Her Silent Burden (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book) Read online

  “To check on you. I said that. Where were you?”

  “I only went down the… the road some.”

  Thea pressed her lips together and warily watched as his shoulders slumped and understanding entered his eyes.

  “Where to?” Wakefield asked.

  Thea’s throat felt fiery, and she tried clearing it a couple times. “I am sorry, Wakefield, but I went to visit Jenny Mullins.”

  “That’s all the way—”

  “It is not that far away,” she interrupted. “Only right up the road.”

  “Thea, I...” Wakefield turned away. Ran his palm over his mouth, looking at the ground.

  The hairs on the back of Thea’s neck rose. Was he furious? Disappointed in her? She’d gone against his wishes, yes, but she had committed no real sin or crime.

  “Wakefield?”

  “I was worried about you,” he whispered hoarsely, still not looking at her.

  “There is nothing to worry about.”

  “Yes, there is.” His wild gaze locked onto hers, and he closed the space between them. His chest heaved as he looked down at her. “I worry about you, Thea. My every other thought is about you. You get that? You’re my wife. I love you, and if something happened to you...”

  Tears blurred Thea’s vision. “I love you, too, but I do not understand what you expect me to do. Wait here every day for you? I’m lonely up here, Wakefield. I cannot simply wait for the day you can take me somewhere. What’s more, a woman needs more than the company of her husband.”

  Wakefield nodded, but his jaw was tight, and it didn’t seem as if he really agreed at all. “I’m busy. I’m sorry. Look now, we’ll… we’ll figure it out. But until then, I don’t want you wandering around. This mountain is swarming with men.”

  Thea snorted. “Is that what you are worried about? Men? You’re jealous of men?”

  His nostrils flared. “I’m not jealous.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Then what is the issue here?”

  “The issue is your safety. Something could happen to you while you’re out exploring. You could fall down a hill, come across a man with ill intent…”

  “A hill?” Thea asked. “You think I will fall down a hill?”

  “Thea...” Wakefield ran his palms over his face.

  She closed her mouth. Her husband was truly struggling with something. Perhaps with staying calm, for he seemed to be trying awfully hard at controlling himself.

  “Wakefield?” She tentatively rested her fingers on his arm.

  He relaxed against her touch and laid his hand on hers. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said.

  Thea nodded. “You won’t.”

  “I need to make sure of that.”

  Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. “I understand, and I have done my best to be an obedient wife, but I cannot live as a prisoner. I need interaction. I need conversation with others. Do you understand that?”

  Wakefield’s eyes softened. He looked so sad like she’d hurt him deeply. But all she’d done was visit a neighbor. His reaction was so disproportionate Thea might have laughed if he were not so clearly in pain.

  “I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t fully think about what this meant for you. I figured you were happy.”

  “I am happy,” she nearly cried.

  “I meant fully.” His gaze pinned hers.

  “Oh.” Thea dropped her hand from his arm. “Life with you has been wonderful. Better than I dreamed it would be. But, yes, I need the company of others. I am sorry I didn’t tell you that before. I suppose I allowed you to believe I was fine with all this time spent alone.”

  Gently seizing her wrist, Wakefield pulled her into his arms. Thea closed her eyes and buried her face in his firm chest, breathing in his familiar scent of earth and soap.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said, laying his broad palm on her cheek. “You can go to the Mullins’. I didn’t know you’d gotten so friendly with the missus there.”

  “She’s very nice,” Thea murmured into his shirt.

  “But can we agree to not have you go exploring past their house?” Wakefield cupped Thea’s chin and turned her face up to his. “Unless you’re with me.”

  “Yes. I can agree to that.”

  “Good,” he sighed.

  Thea licked her lips. There was something she wanted to ask—needed to ask—and her mouth had gone dry at the thought of it.

  “Wakefield,” she whispered, “what happened?”

  “Hmm?” He scrunched his nose.

  “Why are you so afraid of losing me?”

  The look of alarm that passed through his eyes was so quick. It was only there for a second, but Thea didn’t miss it.

  “Nothing,” he answered, his face impassive. “I love you. I told you that. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Thea sucked in her bottom lip. He had responded as if she’d said something wrong. It had only been a question, though.

  One he clearly did not want to answer.

  Was this about more than men with ill intent coming for her? Was it because of his first wife? Did she leave suddenly? Pack everything up while he was at work and vanish?

  If so, why? What had happened between the two of them?

  “I have to get back to the saloon,” Wakefield said. “We can talk more about this tonight if you want.”

  Thea nodded. “Yes.”

  Wakefield took a step away, then paused. “I don’t want to scare you away.”

  A fist closed over Thea’s heart, and she gritted her teeth so as not to cry out. So she’d been right, hadn’t she? Wakefield’s first wife has left suddenly, and, likely, he blamed himself for it.

  “I do not find you intimidating,” Thea said.

  Wakefield smiled, but the sadness was still in his eyes. Or maybe it had always been there, and she hadn’t noticed it.

  “Wakefield.”

  “Yes?”

  Thea opened her mouth, about to let the question that burned in her loose. What happened to your wife? Why did she leave?

  But she’d seen the agony on Wakefield’s face. She couldn’t give the words breath. Not on that day.

  “Have a good afternoon. I will see you at supper.”

  Wakefield nodded, trailed his fingers over the top of her hand, and turned from the house.

  Thea stayed by the doorway, watching until he disappeared.

  Did he plan on ever telling her the details of his first marriage? Or did he hope it would never need mentioning?

  Thea looked down at her hands and found them shaking. Pressing her palms together, she went into the house. Perhaps a little piano was needed before she resumed her chores.

  Her fingers shook over the keys as well, though. Huffing in exasperation, Thea closed the lid and turned around on the piano bench. Pushing her hands between her thighs, she locked her knees together to keep them in place.

  The birds sang. The shadows lengthened another inch. And still, Thea trembled.

  Chapter 18

  questions were the last thing

  18. Wakefield

  Chapter eighteen

  “I want you to spend time at the saloon,” Wakefield said.

  Thea’s hands stilled in the middle of cutting potatoes for supper. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open.

  “You do?” she asked.

  Wakefield gave a single nod. He’d spent the whole afternoon thinking about it. The situation wasn’t ideal, but nothing was. After coming home that afternoon and finding his wife missing, Wakefield had thought his heart would explode from terror.

  He could no longer stand the thought of not knowing where she was or what she was doing. He didn’t want to tell her any of this because he knew a lot of his fear was likely irrational. But maybe he could use it. Maybe there was a way for them to both get a bit more of what they wanted.

  “If you want to,” Wakefield answered. “We could use a little more help there in the afternoons. Cleaning and such. I was thinking we could go th
ere together in the mornings, come home for lunch, and then I’ll head back down there. If you have the time to do that and still get all your work here done.”

  Thea put her fork and knife down. “Yes, I can do that.”

  “Do you… do you want to?”

  Thea blinked, and a gentle smile pulled her lips. “Yes, it sounds like fun.”

  Wakefield laughed. “I’ve never thought of work in that way, but I figured it would be one way for you to get out some.” He nodded with satisfaction. “And, of course, you can go to the Mullins. Just let me know when you plan on doing that. I need to know where you are at all times.”

  “Of course.” Thea reached across the table and took Wakefield’s hand. “Again, I am sorry.”

  “I am, too.” He set his other hand on top of hers, holding her delicate fingers in his grasp. “I flew off the handle when I came home today and...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “No one is perfect.”

  Wakefield snorted. “I know that’s the truth.”

  Letting go of her hand, he picked up his fork. The problem had been fixed. Everything was well once more.

  “Wakefield?”

  “Mmm?” He took a big bite of potato.

  “Will you tell me more about your past?”

  He chewed the bite of potato very slowly as he thought of how to answer. Finishing up the bite, he took a big gulp of water and cleared his throat. “What would you like to know?”

  “Tell me about when you came out West.”

  “When I came out West...” Wakefield leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t given those days any deep thought in years.

  “Noah said the two of you worked on the railroad.”

  “Right. But, not at first.”

  Thea traced her fingertip along the top of her water glass. “What did you do before then?”

  The genuine interest on her face made Wakefield want to open up and tell her everything. He couldn’t do that, but he could share most of his history.

  “I came out West when I was seventeen, with my cousin Michael and some friends of his. Up till then, I’d spent my whole life in that little town outside of Baltimore. I only ever went to the city maybe four or five times. Other than that, I spent every day on my family’s farm.”

  “Sounds similar to my childhood. Except, of course, the farm was a mill. And then what happened? Why did you leave?”

  “Michael had always been adventurous. He’s a couple years older than me, and he’s a trail guide now.”

  “A trail guide?”

  “He leads settlers Westward. Starting in Ohio; going as far as California.”

  Thea’s eyes widened. “That sounds dangerous.”

  “It’s what he loves.”

  “So the two of you left Maryland, and you started working on the railroad right away?”

  Wakefield paused. Before that evening, he’d never considered telling Thea what he was about to. Would she see him differently once the conversation was over?

  “Not right away. I did… other things for about five years. Michael went and worked on a ranch, and I got involved in a trade I regret.”

  Thea’s eyebrows rose. She was waiting for him to go on, but Wakefield needed a moment to gather the bravery. It wasn’t every day that he confessed his sins.

  “I started robbing wagon trains and stagecoaches.”

  Thea’s face went pale so fast he worried she would faint.

  “I’m not proud of it,” he said quickly. “After five years of it, I gave that life up. I went to church and asked God for His forgiveness. After that, it was the railroad, where I met Noah. And then I had my saloon in Cheyenne. That burned down after a few years, and then I came here.”

  Wakefield rested his arms on the table and leaned into them. “Do you see me differently now?”

  Thea rested her fingers against her lips, looking deep in thought. “I do not know how I could not.”

  Wakefield’s gut twisted. “I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was.”

  “Oh, but you are.”

  “Huh?”

  “Wakefield.”

  In a flash, she was out of her chair and kneeling next to his. “We all have done things we regret. I see you in front of me now, Wakefield, and I know you’re a good man.” She took his hand, the warmth of her fingers traveled up his arm.

  “Not as good as you.” Wakefield ran his palm down her shoulder.

  “Did you… ever kill anyone?”

  “No,” he said, relieved he could give her that one assurance.

  “Why did you leave?”

  He worked to unclench his jaw. “The leader of the posse I was with killed someone. Before that, I’d been able to lie to myself and say what we were doing wasn’t all that bad. But it was. Even without the killing.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “For what? I did it to myself. I’m lucky to have made it out not dead and not in jail.”

  “But I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

  “Thea. Get up.” Gently, he guided her to standing and pulled her into his lap, where she wrapped her arm around his neck. “It made me who I am today. And I know that only God can judge me for my sins. My time will come, just as everyone’s will.”

  “Wakefield.” Her arm tightened around his neck. “Do your outlaw days have anything to do with… with your first wife? With your marriage ending?”

  Wakefield stiffened at the same time there was a knock at the door.

  “Who is that?” Thea asked.

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled, setting her to standing and going to the door.

  “Who is it?” he asked through the wood.

  “It’s Esme,” came the woman’s voice.

  Wakefield pulled the door open, finding Daniel Zimmerman’s little housekeeper standing there. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she held something covered in a cloth. Breathing in, Wakefield smelled fresh bread.

  “Mr. Briggs.” Esme grinned wide, making her wrinkles deepen.

  “Esme. Come on in.”

  Wakefield gestured for her to enter. Her appearance had come at the right time. He hadn’t had a clue as to how he would answer Thea’s question.

  “This is my wife, Thea,” he said. “Thea, this is Esme. She’s Mr. Zimmerman’s housekeeper.”

  The two women shook hands, and Esme cast a look at the table. “I apologize. I did not mean to interrupt your meal. I only wanted to bring some fresh bread by.”

  “We are eating early tonight,” Thea explained, setting the bread on the table. “And your visit is no trouble at all. The bread smells wonderful.”

  “Oh, you are beautiful,” Esme said.

  Thea pressed a hand to her cheek as she blushed. “Thank you.”

  “Is she not?” Esme asked, looking to Wakefield.

  “I think so,” he said.

  “She shines.” Esme’s gaze dipped down Thea’s frame, taking her in from head to toe. Suddenly, she clapped her hands, making Wakefield jerk. “I must go. Come and see me soon, Mrs. Briggs. It’s the big, white house. You won’t miss it.”

  Thea’s eyes darted Wakefield’s way. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”

  “You have a good night,” Esme said.

  “You, too,” Wakefield answered, closing the door behind her.

  “Well?” Thea asked. “What do you say to me visiting her? I will need to take her something anyway, as a thank you for the bread.”

  No, he wanted to say. It’s too dangerous.

  Wakefield scratched his jaw. “The house is close enough. I can walk you over there.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Tomorrow.”

  They stayed where they stood, neither making a move to go back to their seats.

  “Wakefield.”

  “Yes?” he asked, knowing full well what was to come next.

  “Were you going to answer my question? About your first wife?”

  Wakefield hung his head, his bones fe
eling heavy as iron. “She left because I wasn’t the man she thought I was.”