“Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll enjoy the walk.”
He took her hand as she stepped onto an overturned wooden crate to mount the horse. His grip was firm and reassuring, and for half a moment, Celia felt as if she had no worries at all. Not about her new marriage, not about the farm, not about Faith and her grief, not about her friends in town, not about surviving the winter. They all disappeared in Jack’s calm face and steady hand.
“We need to head west from town, along the river,” she said, trying to pull her head back to the here and now.
Jack’s eyebrows knitted together again, but he nodded and they were on their way. As she rode, and as Jack led Mrs. Hewlett and Freda, he peppered her with questions about the town, the shops and other businesses, and the people who lived there. She answered them, mostly happy not to have to drive the conversation herself. Celia was never particularly confident in her ability to converse with folks. It was so hard to think of what to talk about, and then she worried she might be boring the other person. But with Jack asking the questions, she could be certain he was interested in her responses. It made her feel at ease, as if talking to this man she’d only just met was as natural as talking with her own sister.
“Perhaps tomorrow I can come back to town and inquire about openings at the bank or that empty building on Stage Coach Road,” he said, glancing back as they left Last Chance behind him.
Celia furrowed her brow. She wanted to ask why, but Ned would have rankled at such a question. Not wanting Jack to pull away from her so quickly, she pushed the question away, saying lightly, “There’s much to be done at home,” and hoping he might understand that a farm takes up all of a man’s waking hours, and more.
“Your sister certainly has her hands full with running both the post and the telegraph machine,” Jack went on as they left the town farther behind. He squinted into the distance toward the bluffs as if he were looking for something.
“Oh, but she’s happy to do it. I believe she sees it as some sort of tribute to Aaron, to keep it all running as well as he did. Besides, no one else knows how to operate the telegraph machine.” In truth, Celia worried Faith was working herself ragged as a distraction from her grief. She’d known no one as devoted as Faith and Aaron had been to each other. She’d hoped so much that she and Ned might have grown to have such a relationship, but that was never to be.
But perhaps now . . .
She glanced at Jack, the chill breeze blowing his long coat out behind him as he led Mrs. Hewlett and Freda along behind him. She could hardly believe he’d agreed to marry her. She’d never wanted anything so badly as she wanted love like Faith and Aaron had. But truthfully, she’d settle for at least a friendly marriage, one in which her husband spoke to her on a regular basis and didn’t treat her as if she were only there to keep house.
They turned off the river road to head south toward Chimney Rock. After about twenty minutes, she caught him gazing across the plains, his forehead lined in confusion.
“How much farther is it?” he finally asked.
“Only another couple of miles,” she answered. “It generally takes an hour to an hour and a half to get to and from town.”
He pursed his lips together and then smiled at her. “Your former husband must have enjoyed country living.”
“He did,” Celia said, wondering how a man who didn’t could possibly be a farmer.
They went on, Jack not saying anything more. Celia’s curiosity grew. What was he thinking? Was he eager to see their home? What would he think of the farm? She hoped he’d take to farming, given he’d never had the experience.
“There it is,” she said, when the house, barn, and other outbuildings came into view. The land looked lovely against the backdrop of some small bluffs, a mile or so south of the house, and Chimney Rock rising above toward the southeast.
Jack stopped short, Mrs. Hewlett lowing in complaint.
“What is it?” Celia stopped the horse.
He was looking at the property as if he’d never seen a barn before. Then he looked at her, a somewhat terrified look in his eyes. “It’s a farm.”
Chapter Seven
The vastness of this cold countryside seemed to swallow Jack whole as he looked again from Celia to the farm.
The farm.
“You didn’t mention you had a farm.”
She swallowed visibly and twisted her fingers around the horse’s reins. “I’m sorry, I assumed you knew when I said I’d been staying with my sister in town.”
Jack didn’t know why he hadn’t put the pieces together. The cow and calf. Her careful mention that there would be a lot to do at home when he’d talked about taking on a job in town. The sheer distance from Last Chance. No one in their right mind would live so far away from civilization in this vast nothingness unless they were working the land or raising livestock. He didn’t know what he’d expected to see as they’d traveled. A country estate, perhaps? He could have laughed at his own naivete. Instead, he turned from the very farm-like weathered barn and ramshackle house to a worried Celia.
“Please don’t be sorry,” he said, regretting that he’d made her feel that way. “I should have figured it out.”
She chewed on her lip again.
“It’s all right,” he said with more courage than he actually had. “I’ll learn all there is to know about farming.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” She gave
