very thing that had caused him to keep the truth from her in the first place? She closed her eyes as truth laid bare her motives—motives she now wished she’d been made to question long ago.

They’d passed through town and were on the road leading to Casaroja when MacGregor leaned forward. “Mrs. Jennings, again, I did not say those things to be intentionally cruel to you.” He moved to claim the seat beside her on the bench.

Not looking at him, Kathryn scooted closer toward the window.

“I feel like I’ve hurt you in some way, and that was never my intention, lass.” His brogue thickened. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to join you for a cup of tea back at your cottage when we return home.” He trailed a finger down the side of her arm. “Give me a chance to smooth things over between us.”

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at his invitation and continued to stare out the window. The idea of smoothing anything over with Donlyn MacGregor held not the least bit of interest to her. And if he hadn’t intended to wound her with what he’d said earlier, she couldn’t begin to imagine what he might say with malice aforethought.

As the vague outline of Casaroja’s main house came into view, a possibility began to weave itself through Kathryn’s mind. The driver pulled around to the back of the main house and stopped in front of her cottage. When MacGregor offered his hand in assistance, she took it and climbed down.

Her plan still forming, Kathryn turned when she reached the porch. “While I cannot say that I appreciate the things you’ve said to me tonight, Mr. MacGregor, I do appreciate your honesty. It’s helped me to see my situation—and my opportunities—more clearly.”

“Actually, that was my exact intention.” Gently taking hold of her arm, he inclined his head toward her as though they shared a more intimate relationship. “I hope some of what I’ve said will help you decide on what steps to take next.”

“Oh, it has.” Kathryn reached down deep for confidence and forced herself to look him in the eye. “I’ve decided to sell the land myself, in parcels, before it goes into foreclosure.”

For an instant, his hand tightened uncomfortably on her arm. “But you said that land meant more to you than anything else, that you could never—” A tight smile turned his mouth. “You said earlier tonight that you wouldn’t sell.”

“I was mistaken, Mr. MacGregor. There
is
something that means far more to me, and you’ve helped me see that. I won’t sell the entire property. I’ll keep the homestead and the acreage around it, including first rights to the stream. But by selling off the rest, with proportional access to Fountain Creek, perhaps I can manage to secure the funds I need. My husband chose that land with great care, and I believe others will see its worth, even if you do not.” She put a hand on the door. “Thank you again for a lovely dinner. Good evening.”

Kathryn closed the door to the cottage behind her and quickly flicked the lock into place.

Two days later, as she went about her duties, Kathryn heard footsteps in the main hallway and saw MacGregor striding toward her. Something about the determined look in his eyes sent her pulse racing. Had she pushed him too far the other night with her clear lack of interest?

“Will you accompany me to my office, please, Mrs. Jennings?” Once she was inside, MacGregor closed the door behind her and motioned for her to sit.

Kathryn prepared herself for the worst. Would MacGregor go so far as to dismiss her simply for refusing his advances? Surely not. Nevertheless, her mind tumbled forward, wondering where she would live, what her next employ would be, and who might hire a woman seven months heavy with child.

“Mrs. Jennings, I’ve been thinking about our conversation two nights ago and deeply regret some of what I said to you.”

A look bordering on contrition edged his thin smile, and Kathryn felt a wind of caution sweep through her. Donlyn MacGregor was only a man, she reminded herself as she watched him. A powerful one, yes. Wealthy, most certainly. But still, just a man. One who could help her realize a dream if he so determined. She reminded herself to breathe.

He glanced away, his gaze settling somewhere on the bookshelves lining the walls. “Frankly, Mrs. Jennings, I was angry at the way you refused my attention. At the way you have repeatedly refused me since the day we met.” He looked up then and placed his hand, palm down, on a thick legal document atop his desk. Kathryn’s eyes immediately went to it. “But after much consideration, I have decided to give you what you’ve asked of me. I’ll loan you the money so you can keep your land. All of it. But first, we need to discuss the terms of our agreement.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

L
ARSON PULLED THE curry brush over the mare’s coat, working in smooth, rhythmic strokes, thankful for the breeze that helped cool the heat of the midday sun. At the horse’s whinny, he looked up and across the corrals to see Donlyn MacGregor peering inside the stable. Apparently MacGregor hadn’t noticed him yet.

Though he’d glimpsed Casaroja’s owner several times since being here, Larson hadn’t seen him up close. Not since he’d met with him the previous fall when MacGregor had come to him wanting to buy the south pastureland as well as the homestead acreage. MacGregor had said he needed additional grazing land and had pushed him hard to sell, but Larson had refused. Twice. He knew it was a lie. MacGregor already had enough land to keep twice his herd.

MacGregor turned in Larson’s direction and stilled.

Larson straightened as the man approached. He offered his hand first. “Sir.” He worked hard to keep the spite from his voice.

MacGregor openly studied his face, distaste clearly written in his steely eyes. “I’m Donlyn MacGregor, the owner of Casaroja.”

“Yes, sir. I know who you are. My name’s Jacob. Jacob Brantley,” he added, thinking quickly.

“Brantley,” MacGregor repeated. “Stewartson was tellin’ me we had a new hire a while back. I thought I knew everyone here, but I don’t recall seein’ you before.” His tone clearly stated that he would have remembered such an encounter.

“I’ve been here about a month. I mostly keep to myself and just do my job.”

MacGregor eyed him, then gave him a look that said he understood why. Larson turned back to currying the mare.

His employer walked around the horse to face him. “Where were you before you came to Casaroja?”

“I ran cattle down south at Johnson’s place for a while. He has a nice spread there. Then before that I was up north of Denver for a few months.” That was stretching it a bit, but technically it was the truth.

MacGregor laughed in his throat. “Johnson’s stock doesn’t come close to comparing with Casaroja’s. I’m sure you can see the difference.”

“You do have fine animals.” The compliment nearly choked him.

“I only purchase the best.” MacGregor ran a hand over the sleek black coat of the mare. “It’s costly, but worth the investment. You’ll discover that after workin’ here for a while.” He paused for a moment. “If you want the best, you must be willin’ to pay to get it.”

Noting the shift in MacGregor’s tone, Larson looked back to follow the man’s line of vision. Kathryn was walking toward them from the house.

“Now there’s a real beauty, man.” MacGregor’s voice dropped low. “Somethin’ worth an investment, for sure.”

A stab of possessiveness twisted Larson’s insides.

MacGregor went to meet her. “Mrs. Jennings, what a nice surprise.”

Larson watched her but didn’t say anything. Kathryn nodded politely to MacGregor, then looked over the man’s shoulder. She offered Larson a smile, and he felt the tightening lessen in his gut. Her hair shone like gold in the afternoon sun. She’d never been more beautiful to him.

“You’re needed at the main house, sir,” she told MacGregor. “Mr. Kohlman is here to see you. He’s waiting in your office.”

“Indeed,” MacGregor answered, taking hold of her arm. “And would you do me the great honor of accompanyin’ me back, Kathryn? I enjoyed our evenin’ together and look forward to many more like it.”

Larson’s eyes met Kathryn’s just before she turned away. He didn’t know what to make of the look of surprise on her face.

Not watching them leave, he worked the brush over the mare’s coat until the black coat gleamed almost blue in the hot sun. When he was done, his long-sleeved shirt was soaked clean though and his shoulder throbbed with pain.

Jacob sat quietly beside her as the wagon jostled along the parched, rutted road. From the moment he’d helped her onto the bench seat, Kathryn had tried drawing him into conversation. They still had a good half hour before arriving at church, and she’d so looked forward to talking with him again. Jacob’s responses, though kind, were reserved. She’d caught him staring at her twice since they’d left Casaroja, and for some reason, that gave her hope.

Kathryn turned her head slightly to try to read his mood. Unfortunately, the right side of Jacob’s face bore more damage than did the left, and any tension in his jaw or slight turn of his mouth that might have hinted at his feelings lay masked beneath the scarring.

Despite the heat, Jacob wore his customary long-sleeved shirt and loose-fitting dungarees, with a knit cap almost totally covering his ears. His beard grew in much thinner and in patches on the right side of his face. He’d let the whiskers grow, to help cover the scarring no doubt, and kept them neatly trimmed, much different from the first time she’d seen him in town. It looked like he’d gained weight in recent weeks, and his shirts didn’t look nearly so large on him. Even sitting silently beside her, Jacob radiated a gentleness that drew her, and Kathryn wished she could hear him laugh again.

Jacob suddenly cleared his throat and repositioned his glasses. Kathryn glanced away, not having meant to look overlong. He was sensitive about people staring, and that’s exactly what she’d been doing, but not for the reasons he might imagine.

“Thank you for taking me to church this morning.” She tried again after a moment. “I’m sorry Gabe couldn’t join us.”

Jacob urged the pair of bay mares to a faster trot. “I did ask him, like I told you I would. He said he’d come, but this morning he said the boss needed him to work.”

Kathryn caught a trace of defensiveness in his tone. “I didn’t mean to imply that you hadn’t asked him, Jacob. I’m fine with it being just the two of us. Really. I’ve been looking forward to your company.”

He said nothing.

Waiting for him to respond, Kathryn sighted a post about a hundred feet down the road and promised herself that if Jacob hadn’t said something by the time they reached it, she would inquire about his sullen mood.

They passed the post, and Kathryn wondered if promises made to oneself really counted. She sat up a little straighter, summoning her nerve.

“Jacob—”

“Mrs. Jennings—”

They both turned to each other and gave a nervous laugh.

“Please, Jacob, you go first.”

He kept his gaze trained forward, his thumbs rubbing the worn leather of the reins in his hands. “You can tell me this is none of my business, ma’am. And you’d be within your right, but I’ve been wondering about something the Carlsons mentioned when we were at the picnic.”

“And what is that?”

“The pastor said something about your having gone through a recent loss.”

He turned and looked at her then, and from the tilt of his chin, Kathryn got the feeling he wasn’t looking only at her eyes. Strangely, it didn’t bother her, because she sensed nothing inappropriate in his stare, and besides, hadn’t she been studying his face just moments ago? The morning sunshine hit his glasses just right and, for an instant, she saw the faintest outline of his eyes.

He faced forward. “I’m just wondering what your loss has been. ’Course I can guess some of it from the dresses you wear.”

Kathryn looked down at her dress and then rested a hand on her abdomen. She hadn’t expected this sharp of a turn in the conversation. “Have you always been this straightforward, Jacob?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Guess I picked it up somewhere along the way.”