Chapter Twelve

Zachary stood in the barn and watched the fat droplets of rain dripping from the door frame and plopping loudly into the puddle formed by the drops that had come before. He took a deep breath of smoke scented air and sighed. This rain was set in to stay for the day at least. The sky was nothing but an endless expanse of dull gray. In the past, days like this would have served to deepen his melancholy and blacken his mood. But not today. Today, Zachary was feeling the closest thing to peace in his soul that he had felt in five long years.

That house was gone. That damn black front door would never taunt him again. As he had stood there yesterday and watched those flames devour those boards and beams, as he had watched that dark smoke swirl away into the blue sky—Zachary had imagined the souls of his family had been riding on it. The wispy clouds of ash and soot had given them freedom—had liberated them from the prison their murderers had placed them in.

Zachary may not have avenged their deaths but he no longer felt such a sting from that knowledge—he knew their souls were finally at peace.

Glancing back toward the stall he was using as his temporary home, Zachary thought of the photograph that lay there. When Samantha had held that out to him yesterday and his eyes had seen his family for the first time since the day he'd found them bloody and mutilated—Zachary had damn near broken down and sobbed.

Time had played such evil tricks on his brain and robbed him of the details of their faces. Even in his good memories, their features had begun to blur. The only images of them he had been able to see plainly were soaked in blood. To see their faces so clearly and so free of all evidence of that day... There was nothing he could ever give or do for Samantha that could repay what she had given him when she had handed him that photograph.

Samantha.....

She made him feel.... Hopeful. Hopeful that he had a future that wasn't limited to guilt, blood, and vengeance. A future that could include happiness, a real home, a family.... And love? Zachary had never given much thought to falling in love. He had been too young before his vengeance mission to have ever thought of settling down—all he'd wanted to do was sow wild oats and run free. And after his family had been murdered romance had been the farthest thing from his mind.

But now....

He was back in Hackney. He was fixing up the ranch. He was going to be settling down and staying put. This ranch had been built to be a place for happiness, love, and family. Zachary had sworn for a long while that it could never be that again. But maybe...

Hoofbeats drew Zachary from his thoughts. His pulse quickened but then his heart dropped when he realized it was only Timothy heading his way—Samantha wasn't with him. Of course she wasn't. It was raining and Zachary wouldn't want her out in this weather but, he sure would love to see her.

Then he looked toward the ash pile that had once been a farmhouse. Damn. There was no longer a house for her to be turning into a home and therefore Samantha's reason for coming to the ranch was gone. Zachary would have to do something about that.

Zachary stepped out of the way as Timothy rode his horse directly into the barn. Puddles formed in the dirt beneath the mare, and then beneath Timothy as he hopped off shook himself roughly. "Damn, it's wet."

"That's what happens when it rains." Zachary crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you here?"

Timothy frowned. "To work."

"Can't get much word done in this weather."

"Why not?" Timothy slapped him on the back. "You won't melt."

Zachary had spent a lot of years spending his time out in all types of weather. He wasn't real eager to spend today out in the rain. Unless he could think of some excuse to go into town and see Samantha.

None came.

Timothy ran his arm over his dripping face. "We could work fixing hinges and stall doors," he offered. "Eventually you'll have more than two horses taking up space in here. That is, if you still plan on staying around."

"Of course I'm staying around," Zachary stated as he made his way to a spare stall to get a sack that contained hinges and nails.

"Just for the ranch or for another reason that has red hair, freckles, and big green eyes?"

Zachary thought about punching that shit-eating grin right off the other mans' face. "The ranch."

Laughter filled the barn as Timothy led his horse to an empty stall. "Whatever you say, Zach. You wanna know what I think?"

Zachary grabbed the hammer from the wooden toolbox by the door. "Nope."

Timothy clearly didn't care and had only been asking to hear himself speak because he chose to reply anyway. "I think Samantha is a good woman and I think she'll be good for you."

Zachary merely grunted. "We ain't got time to sit and talk about our goddamn feelings all day. We got work to do."

Timothy simply sighed and the two got to work. Zachary's mind was elsewhere. He knew that Samantha was a good woman. He also knew that she would be good for him. The question was, would he be any good for her?

***

Shortly after midday the men decided to take a break to fill their stomachs. The rain was still falling steadily against the tin above their heads.

"I sure am glad we got that roof fixed or else we'd be sitting in a puddle," Timothy stated as he flopped himself down on a stack of hay bales and began munching on some biscuits he'd brought from town.

Zachary dug around in a burlap sack and pulled out some jerked beef. He sure was getting tired of living off warmed up beans, jerked beef, and biscuits. He would like to have a real cooked meal—would Samantha want to join him for supper in town?

"I know we still have a lot of things to repair around here. Lots of buildings that need tended to but.... What about a house? Or do you plan on living in the barn forever?"

"I've slept in worse places," Zachary replied, his gaze focused on water dripping steady in the puddle at the door. Rain thundered loudly on the tin roof above them and pinged against a broken metal plow outside the barn door.

"Such a tough man," Timothy mocked with a chuckle which caused a smile to tug at Zachary's lips. "I wonder just how rough of places Samantha has slept in. I'm sure she'd prefer a house, a bedroom, and a real bed. Then again, maybe she won't mind a barn stall and a bedroll with a pillow of hay."

Zachary chose not to take the bait. He was not going to encourage the pain in the ass. "We can finish up all these hinges today at least and repair the stall doors. Tomorrow, if the weather's better, we can start fixing up some of the outside walls of this barn—weatherproof it good, finish it up, and move on to something else."

"We'll be lucky to have everything here fixed up and ready by winter," Timothy stated with a long sigh. "We still have another barn, the corrals, toolshed, smokehouse, fence lines...."

Zachary pushed himself away from the stall door he'd been leaning against. "I get it," he snapped, cutting his friend off. "We have a lot of work."

"Maybe Samantha knows how to swing a hammer?"

Zachary frowned and turned his gaze to Timothy. "What are you talking about?"

Timothy took a big bite of biscuit and crumbs fell down his chest. "Just trying to give you an excuse to invite her back."

Zachary grabbed his canteen and yanked the lid off more roughly than necessary. "Do you know how to leave something alone?" he demanded before taking a long drink of water.

A grin split Timothy's face. "Nope."

Zachary grabbed himself a biscuit and went to the door, staring hard where the farmhouse had once stood. Another home. It would have to be done. But what kind of house would he have put there? He honestly didn't have an idea—and truthfully didn't care. What kind of house would Samantha like?

Growling under his breath, Zachary tore a chunk of biscuit off with his teeth. He had to stop thinking about that woman so damn much.

For a few quiet moments, Zachary simply lost himself in thought. Then Timothy kicked at some hay as he came to stand beside him. "Why'd you burn it down, Zach?"

Zachary spared a quick glance at Timothy. The man's eyes were red-rimmed as he swallowed hard and his nostrils flared. Zachary quickly looked away. "I didn't want to look at it anymore."

"I understand, I reckon... I just hate it. I had some good memories in that place."

Zachary chose not to respond. What could he say? He had good memories of that place too—but the bad one had been more than he would have ever been able to move past.

"You realize you chased Samantha into that burning house without hesitation? You always said you'd never step foot back in there."

Zachary tensed at the memory. When he had seen that woman run into those flames his heart had nearly dropped into the dirt at his feet. Saving her had been all he'd been able to focus on—nothing else had mattered.

Timothy nudged him with his shoulder and let a strip of jerky hang off his lip. "Gonna try to convince me one more time that she isn't special?"

A/N: Is Zachary beginning to heal?  More Zachary and Samantha togetherness in the next chapter! I hope y'all are enjoying the story! I'm loving reading all your comments! Keep them coming.