Page 67 of Fairest of Heart

She turned in his hold and raised a hand to his face. “Your concern is endearing, Cecil, but I’m a professional. I know what I’m doing. Now, help me into the wagon. I have cider to sell and a promise to keep.”

She’d warned Penelope of the cost of betrayal, and the time had come for her to pay the price.

Narcissa situated herself on the driver’s bench and arranged her skirts just so. She reached up to her bonnet and pulled down the heavy mourning veil that would guard her identity, then took up the reins. Confidence flowed through her, tempting her to straighten her spine like the regal queen she was, but she did not submit to the urge. Instead, she hunched her shoulders and bent her back, leaving Madame LaBelle behind and becoming Agatha Bower, the sweet, downtrodden widow who would destroy Penelope Snow once and for all.

Jeb took his guardianship duty seriously. He’d not left the porch for more than a handful of minutes since Doc and the others had left. With Angus in the midst of his after-lunch doze and Ike working in the garden, Penelope had taken it upon herself to keep Jeb company. Her new dress in her lap, she worked her needle through the fabric, hemming the skirt and praying her ploy would keep Mr. Hunt away from the ranch. The Diamond D men didn’t deserve to be tangled up in her trouble.

Penelope set her needle aside and rubbed her palm on her apron. The day wasn’t overly warm, but her nerves had her sweating, making it difficult to ply her needle effectively.

“Ya don’t have to worry none.” Jeb’s gruff voice drew Penelope’s gaze. He turned his attention from the road, his eyes speaking promises that caused her heart to squeeze. “I won’t let Hunt hurt ya.”

She forced a smile as she reached for his arm. “I know. It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Something tender softened Jeb’s eyes for a heartbeat before he jerked his head away and resumed his vigil on the road. “We ain’t worth your worry, Miss Penny. Just a bunch of old goats that done lived their lives already. If it’s our time, it’s our time. You, on the other hand, got your whole life yet to live. Gettin’ married, havin’ babies.”

“Jeb!” She swatted his arm lightly, a chuckle covering her embarrassment. “I don’t even have a suitor. You can’t go marrying me off and giving me babies all in one breath.”

His mouth twitched. She would have called it a smile on anyone else, but she knew Jeb would deny it.

“I seen the way Titus looks at you.” He gave her a sideways glance. “If that boy ain’t got marriage on his mind, I’ll eat my hat.”

Heat scalded her cheeks even as pleasure blossomed in her chest. Was Jeb right? Did Titus really think of her in those terms? Heaven knew she’d thought about him in that way for quite some time. She’d not allowed herself to go so far as to imagine children, but—

Penelope straightened. “Did you hear that?”

Jeb fit his hands around the rifle in his lap. “What?”

“I’m not sure.” She peered down the road, unable to see beyond the bend. “Harness, maybe?”

Just then, Ike came into view, scurrying up to the house as fast as his arthritic knees would allow. “We got company.”

Jeb pushed to his feet, rifle clutched across his body. “Rider?”

Ike shook his head. “Wagon. Driven by a woman.”

“Any sign of Hunt?” Jeb moved to the edge of the porch, his gaze locked on the road.

“Not that I could see, but you know my eyes aren’t as sharp as they used to be.”

Jeb spared a quick glance for Penelope. “Wake Angus. Then stay inside the house. We’ll deal with this.”

Penelope set aside her sewing and hurried inside. Finding Angus snoring on the sofa, she touched his shoulder. “Angus?”

He snorted and tried to brush her hand away.

She raised her voice. “Angus!”

He startled, saw her bending over him, and widened his eyes. “Trouble?”

“I don’t know. Jeb’s calling for you, though.”

He ran a hand down his face and over his beard, then pushed up to a sitting position and reached for the gun belt hooked over the arm of the sofa. “On my way.” He stood and fastened his belt around his hips. “Stay here, Miss Penny.”

She nodded. She’d stay inside. For now. But the moment she was needed, she’d be out the door in a heartbeat. Petitioning the Lord to keep the men safe, she took up vigil at the window and opened it wide. She’d be keeping both her ears and her eyes peeled.

A weathered buckboard rolled into view, a figure in black at the reins. A widow, by the looks of her. Dressed head to toe in black with only a gray shawl to add a touch of hope to the mourning attire. She looked weary, hunched in her seat, her shoulders drooping, her veiled face downcast. The pair of nags pulling the wagon seemed as worn as their mistress, their heads low as they plodded forward.

“We ain’t acceptin’ visitors,” Jeb announced. “Turn yer rig around and head on back the way ya came.”