She shook her head slowly, as if she was trying to make sense of what he said. “You’re in danger. We’re in danger.” The words were accusing, and it took all of Jack’s willpower not to try to smooth the situation over with pretty words and reassurances.
“Yes,” he said shortly, before glancing around at the house, the horses still hitched to the wagon, the flat land that led northward to the river. “We need to leave.”
“No.” She stared at him, incredulous.
“Celia. We have to go now. You don’t know what these men are capable of.” Should they take the wagon? No, going on horseback would be faster. Where would they go? His mind spun.
“I can’t believe you. But perhaps I should.”
“What do you mean?” Impatience leaked through his words. They needed to leave, now. It was only a matter of time before Shane discovered that what Celia had told him wasn’t true. Before he rode out here himself to find out for certain.
“That’s what you do. You run away. You ran from your investors into the next project. You ran from New York. And now you want me to run with you, away from my home and Faith.” She stood defiant, arms crossed. “I won’t go.”
Her words couldn’t have hurt more if they were bullets piercing his skin and lodging into his heart. “But . . .” He didn’t finish.
Because she was right.
What kind of a man was he? His father would be ashamed. He’d always said it was best to face your troubles head-on. But Jack hadn’t done anything of the kind. Ever.
A sort of self-loathing took hold of him.
“You can run if you’d like,” Celia said. “But I’m going inside to pack a bag. Then I’m riding into town to stay with Faith. I fear those men will pay her a visit next, and I don’t want her to be alone.”
“Celia—” But it was pointless. She was already to the door.
She couldn’t go to town—he couldn’t let her willingly walk into danger alone. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, willing the answer to be easier, less terrifying. But it wasn’t.
He wasn’t good enough for Celia. He never had been. If she didn’t want him anymore, she was right.
Without thinking, Jack unhitched the horses and put Tiny into her stall in the barn. He took one glance at the house, with Celia safely inside, and then climbed atop George and rode away from the farm.
Chapter Twenty
Celia emerged from the house twenty minutes later, an old carpetbag filled with necessities to last however long she might need to stay. She’d have to ask a neighbor to care for the chickens and cow, presuming Jack ran, that is. She squeezed her eyes shut at that thought. She couldn’t let herself cry over it now. She needed to be brave, which meant she couldn’t let herself think about the fact that he’d kept something so important from her. Or that despite how much she’d believed in him, he’d shown himself to be a coward.
She opened her eyes and stepped off the front porch. The wagon and the horses were gone from the yard. Jack must have put them away, not believing what she’d said.
Which was fine. It wasn’t as if she were incapable of saddling a horse herself. She strode across the yard, her unbuttoned coat flying out behind her, trying to figure out what she’d say if Jack attempted to stop her from leaving.
But when she entered the barn, he wasn’t there. Everything else was in order—the wagon, the cow, the horses . . . No, one of the horses was missing too.
Celia dropped her bag and ran outside. Jack and George were nowhere to be seen. An aching sadness overwhelmed her. Had he run already?
But that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t come inside, hadn’t packed a thing. If he were going to take off for good, wouldn’t he have at least grabbed some extra clothing and some food? She ran back into the barn. The old canteen still hung from a peg. He hadn’t even brought water.
Celia stood uncertainly in the middle of the barn. He hadn’t run, then. But the only other place he could have gone was . . . to town.
She thought she might be sick. He’d taken her words to heart. He wasn’t running away from danger, but toward it. To do what? Her stomach flipped. What might those men do when he found them?
She had to get to him. She didn’t know what she could do. Maybe convince those men to leave him alone, promise them they’d get their boss’s investment returned. All she knew was that she needed to see Jack again. He’d done this because of what she said, and she couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.
In no time at all, she had Tiny saddled. Her carpetbag forgotten on the barn floor, Celia raced to town. The cold bit at her face, but she didn’t feel it. Reaching the road that led into town, she kept the frozen river to her left and tried not to push Tiny.
After what seemed like hours, she finally reached the outskirts of Last Chance. The hotel seemed the most likely place to start despite the fact that George was not tied up outside. Jack might have taken him to the livery. But Celia didn’t want to waste time checking on that possibility. She tied Tiny to a post outside and entered the place for the second time that day. She spotted the same clerk behind the desk.
“Please,” she said, somewhat out of breath and certain she must look a complete mess. “That man I met here earlier, Mr. Jones? Is he available?”
Mr. Foster shook his head. “No, ma’am. I saw him
