Even now, five years later, it hurt like blue blazes to think about the wife and child he’d lost. “That’s it.”
“Georgia said Mr. Bram hasn’t been here all that long.”
Why was Miz York so all-fired interested in his family? Or was it only Bram? “He’s a drover.”
“Drives cattle?”
He nodded, dark thoughts creeping in. Of his resentment over Delia leaving him the way she had, of her brother, whom Jake didn’t want to feel responsible for anymore. “A lot of ranchers are sending their cattle to market and slaughter by train so work on the cattle drives is drying up. Bram came home about five months ago to work with me and Uncle Ike.”
“How long have your uncle and Georgia lived with you?”
“Always.” His jaw tightened. His whole family lived at the ranch and Jake liked it. Being cast off by their own mother, it was the only home he and Bram had ever known.
For a few short years after marrying, Jake had had all he’d ever wanted except a child with Delia. He’d wanted that more than anything and that desire had killed his wife. Now she was gone and so was his hope of having a family. Pretty much his interest in having one, too.
Jake hoped Miz York would shut up now. He was talked out. She sure did ask a lot of questions for someone who wasn’t all that free with information about herself. He didn’t mind answering some questions, but when she ventured into territory that made him think about his wife, he’d had enough.
They were less than a mile from the Circle R when a slow shrieking noise split the air. At the same instant Jake realized what it meant, a sharp crack sounded. The wagon hit the ground hard on Miz York’s side, the right front wheel splintering.
Before he could grab her, she pitched out of the wagon into the tall grass. She cried out, her skirts flying up to reveal the hem of a petticoat and a flash of white stockings. The crash jolted the baby and she screamed then began to sob. The horse drew up abruptly.
With a sick feeling in his gut, Jake half slid, half scrambled out of the wagon to check the little girl. Though he didn’t want to, he moved his hands over her. She was carrying on as if her tail were on fire, but she didn’t appear to be hurt. No blood, no scratches, no immediately visible broken bones.
He turned, looking for the baby nurse. Where was she? There, yards away, her pink calico dress almost hidden by the tall grass. He strode toward her. “Miz York!”
He told himself to remain calm, but as he moved, a black rage began to build. Knowing that wheel was weak, he’d told Waylon two days ago to fix it after he and Uncle Ike had returned from Whirlwind. Now Miz York might be hurt. The baby could’ve been, too.
Jake reached the slight woman just as she pushed herself to a sitting position. Her glasses were gone, tendrils of brown hair escaping from her chignon.
“Are you all right?” He knelt, but she got quickly to her feet, swaying slightly then steadying herself.
“The baby! Where’s the baby?”
“She’s still in the wagon.” He stood.
The nurse rushed past him.
“She’s okay. Are you?” A glitter in the grass caught his eye and he picked up her spectacles just before stepping on them. They were scratched, but not broken.
“Did you just leave her there?” Her voice trembled with anger. “Did you check on her at all?”
“Of course I did!” he snapped as he followed her to the wagon. What did she think he was, a coldhearted SOB? “She wasn’t bleeding, she wasn’t scratched, she didn’t appear to be hurt, but I wasn’t so sure about you. I’m still not. Did you bust anything?”
“I think I’m fine.” Reaching over the side of the wagon, she gathered the sobbing infant to her, cuddling her close and murmuring to her.
He sure couldn’t fault her care or concern for that child. As she turned toward him, Jake saw a cut over her left eyebrow and a scratch along the line of her jaw. Fury exploded inside him. His fist closed, nearly crushing her glasses. He ripped off his hat and started toward her.
Her eyes went wide and she backed up so fast she hit the side of the wagon. Her arm came up as if to ward off a blow. “Stay away! Stay back.”
“What?” Jake frowned, his gaze skipping over her, looking for further injuries. Maybe she’d taken a hit to the head. Waylon was going to answer for this.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” Holding the baby with one arm, she fumbled at her skirt pocket.
It registered then, how her voice shook, how the color had drained from her face. And Jake understood. She thought he was coming after her. She thought he was going to hit her!
That stopped him cold in his tracks a few feet away from her, cooling the rage pumping through his blood. A deep pain sliced at him. “You think I would hurt you? I would never—”
“Please, please stop.” She kept her hand in her pocket.
He realized he had taken another step toward her. He halted, reeling with disbelief and realization. Someone had hit her before. That made Jake angry all over again, but he struggled to keep it from showing.
“I’ll back up,” he said as he did it. The woman was terrified, her green eyes huge in her pale face. The distrust on her face twisted his gut. “I’m not coming closer, see? I’ll stay right here.”
After long seconds, she nodded, her pretty eyes full of turmoil.
Crushing his hat in his fist, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
The wariness in her eyes was so deep, so dark that he wanted to gather her to him and soothe her until she knew there was no need to fear him. But that would probably scare her spitless. “Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said tautly, her arms wrapped so tightly around the baby that the little girl protested with a loud noise.
“You have a cut above your eye. Your left one.”
She reached up to touch it, looking surprised at the blood on her fingers. “I’m all right.”
She was as frightened and defensive as a wounded animal. He could see she wasn’t going to let him get any closer and they needed to get home before dark. “I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna unhitch the mare. I’ll walk and you and the…baby can ride back to the ranch.”
She looked at the horse, then the damaged wagon. “I’ll walk, instead,” she said quickly.
He started to insist she ride then realized he would have to help her mount. She didn’t want him putting his hands on her.
Agreeing to let her walk went against everything his uncle had taught him about how to treat a lady, but Ike hadn’t seen the pure-dee terror in Emma York’s face when she’d thought Jake was going to hit her. “Are you sure you won’t ride—”
“I’m sure.”
The unsteadiness of her voice told him she was still afraid. He didn’t blame her. She didn’t know him well enough to know that she didn’t need to fear him. “If you’re in pain or hurt anywhere else,” he said gruffly, “I can carry her.”
“I’ll do it.”
He knew the relief was plain on his face when her mouth tightened. After placing her glasses carefully on the corner of the lopsided wagon, he walked around the mare’s head to the other side. Letting Emma York know she had plenty of room.
Jake jammed his hat on his head. After making sure the mare was uninjured, he unhitched her and looped the wagon reins into one hand. Letting his nurse walk to the ranch, especially carrying the baby, grated