“Oh, well . . .” Celia’s mind tumbled through everything she could possibly say, finally landing on the truth. “One of the shop owners told me you were asking after Jack Wendler.”
“Indeed we were. In fact, we learned just this morning that he’d married a lady in town. A Mrs. Thornton.”
“Yes,” she said, her throat growing dry as she spoke. “We were married.”
“Were?”
Her choice of wording hadn’t been intentional, but now that Mr. Jones questioned it, she decided immediately upon the lie she would tell. “Yes. He left town the day after Christmas, without a word. I was gravely disappointed, as you can imagine.” Her voice shook a little, but she hoped Mr. Jones would presume that was because she was still mourning her husband leaving her. She’d never been so thankful that snow had kept them from services the prior Sunday, and that Jack had been too hard at work to make either this journey or the one she’d made a few days before into town. No one here had seen him since they’d delivered Faith home on Christmas Day.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Thornton, but I’m not surprised. He’s got a knack for running off,” Mr. Jones said. “He didn’t mention where he might be headed?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. It took me quite by surprise.” She chewed on her lip, praying the man believed her.
“All right. Thank you kindly for letting me know.”
“Mr. Jones?” she said as he turned to go back up the stairs. Almost against her better judgment but unable to restrain herself, she asked, “May I ask why you’re looking for him?”
He paused. “We’re old friends.”
Old friends. Somehow Celia didn’t think that was the case. As she slipped out the door and walked quickly back to the mercantile, worries crowded in from every direction.
And try as she might, Celia couldn’t shake the sense that her new husband was in danger.
Chapter Nineteen
“Jack!”
Celia’s voice, plain as day, came from outside the barn, and the alarm in it was evident. Jack tossed aside the old, worn shirt in his hand that he’d been using to clean the sawdust off the small box he’d made. Then tossed on his coat and raced outside to find Celia jumping down from the wagon.
“Jack, oh, thank goodness.” She flung her arms about him, breathing heavily.
He rested a hand on the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“There are men in town—two men—wanting to speak with you.” She looked up at him, the breath from her words lingering in the air.
His entire body went cold. He dropped his hands to her arms and took a step back to see her better.
She went on. “I was at—oh, never mind that. I found them, though, at the hotel, and spoke with one Mr. Jones.”
“Jones?” He pondered that until he realized what exactly she’d done. “Wait, you sought them out?”
Celia nodded. “It was so odd, but I thought that maybe they had something to do with how hard you’ve been working out here lately. I thought I could pass along a message. But Jack, the man I met with . . .” She shuddered.
“What did he look like?” He gripped her hands.
“Big. He was well-dressed, or so I thought, until I saw him closer. It was as if his nice clothing had been worn frequently for years. He was very polite, almost too much so. He had a funny way of speaking, and—oh!—gold set between his teeth. He was . . . unsettling.”
Jack’s stomach seemed to lurch up to his throat, and he closed his eyes briefly.
It was Garrity Shane.
“Do you know him? He said you were old friends, but honestly, Jack, I had the strangest sensation that he wasn’t much of a friend at all. He felt dangerous.”
Jack nodded slowly, opening his eyes. “No,” he said quietly, “we are not friends.”
“Who is he?” Celia peered up at him with those trusting pale green eyes.
“What did you tell him?” He needed to know, right now. He had to make a decision.
She chewed on her lip. “That you’d run off right after Christmas. I don’t know why I lied, but I felt as if I should.”
“That was good.” He dropped her hands and began to pace.
“Jack?” Celia pressed her arms to her sides. “You didn’t tell me who he is.”
He stopped and rested a hand against the side of the barn, trying to keep his thoughts in order. “A man who believes I owe him money.”
“He invested in one of your businesses?”
“No, his boss did. And he was quite unhappy that it failed.” Jack glanced up at Celia. “He’s the reason I left when I did.”
She blinked at him. “I thought you said you left to seek new opportunities here.”
“I did.” Guilt welled up inside him. “That’s the truth, but . . . Shane was also on my heels.”
Celia frowned. “His name is Shane, then? What do you mean, he was on your heels?”
Jack dug his fingers into the wooden post of the barn, ignoring the cold that had begun to make them go numb. He didn’t want to tell her. It was shameful. And he supposed that was why he’d kept it from her before. But if Shane was in town, she needed to know. “His boss demanded I repay him the money I’d lost. I couldn’t, and so he sent Shane and his men after me.” He looked up at Celia, who was watching him with disbelief in her eyes.
“I’d written that letter and wound up climbing out the window of
