you right from wrong anymore, Josie. You’re a grown woman.” She pulled out a dress, surveyed it, and put it back, where she knew it would likely stay for the next six months. “You just need to be careful.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“Do you?” She closed the wardrobe, looking back at me. “Because the shattered young woman I pieced back together five years ago is not someone I want to see you wearing again.”
I bit down on my lip as I felt the burn begin behind my eyes.
“Protect your heart, Josie,” she said. She moved her gaze around the room. “This house, this land—they are just things.” She crossed the space to sit on my bed. “He’s a good man, I can see that. But this thing between you is—”
“Dangerous,” I finished, my voice choked.
The emotion in her face was evident. “And tempting,” she said. “I know. And that’s a gamble. It could be wonderful, or it could be disastrous, but that’s how life is, sweet girl.”
“Did you ever—”
“We aren’t talking about an old woman now,” she said, the mother coming back into her tone as she got up.
“We could be.”
“And yet we’re not,” she said, fixing me with the look. There was a flush to her cheeks with the diversion, however, that I didn’t miss.
“I don’t have that luxury,” I said. “Not with him.” I swallowed hard. “I can’t trust my judgment with him, and that’s not good business.”
“Business,” she echoed, picking imaginary lint off the quilt. “Well, that’s a choice.”
I frowned. “How is it a choice?”
“Between being the strong person I know, or letting your fears rule you,” she said. “If you’re afraid of being broken again, Josie, then you will be. And in that case, you’re right. You can find other places to live, rebuild your life, but there are only so many times you can rebuild yourself.”
I just nodded, looking down at my tray through a haze of hot tears, willing them back. When they wouldn’t be denied, I blinked them free and swiped them quickly away.
“So one, foreclose and lose everything,” I said, pulling apart the croissant. “Or two, marry Martin and keep the ranch, but risk the integrity of it.”
“Or three . . .”
I stuffed the flaky bread into my mouth, not even tasting the warm, buttery goodness before I swallowed, shoving everything else down with it. She was right. I was letting my fear rule me. But I couldn’t put my ranch down as collateral for my heart. It wouldn’t be fair to my employees to hope again and lose. That would be even more disastrous.
I can’t make you trust me.
“There isn’t a three,” I said softly.
Chapter 13
1904
Josie
I was sweeping, pushing, and pulling wet sticks and small debris from the long, wraparound porch when option number two came to call. Martin LaDeen, in all his puffed-up glory and enclosed carriage, rolled up, straightening out his suit as he stepped down.
“Miss Josephine,” he said, brushing his hands over his jacket before stepping up to hold one out to me.
I wasn’t usually a fan of proper greetings, so the lack of a “Miss Bancroft” was on point, but today, for some reason, it rankled me. Perhaps because this man had no personal knowledge of me, and yet wanted me to saddle up with him in spite of it. It felt presumptuous. Then again, today was the day.
“Mr. LaDeen,” I said, taking my time resting my broom against a railing. I turned to let him take my hand in his meatier one just in time to see the disdain color his features.
I had on my daily outfit. Breeches, riding boots, and a top shirt. Sans hat. I had rounds to make shortly, checking on any further damage to the buildings, and I needed to check the herd and double check Malcolm’s estimates on fence repairs. In short, I was at work, and this was my work uniform.
Mr. LaDeen had never seen me in it, however. We’d only met twice, once when I was meeting with my accountant in town and again at the party, both times looking much more put together than now. Then again, if he’d worked here at the Lucky B once, when Ben was here, he would have. My daily wear hadn’t changed in five years.
“I hope my unannounced visit doesn’t offend,” he said, kissing the backs of my fingers a little too long. It was all I could do not to yank them back and wipe my hand on my shirt. “Or catch