Page 63 of West Wind

Jacob blushed. “Just a fiddler, ma’am.”

She turned to Shelley. She wanted him to be proud of her; she searched for some reaction. His eyes were often unreadable, but at the moment they held none of the warmth she’d seen there earlier.

“Your wife sings like an angel,” Jacob said.

Shelley never took his guarded eyes off her. “She’s not my wife,” he said without emotion. “I’m just escorting her to San Francisco.”

“Oh.” Their host frowned slightly. “We’ll need to change your arrangements, in that case. The boys can sleep on pallets in our room, and Annie can sleep in the loft. I just assumed…”

“I should’ve made our situation clear,” Shelley said sharply.

Annabelle pursed her lips slightly. What was wrong with him? He could’ve lied and claimed she was his wife, as he had in Salt Lake City, or at the very least kept his mouth shut and let the Filmores assume that was true. Instead he’d coldly dismissed her. They’d be forced to spend the night apart.

He didn’t even say good night as he and Jacob left the house to smoke their cigars, leaving her and Mary Beth to clear away the dishes and put the boys to bed.

“How embarrassing,” Mary Beth said as she straightened and cleaned. “I must admit, I assumed the same as Jacob. You two just look…” She quieted suddenly. “Jacob would never allow an unmarried couple to sleep in his barn. It’s not proper.” She spun around. “I know. You two are going to be married in California, aren’t you? Why don’t you stay here for a few days and let Jacob perform the ceremony. A barn might not make a very romantic honeymoon spot, but⁠—”

“Shelley and I aren’t going to be married. He’s simply escorting me to California, as he said.” She gave Mary Beth a tired smile. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Mary Beth frowned and shook her head. She looked as baffled as Annabelle felt. The change had come over Shelley too quickly. She was so confused she couldn’t even muster anger, not just yet.

“I’m really exhausted,” Annabelle claimed. “Would you mind…”

“I’ve got a nightgown you can borrow.” Mary Beth walked her to the ladder that led to the loft where the boys normally slept. “Your things will be dry by morning, and I’ll fix you up a big breakfast before you go on your way.”

“Thank you.” Following an unexpected impulse, she hugged Mary Beth enthusiastically. “For the dress, and the bath, and the dinner. For everything.” She pulled back, suddenly remembering something very important.

The dreamcatcher was in her saddlebag, in the barn. She excused herself and stepped into the cool night air. The normally blustery winds were still, for once. Not a night had gone by that she hadn’t slept with the dreamcatcher at her side, and her nightmare hadn’t returned.

She marched past Jacob and Shelley as they talked in low voices, cooly ignoring both of them. Ungrateful, unfeeling men. She marched past them again moments later, the dreamcatcher in her hand, managing a curt “good night” for both of them.

Annie strutted by, her head held high, her dark hair falling from its pinned capture, her hips swinging. She returned to the house quickly but never broke into a run. No, she wouldn’t let him see her run away. He watched without saying a word until she entered the house, slamming the door behind her.

“She don’t seem none too pleased with the two of us,” Jacob offered.

“I’m none too pleased with her myself,” Shelley answered sharply.

Jacob expertly flicked ashes into the dirt, then studied the burning end of his cigar. Shelley recognized that look. Thoughtful, reflective, wondering if opening his mouth would get him flattened.

“Son,” Jacob began, “I’ve been married three times. I’ve got six grown daughters and five daughters-in-law, all of ’em fine-lookin’ women. I must confess, I was quite a ladies man in my younger days, before I found the Lord.”

Shelley glared at the man, unable to hide his growing impatience. “This goin’ somewhere?”

Jacob caught his eye. “I ain’t never seen a woman prettier than that one.”

“Annie?” he asked casually. “She’s not bad-lookin’, I guess.”

Jacob laughed, a sincere and hearty laugh that disturbed the quiet night air. “Son, you don’t fool me. You can fool her, and you can fool yourself, but don’t try to fool me. I’m going to give you some advice,” he added, his voice controlled, calm.

“Don’t want it.”

“Gonna get it anyway,” Jacob insisted kindly. “Marry her.”

Shelley rolled the cigar between his fingers. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not? You already married?”

“Nope.”