He nodded. “Thanks, I’m starving.”
Sarah left the room, and he went to the window, staring up the hill at the barn. This was a mistake. He liked having Sarah here. He liked it too much. He knew he was hard to live with and wondered how long she would stay before he drove her away, too.
The house already felt alive in a way it hadn’t since he’d moved in. It embarrassed him that he’d left it in such a state of disrepair. He wasn’t sure why he had. Perhaps because he’d loved the house on sight and thought it deserved a family, not a crippled old ghost rattling around within its walls.
Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he thought of the horses and blessed his two hired hands, Joe and Hank, for taking care of them when he was too incapacitated to do it himself.
He needed to pull himself together. He needed to make some changes. It was unbearable to know that people pitied him.
“Luke?”
At her call, he left the parlor and made his way into the kitchen.
She put a few slices of bread on a plate and set it on the table, gestured for him to sit down, and then took her place across from him. She’d made a rich, creamy potato soup swimming with bits of bacon, and the bread was still warm from the oven.
She watched him anxiously, her shoulders relaxing when he made a soft sound of approval.
“This is good.”
“I didn’t know what to make,” she told him, taking a bite herself. “I didn’t know how to cook until the war. All our people ran off and someone had to learn how. But there was never much to eat, so I’m afraid my menu will be limited.”
Our people. Her words disturbed him, reminding him that they were worlds apart in some ways. He also disliked the reminder of the hardships she’d faced, in part because of what he’d fought for.
Even during his worst days in the Union Army, he’d never gone hungry. But he’d seen the people of the South suffering. He’d seen the barren fields and looted houses.
He cleared his throat, trying in vain to push the images away. “Just make a list of everything you need that isn’t already here. I’ll send one of the men into town to pick it up.”
“There are others on the ranch?”
“Yeah, I have a few men living in the bunkhouse down by the river. They help me take care of the horses.”
“Horses? Is that what you do here?” She sounded doubtful, and he realized he’d shown damned little evidence of his profession since she’d arrived.
He trusted the men. They could run the ranch without his help, but he loved the work. It had been his salvation at times.
“Did you think I spent all my time drunk in bed?”
Sarah glanced away, color rising in her cheeks. “No. Of course not.”
He took a deep breath, struggling not to get angry. If he wanted her to believe he was more than a self-absorbed drunk, he’d have to show her with actions, not words. “I’m trying to breed some good mountain horses. The men I hired have forgotten more about horses than I’ll ever know, but I’m learning.”
“I’m sure you’ll do very well,” Sarah murmured. “You’re an extraordinary man.”
He frowned. It made him uncomfortable to think she was talking about his foot. He wished she’d pretend not to notice.
“It must have been nice to live out here during the war,” she murmured after a lengthy silence. “Away from all the death and fighting. You didn’t have to worry about the damned Yankees destroying everything your family worked so hard to build, killing everyone you ever loved.”
Matt had told her he hadn’t fought in the war, and he wanted to strangle the bastard all over again. How could he tell her he’d fought for the Union? He didn’t want to see the light in her eyes turn to hatred. She was such a ferocious little Confederate; she’d surely see him as the enemy. She’d never understand his views. He’d gone against most of his family and friends, lost almost everything he loved because of his fierce beliefs.
“There were troops out here from both sides. There were even a few minor skirmishes. I don’t think anyone in the entire country remained unscathed.”
There. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but he’d managed to evade the truth quite well.
Sarah toyed with her soup, a faraway look in her eyes. “Union marauders came to our plantation just before the end of the war. They stole everything we had left and raped my sister, Rachel.”
“God, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He reached across the table and took her hand, offering whatever comfort he could.
She blinked away the sheen of tears in her eyes. “You can’t imagine the way people treated her after that. Our neighbors shunned her. They all seemed to think she’d done something to deserve it.”
