She Was Sold Beside Her Sister, The Cowboy Said “You’ll Both Have A Home With Me”

Chapter 6

The weeks before the church social were a whirlwind. Mrs. Beale organized it like a general, Rose took charge of the decorations, and Eliza handled the guest list and the games. It was a strange and lovely thing, planning a party in a house that had been quiet for so long.

One night, a week before the social, Eliza stayed late in the study. Garrett appeared with two cups of coffee. “Mrs. Beale thought you might need this. She’s gone to bed. Rose is still working on the ribbons.”

“Thank you.” Eliza accepted the cup, and he settled into the chair across from her desk instead of leaving.

“You’ve done an extraordinary job with all this,” he said. “The accounts have never looked better. And now you’re planning what might be the biggest event Whisper Creek has seen in years.”

“It’s been enjoyable, actually. I like organizing things.”

“I’ve noticed.” He smiled, and the smile changed his whole face. “You’ve brought order to more than just the ledgers, Eliza. The whole house runs more smoothly since you and Rose arrived.”

“Mrs. Beale deserves the credit—”

“She’s seventy years old, and she was killing herself before you came.” He was quiet for a moment. “I should have hired help for her years ago. But after Adelaide died, I withdrew from people. From everything. It seemed easier.”

Eliza set down her pen. “Mrs. Beale said there haven’t been gatherings here in a long time.”

“The last one was Adelaide’s wedding.” His eyes were far away. “Seven years ago.”

“I’m sorry. It must be hard, carrying those memories.”

“It was. It is.” He met her eyes. “But sometimes new memories can help heal old ones.”

There was something in his voice that made her heart beat faster, and she looked down at the guest list, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “Mr. Maddox—”

“Garrett,” he interrupted, gently. “After all these months, I think you could call me Garrett.”

“Garrett,” she repeated, and the name felt strange on her tongue, and good. “I… we appreciate everything you’ve done for us. Rose and I were in a desperate situation, and you gave us safety. Comfort. Purpose. I don’t know how we can ever repay—”

“You don’t need to repay anything, Eliza.” He leaned forward, earnest. “Having you here — seeing how you’ve brightened this place — that’s payment enough.”

The use of her given name, in his deep voice, sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the evening cold. They looked at each other across the desk, and something unspoken passed between them, huge and quiet as a rising tide.

Garrett cleared his throat and stood. “It’s late. You should rest. The social committee meets tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll make myself scarce.” He paused at the door. “Good night, Eliza.”

“Good night, Garrett.”

The social itself was glorious. The barn swept and ribboned, the tables spread beneath the oaks, the children racing across the lawn. Rose had outdone herself; the whole place looked like something out of a dream, and half the county came. Mrs. Farrow was effusive. The reverend gave a speech thanking Garrett and praising the Whitfield sisters for bringing new life to the ranch, and there was applause, and Eliza felt Garrett’s hand lightly touch the small of her back in a gesture of support.

But Eliza barely remembered any of it.

She remembered the porch, when the last wagon had gone and the stars came out and the coyotes began to sing. She remembered Rose and Mrs. Beale disappearing inside with the dishware, and the silence that settled between her and Garrett, sweet with the smell of wild grass.

“I meant what I said,” he told her. “You’ve changed things here, Eliza. You’ve changed me.”

“I’m glad. This place has changed us, too. It gave us a home when we had none.”

He turned to face her, and his face was serious. “I want it to be your home. Not just a place where you work.” He stopped, and started again. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for weeks. I have no right to ask it—”

“What do you want, Garrett?”

“I don’t know that I have the right. You came here by circumstance, not by choice. You’re bound to me by a contract I purchased. How can I speak of feelings when there’s that between us?”

Eliza rose and moved to stand beside him at the edge of the porch. “Do you think I don’t understand the complexity of our situation? I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks.”

He looked at her, surprised. “You have?”

“Of course.” She took a breath. “But the heart doesn’t always follow legal documents, Garrett.”

“Eliza.” He said her name like a man remembering how to pray. “I’ve cared for you since that first day in town, though I tried not to. It seemed wrong, given how we met. But these months, working beside you, seeing your strength and your kindness—” He took her hand. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Eliza Whitfield.”

The words hung in the air between them, enormous and fragile, freighted with everything they were and everything they might become.

And Eliza, with her heart pounding against her ribs, opened her mouth to answer—