“Yes, I did,” he said, then shot her a half smile. “But, as you said earlier, I guess I was wrong.”
She glanced at the fields thoughtfully. “You know, I can’t hear the words ‘God’s will’ without thinking about my parents’ deaths.”
“Why?”
“After they died, I can’t tell you the number of people who tried to comfort me by saying that. ‘It’s God’s will.’ It became almost more of a cliché than ‘He needed them in Heaven.’” She swallowed, then shook her head. “I remember thinking if that was God’s will then I didn’t want it.”
“You were grieving,” he reminded gently. “People think all sorts of things they don’t mean when they’re grieving.”
Yes, but I meant it. She pulled her gaze from the field to meet his. The sympathy there unnerved her. What had she been thinking? She’d told a stranger more than she told her close friends. There was aura of warmth about Nathan that made it easy to talk to him.
It was like the feeling she’d had when they first met: an implicit knowing. It hadn’t made sense then. Now she knew it stemmed from the information he’d received through the letters. He knew enough about her without her confiding even more.
They were both quiet for a while, then Nathan tilted his head to gesture toward the field. “How do you normally bring in the harvest? I guess it’s nothing like herding cattle.”
She smiled. “Probably not. The harvesters are coming in about a month. They have a big machine that goes through the field and cuts the wheat. After that they use another machine to separate the wheat from the hay. They’ll take fifteen percent of our wheat as payment.”
Nathan glanced at her in surprise. “They take fifteen percent of a crop this small? That seems like a lot.”
Kate frowned at him. “First of all, this isn’t a small crop. It’s even larger than the one I planted last year. Secondly, there isn’t much I can do about the cost of the combine unless I want to use a scythe. It would take much longer for me to do it that way by myself. I wouldn’t get it to the market on schedule.”
“I see your point.”
She glanced up at the sky, realizing she’d gotten distracted. “Speaking of time, I’d better get back to my chores.”
“Can I help?”
“You can rest or go explore the farm by yourself.” He looked frustrated by her statement but she pinned him with a look. “No working. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
He caught her arm before she could turn away. “Before you leave, you should know I’m planning to go to town tomorrow to find out what needs to be done for the annulment. You might want to come with me in case there’s something that can be done right away.”
“That sounds fine. I have some supplies to pick up from the mercantile anyway. You can take care of the paperwork. Just come get me when I’m needed, and we might be able to finish this matter then and there.” Strangely enough, she couldn’t make herself smile at the thought.
As she walked away from him she realized she’d taken a dangerous step by finding out so much more about Nathan. He wasn’t a stranger anymore. He was a man she could sympathize with. He had feelings, hopes and dreams that deserved respect. She was going to crush one of those dreams when she signed that annulment, but it couldn’t be helped. She’d forget about the man she’d known for a few days. He’d forget about her and move on just as easily. That’s all there was to it.
Nathan hit his Stetson against his leg impatiently, then leaned against the wall of the cramped waiting room of the only courthouse in a fifty-mile radius, fidgeting uncomfortably as the cut on his back started to itch. He hoped that meant it had already scarred over but he couldn’t be entirely sure since he couldn’t actually see the wound.
The note Doc had given him said to change the dressing every day but he hadn’t done that because he couldn’t reach it. He knew he was supposed to ask for Kate’s help but he couldn’t get himself to ask. He’d be long gone in a few hours anyway so it hardly mattered now.
He’d considered getting a job in Peppin, but that would mean seeing Kate and knowing she thought of him as nothing more than a mistake. Perhaps he should contact Davis Reynolds. The Rutledge and Reynolds families had been neighbors in Oklahoma. The Reynolds main crop had been cattle but they’d also maintained a beautiful herd of horses. As a teenager, Nathan had sneaked away to the Reynolds’ farm to watch the ranch hands work with the horses. Eventually, Davis had recognized his passion, taken Nathan under his wing and taught Nathan everything he knew about raising horses.
Nathan’s father had never gotten along with Davis and was chagrined to watch the man encourage what he called Nathan’s goofing off. He’d begun to restrict Nathan’s freedom more and more. The less freedom he had, the more he’d yearned for it. He dreamed of wandering the open plains as a cowboy. He’d longed for the chance to combine the skills he’d developed with horses with the knowledge that had been drilled into him about cattle.
When the Reynolds family had sold their ranch and decided to move to Texas, Nathan traveled with them. They parted ways not long after passing the state line. Davis made Nathan promise to send word if he ever needed anything. Now it looked as though he needed a new future—again. He’d be willing to settle for a new job.
He looked up as a small man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose stepped into the waiting room. “Who’s next?”
“I am,” Nathan said. He walked into the office to find shelves of books lined the wall while a large mahogany desk stood in the middle of the floor.
“Sit right down there,” the man said before sitting behind the desk. “What can I help you with?”
Nathan sat, placing his hat on his knee. “I’d like to receive an—” His throat closed as he tried to get the word out. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “I’d like to find out how to receive an annul—annulment.”
The man sat up in his chair. “Do you mean a marriage annulment?”
Nathan’s affirmation was low.
The man took off his spectacles to clean them on his shirt. “Well, how about that? I don’t remember the last time someone asked for one of those.”
Nathan shifted his hat to his other knee.
Placing his spectacles back on his nose, the man peered over them. “I sure hope you aren’t leaving some little lady high and dry.”
He smiled ruefully. “No, it’s kind of the opposite.”
The man laughed in an almost cackling sort of way. “Well, how about that? Run you off, did she?”
He cleared his throat nervously. “Well, not exactly.”
“I wouldn’t take that from my little woman,” the man said between laughs, then, taking a gasping breath, continued. “You shouldn’t give up on one of those little spitfires. I’ve heard tell they’re mighty fun to tame.”
Nathan shifted in his chair, causing his hat to fall to the ground. He picked it up and placed it back on his knee. “So do you think you can give me one?”
“One what? Annulment?”
He began to grow impatient. Isn’t that what this whole conversation is about? “Yes, an annulment.”
The man removed his spectacles to wipe away his tears of laughter. “No. I don’t think I can.”
Nathan shot to his feet, then wished he hadn’t when a searing pain ran across his back. Had he just broken the cut open? “What do you mean you can’t? Why can’t you?”
“Sit down, sit down. No use getting all excited about it.”
Eyes narrowed, he carefully sat in the