Page 38 of A Secret Heart
Chapter11
Rebekah missed Ed. It’d been two days since she’d seen him.
If only he’d been along for the ride today.
The thought smacked into Rebekah’s chest as quickly as the sweet-smelling honeysuckle vine at the end of the lane had smacked across her boot. Her ride to the home of the final candidate interview hadn’t been the same without Ed teasing her for searching out clues or chiding her for trying to go alone. And she’d all but proposed to Isaac in her letter of apology.
What if Isaac had been there to promise Uncle Vess he’d look after her? What would these last few weeks have been like? No image appeared, no daydream. The grin tugging at her lips faltered. She didn’t know if Isaac would have teased her or argued with her or if his eyes would have sparkled at her. She didn’t really know Isaac McGraw at all. She knew Ed.
But she had no right to expect Ed to want to come with her today after what she’d done.
Earlier this week, Mr. Sullivan had been distant while they’d worked to put together the next issue. He was clearly still unhappy with her. So she’d come to get another interview in the hope that he’d see her determination and forgive her. Going it alone was the only way to get the story. Which left her riding Mabel up to the house of candidate number three. At least the 160-acre homestead was just off the main road between her home and Calvin.
A ranch hand, the one Mrs. Jones had introduced as Jimmy the last time she’d been here, sat on the porch with a rifle across his knee. He came to attention. “Who’s there?”
“Rebekah Edwards.” She lifted her arm to wave.
Jimmy offered a greeting as he lowered his rifle to rest beside the chair he occupied. Another man she didn’t recognize leaned against the side of the house, tipping his hat at her before turning to wander to the back. She didn’t recall them always being this vigilant at the Joneses’ ranch.
Rebekah dismounted as the familiar figure of Margaret Jones stepped out the front door. The woman stood wiping her hands on her apron as Rebekah’s footsteps echoed across the wooden boards of the porch.
Margaret worked to smooth her hair and dress, which looked as if she’d slept in it. Lines around her mouth made her look haggard. “Oh, Miss Edwards, I forgot you were coming today.”
“What’s going on?” Rebekah let her eyes roam to where Jimmy waited before landing back on Mrs. Jones.
Mrs. Jones’s face paled a little. “The doctor was here only an hour ago.”
Inside the house, it was quiet with the curtains drawn. Bandages were laid out on the table in a pile. A hound dog greeted her with a whine.
A clanging noise sounded outside by the barn. Margaret jumped, hand pressed to her heart. Rebekah’s nerves began to jangle.
“Follow me.” Margaret took her down a short hall to what appeared to be the main bedroom of the house. Frank Jones lay in bed, bandages wrapped around his forehead. Bruises swelled on his face and arms. “Rebekah Edwards is here.”
Rebekah stilled in the doorway, her heart pounding. Who would do this to Frank? And why?
Frank pushed himself up in bed, wincing as he did. His wife bent over him, fussing as she worked to help him, only to have him brush her off.
Rebekah moved closer to the bed, her unease growing. “Is there anything I can do to help? I could bring over a meal.”
Bruises ran up Frank’s neck and over one side of his face. Watching him wince with each movement told her there were more injuries she couldn’t see.
“Maybe it would be best if I come back another day.” She took a step backward.
Margaret cast a quick glance between Frank and Rebekah. “Yes, this isn’t a good time.”
Frank shook his head. He lifted his hand. “No. Stay.”
Rebekah lowered herself into the wooden chair beside the bed, probably pulled in from the dining table. “What happened?”
Frank cleared his throat. “I was on the road yesterday evening.”
He coughed. Margaret reached a glass of water over to him. He took a quick sip, then waved the glass away.
Margaret nodded to her notebook. “Do you want to write this down?”
Rebekah chided herself, flipping it open. Must be her unease over the whole situation.
“He was jumped. On the road back from town when it happened.” Margaret’s brows furrowed tight as she moved closer to the bed to fluff the pillow his bruised arm rested on. She leaned closer to him. “All of a sudden a man with a bandanna—wasn’t it a bandanna?—came upon him with a gun.”
