A Groom for Celia by Cat Cahill

Author:Cat Cahill [Cahill, Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Celia eyed Jack as he looked off into the distance. His mind seemed to have instantly gone back to New York when she posed the question, and she wished she could take it back. Perhaps she’d been right when she told Faith about her fears that questions would drive Jack away.

Still . . . she did want to know the answer. And she supposed his reaction would tell her how much he was—or was not—like Ned.

As the seconds ticked by and the only sounds were the horses’ hooves crunching through the dead grass and birdsong from off in the distance, she prayed he was nothing like her first husband.

“I wanted something new,” he said carefully.

Celia clamped her mouth shut, hoping he would go on. She knew that already—he’d put it in his letter.

“I told you I was a man of business in New York,” he continued, his eyes on Chimney Rock far off in the distance. “I . . . dabbled in various investments. A meatpacking plant. A company that would manufacture medical implements. An ice factory.”

“Ice factory?” Celia raised her eyebrows at that one. “How . . .?”

Jack shrugged. “I had grand ideas. I always have. But unfortunately, none of them were particularly feasible. I was either too late, or too imaginative, or found deals that were too good to be true. None of my plans ever actually happened.” He frowned at that, and Celia’s heart went out to him. It was clear he enjoyed thinking up new ideas.

“It must have been hard not to see any of your plans come to fruition,” she said, running a hand over Tiny’s shoulder. The mare was a good horse, easy to ride and calm. She’d do well in the fields come spring.

“It was.” Jack looked at her now, and a measure of understanding passed between them. “Thank you. Not many people understand that.”

“I do.” Celia felt as if she breathed the words out. She’d had so many wonderful plans for her life when she’d married Ned and they’d left for Nebraska. She got her farm and her horses and chickens . . . but not the family of her own that she’d craved. No caring husband and no children.

“I know,” he said. His hand reached for hers again, and Celia’s heart soared. His grip was reassuring, and she thought that maybe—just maybe—her dreams weren’t entirely dead at all.

“So what made you want to leave that behind and come here? You can hardly build a factory in Last Chance.”

His fingers intertwined with hers, and Celia’s heart thumped harder. “I disagree. Last Chance is rife with opportunity. I needed to go somewhere I could make a difference. Somewhere I could be forward thinking and not worry about ten other men beating me to the idea. Somewhere I could begin to understand what is feasible and what is not. Somewhere honest. I didn’t expect to find myself on a farm, but here I am.”

She smiled at him, but a new worry bloomed. What

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