you to post for me.”
Suspicion was easy to read in his narrowed eyes. “Why ask me? Why not your brother or whoever’s going into town?”
“Please, Jake, none of them will do it.” Quickly, before he said no, she turned around, opened her cloak and retrieved the letter from her bodice. “Here.” She heard the uncertainty and pleading in her own voice.
“Emily.” There was a plea in his voice, as well. “Don’t ask me to do this.” He closed her cloak, rebuttoning it against the cold she had barely been aware of. “Your family doesn’t want you to contact him. I don’t want you to contact him.”
“You said you wouldn’t judge him.” She thrust the letter toward him, hoping once he took it in his hand he would give in.
“I tried not to. I want the best for you, Emily. I just can’t believe he’s the best.”
“How is it your place to decide what’s best for me?” She was failing. He was too stubborn. She felt tears sting her eyes and tried to blink them away. He would think she was using them as a weapon.
“You’re right.” He lifted the letter from her fingers. “Friends need to trust each other. And count on each other. I’ll mail your letter.”
“Jake.” She threw her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. “I knew I could count on you,” she murmured.
His arms encircled her, holding her closer. The tears she had held back earlier trickled down her cheek. She was warm and safe in his arms and reluctant to leave them.
Finally he drew her away. She quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks and smiled up at him. “Thanks, Jake,” she whispered.
He nodded solemnly. She thought for a moment that he would say something, but he slipped the letter into his coat pocket, stepped around her and walked away.
Jake walked into his parents’ home, knowing it was empty. His mother would be busy at the Prescotts’ until well after supper. If his father finished whatever Christian needed him to do this afternoon, he would be more likely to spend his free time with his wife in the big house than to come back here. No, he would be alone, and that suited him.
The house was dim, but he didn’t light a lamp. He stood across the room from the front window and watched for Emily to walk past. He should have taken her arm and seen her safely to her door. He should still do it.
But he couldn’t He didn’t trust himself to be that close to her. He was liable to take her into his arms and tell her he loved her. He had come too damn close already.
He saw her pass on the path, her head down, walking fast. She would be safe and warm in no time. He didn’t have to feel guilty. He took a step closer to the window, then another, to watch her until she was out of sight.
Why did he let her do this to him? He should thoroughly dislike her for falling for that jailbird, for defying her parents, for using him.
For not wanting the love he was so willing to give her.
He was a fool. It was that simple and too late to change.
He unbuttoned his coat but didn’t take it off. The room was cold, and he didn’t want to light a fire. He wouldn’t stay here long. He pulled the letter from his pocket and studied the clear, even lettering. Anson Berkeley. He wanted to destroy it, not mail it! He wanted to light that fire after all and watch the letter turn to ashes!
The violence of his reaction horrified him. He didn’t trust himself to hold on to the letter for long. He shoved it back into his pocket and rebuttoned his coat. If he left now he could make it back before dark.
Half an hour later he was riding toward town. It hadn’t been hard to convince his father that he needed to check in with his boss in Cottonwood Falls. It was an excuse he had used many times to avoid being on the ranch when Emily was expected. His mother might have been more difficult to convince, but he had left her to his father.
The cold crisp air in his face as he rode cleared his mind. He had started to harbor hopes about Emily again. The letter was a reminder that she would never be his. His purpose wasn’t to win her away from Berkeley but to protect her from him. He couldn’t do that if his mind was clouded with fantasies.
Of course, mailing this letter wasn’t a particularly good way of protecting her, either. He should never have agreed to do it. But perhaps Berkeley would get the letter and not respond. Perhaps he had already forgotten her.
Perhaps. But it wasn’t likely. This letter would probably encourage him. It might be the one thing he needed to send him out after Emily. Thank heaven, the man was in jail.
It was midafternoon when Jake rode into Strong. He posted the letter first, afraid that any delay might cause him to accidentally lose the letter. Then, still convinced he had done the wrong thing, he rode on to the river bridge and into Cottonwood Falls.
The courthouse, situated at the end of the main street, dominated the town. He rode toward it, taking in the activity on either side of him out of habit. He watered his horse at the trough before tying him and going inside.
Sheriff Tom Chaffee was in his office in the basement. He looked up from his cluttered desk when Jake walked in. “Afternoon, son. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“I know,” Jake said, taking a seat across from his boss. “I was in town and thought I’d see if you have any word from Topeka.” Tom would know what particular news he was after.
Tom winced. “You’re not going to like this.”
Jake tried to keep his face from showing his alarm. “What?”
The spring in Tom’s chair squeaked as he rocked back. “The boy’s out. Seems his folks paid for all the damages, and the old fella agreed to drop the charges.”
“When did this happen?”
Tom took a moment before he answered. “I got word last night.”
Jake felt his temper rise and knew it was unreasonable. He hoped his boss couldn’t sense how he felt.
Tom’s next words made him think he could. “I’m a little shorthanded here to be sending someone out to the ranch with messages. Besides, you’re supposed to be on vacation, and this case is way out of our jurisdiction.”
”The police will let us know if anything else happens, won’t they?”
Tom brought his chair back to an upright position and bent over his desk. “I’m sure the Prescotts will let their son know if anything else happens.” He found his place on the form and resumed writing.
Jake had been dismissed. He rose slowly and turned toward the door.
“Oh, and Jake?”
Jake turned back. “Yes, sir?”
Tom didn’t look up. “Maybe you should concentrate on winning the little gal’s affection and forget about the competition.”
Jake paused, looking at his boss’s bent head for the space of four heartbeats. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left the office. He took the stairs two at a time, imagining his boss having a good chuckle at his expense once he was out of earshot. He shouldn’t be surprised that Tom had guessed his real interest in the case. Loyalty to the Prescott family wouldn’t be enough to make him quite so eager to see Berkeley punished.
He walked into the fresh, cold air, trying to will his frustration away. He shouldn’t expect the sheriff to send someone all the way out to the ranch at the slightest word on the case. Emily probably wasn’t in any immediate danger from Berkeley, anyway.
At least not until he got her letter.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He strode to his horse and mounted. All the way back through Cottonwood Falls, and across the bridge, he argued with himself. Should he try to get the letter back from