CHAPTER FOUR

Letters

Still Tuesday, November 13, 1877

Victoria's hand trembled as she held JR's letter. She waited until Heath and Margaret left and closed the door after them, then studied JR's elegant handwriting. The man always seemed to surprise her.

Tom, forgive me. She closed her eyes. Why was her heart pounding like a teenager in love? Why was she flushed? And what was she hoping this letter would say?

She shook her head and took a sip of tea. Get it together, Victoria! She carefully opened the letter and took out the pages of neat, fluid writing.

My Dearest Tori ~

Victoria paused, a small smile appearing despite her efforts to withhold it. No one had ever called her Tori. Tom had sometimes called her Vic, and her sister called her Vicky, but no one called her Tori—except JR.

She turned back to the text.

Where do I begin? I suppose with the niceties. Thank you for your hospitality during Heath and Margaret's wedding week and during my convalescence. Your home is one filled with love and warmth, and your caring ways make everyone feel welcomed.

Thank you also for your hand in guiding Heath in becoming the fine young man he is. Your grace in accepting him as your own son is admirable—and reflects well on the fine woman you are. I am thrilled I can now also call him my son. I could not ask for a better man to marry my daughter.

And now I come to the hard part.

Victoria's heart pounded. She swallowed hard.

How do I explain my many conflicting emotions during the kidnapping? It was one of the most horrendous experiences I've ever endured—as I'm sure it was for each member of your family as well. I know that if it were not for the intelligent and immediate actions by your sons, things could have turned out quite differently. You must be so very proud of your boys. They are everything anyone could want in a son—brave, loyal, intelligent, loving. This says so much to your raising of them. I know, I know, you had help, but you were their lone parent during many of their formative years. All I can say is that it's easy to see they inherited their bravery and toughness and caring from their mother.

While the kidnapping was quite a traumatic event, it did serve to open my eyes—as I believe you are likely aware. I've already explained to you that my exposure to women has been greatly limited. Additionally, my socializing has been restricted to the group of local ranchers who meet to play poker on Friday nights, and, I must admit, they've done nothing to cause my limited view of women to expand. In fact, they enforced my beliefs that women were delicate and whiny and difficult and, well, not nearly as smart or as brave or as capable as men.

While at my house before the wedding, your wonderful sons, who already knew women were intelligent and brave and capable—they had lived with you and therefore had none of the experiences and misinformation I'd had—took me to task and insisted on working with Margaret and teaching her the things she needed to learn in order to protect herself. If they hadn't seen the need to teach Margaret how to shoot and insist she arm herself—well, that entire situation would've had a much worse ending. And then—the bravery Margaret showed at the barn. I would never have imagined that my protected little girl could shoot two men and save her own life as well as Heath's. And I owe her bravery and knowledge to your sons. They were the ones who believed in her. Not me. They were the ones who encouraged her and told her she could do it—and who instructed her on how to do it. They gave her what her own daddy should've given her. And, for that, I will be eternally grateful.

And then there was you. Knowing how to handle the situation we found ourselves in when we set off to find our children. You were smarter than I—you stayed in the dark, and you moved so silently the kidnappers didn't know you were there. And then you took the only chance you had and made a perfect shot. I don't think I could've held my hands as steady as you did. Thank you, again, my dearest Tori, for saving my life—and for opening my eyes.

And, finally, my dearest Tori, thank you for your kindness to me. For spending time with me, for being the beautiful, charming, wonderful lady you are. I've never met anyone like you. You've made this old (but not too old) man realize how stupid he's been and you've given me new hope in life. It is my greatest wish that you again will bestow upon me the gift of your time and attention. I have cherished every moment we spent together, and I hope we can add more joyous memories to those I savor.

Yours Fondly,

JR

Victoria continued to study the words, the nuances of their meaning. She was pretty good at deciphering meaning in words both spoken and written. Three times, he called her "my dearest Tori," which suggested he saw her as a bit more than a friend. But then he also left the door open—prompting her to make the next move. She'd need to think before she answered.

Confusing emotions flooded her. She was flattered—it had been such a long time since a man had shown romantic interest in her. She felt guilty—yes, Tom had been gone for over seven years, but she had vowed to love him until—

Victoria leaned back. She had no doubt she would love Tom forever. But she had only vowed to love, honor, and obey him until death did they part. So, she was off the hook.

But did she really want another man? She valued her independence.

How many nights had she crawled into her too-large bed, thinking of how lonely she was? Not that her family didn't give her constant company, but she was not so old that she didn't crave sharing her bed with a man. Crave the kisses and caresses such a man could provide. And JR was an extremely handsome man. Just looking at him took her breath away.

Victoria sighed. She needed to get her mind back on other things. Like what she was going to say when she wrote back to JR.

Her head ached. How did she know if they were even compatible? Yes, they'd spent a couple of weeks in close quarters, but would his "realization" that women had brains and guts last? Or, once they were wed, would he forget?

She almost laughed aloud. Oh, Victoria. All he did was write a letter. Nothing was said about marriage or forever or even love. You're jumping far ahead of yourself. All you have to do is return a letter—not say "I do."

She carefully folded his letter and returned it to its envelope, then took another sip of tea and a bit of soup. She'd need to remember to thank Sam and Jeannie for their thoughtfulness.

Then Victoria stood and went to the window. She looked out at the first stars of night, then opened the window, allowing the November breeze to cool the room—and her.

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Jarrod woke coughing. It was dark out, but someone had left a light burning low in his room. He sat up and looked around. There was a tray of tea and soup on his dresser, but he figured it had long since cooled—not that he was hungry anyway. He turned up the light a bit—and noticed the mail by his side. He looked through it quickly. Most of it was ranch mail. Then there was a letter from JR and one from Caroline and Charlie.

He opened the letter from JR, which was just a thank you note for his help in teaching Margaret survival skills and believing in her, and for his hospitality. He tossed the letter aside.

He picked up the one from Caroline and Charlie and toyed with it. With a pang, he realized he'd never answered the first letter he'd received from Caroline—and Caroline alone. In fact, he'd not even read it. It was still on his desk, still sealed. He could guess what it contained, and he wasn't ready to deal with it.

He had very much been attracted to Caroline. He'd even played with the idea that she was "the one." Yes, she was eleven years younger than he, but her maturity and calmness had spoken to his soul. He had come home from work early one day to go for a ride with her and ask her if he could court her. But when he'd arrived home, Caroline had been out for a ride with Eugene. And, even though Eugene assured him he wasn't interested in Caroline as anything other than a friend, Jarrod had realized it wasn't fair of him to cheat Caroline out of the opportunity to court men closer to her own age.

Jarrod put on a robe, went downstairs, and fixed himself a strong hot toddy. He also heated just a bit of soup and took both upstairs with him.

Jarrod sipped the soup first, then the hot toddy. He glanced again at the letter from Caroline. Nick was married, and now so was Heath. There was nothing Jarrod wanted more than to marry and have children of his own. But he was no longer young. He'd spent his spouse-finding years first in the war and then in university. By the time he'd been welcomed into the California Bar, he was so busy building up his reputation that he hadn't had time to chase after women.

And now he'd been left behind.

Caroline again popped into his mind. He was too old for a young woman. Much too old for the sweet young Caroline. She deserved better.

So, he would do what he always did—put aside his feelings for the common good.

Exhaustion dripped over Jarrod, and he returned to his bed. But sleep didn't come.

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