by Karen Kirst
“That everything?” he asked.
“That’s everything,” she replied from the doorway. “I’ll close up and be right out.”
“Best be quick.”
“I will.”
He didn’t need to check his pocket watch to know they didn’t have much daylight left.
The fabric roses Mrs. Carlyle had hastily pinned to his lapel sagged, and he stuffed the decoration in his pocket. Guilt gnawed at his gut. He hadn’t put up much of a fight against marrying Heather considering her past relationship with his brother, and he didn’t have as many regrets as he probably ought to.
His anger sparked, the heat directed solely at his brother. If Dillon had returned for their pa’s funeral instead of trying to manage the entire Western frontier with his own two hands, he’d have been here for this fiasco. There was a pretty strong possibility the Blackwell name had been attached to Gracie as a matter of convenience rather than design. Any Blackwell would do, and Heather had gotten her second choice in husbands, no matter how much she denied her feelings for Dillon.
He’d never know what might have happened if he hadn’t interfered, and the unknown haunted him. A part of him feared he was living another man’s future. Heather hadn’t chosen him, she’d been stuck with him.
Heather appeared a moment later with Gracie perched on her hip. After securing the door, she made her way to the wagon. “I’m going to miss this place.”
Sterling couldn’t imagine why. The old one-room schoolhouse sat at the edge of town, a relic of Valentine’s history. Though the population had surged during the gold rush, the town had never needed more than one school until a few years before. And then once the boom had busted, the town floundered. His pa had formed a town council, and they’d enticed a flour mill onto the banks of the river. A bakery had followed, along with a café and a second dry goods store. Families had soon filled the town. Despite the loss of gold, the population had surged back to over a thousand.
The wood buildings along Main Street had been replaced with brick, and a gazebo had been erected in the town square. The old schoolhouse had remained, catering mostly to the farm children whose families preferred the old way of doing things. Heather’s lodgings had consisted of a single room addition with a potbellied stove for warmth and cooking.
She anchored her hat with one hand and tipped back her head, gazing somewhat wistfully at the bell housing. “Mrs. Lane has promised to finish out the school year. The students probably won’t even remember me come next fall.”
“Is there anyone we should notify about your move?” he asked. “Besides the postmaster.”
“No. No one.”
A jolt of realization kicked him in the gut. The children and that one-room addition were everything she had in the world, and she was leaving it all behind for Gracie. She had no family in town, no family anywhere as far as he knew. She was entirely alone in the world.
The idea was sobering. He’d always had family around in one form or another. Even without his parents, he’d had Dillon. His ma had family back East, though she’d rarely gone back to visit.
“Mrs. Lane will do right by the students until another teacher is hired,” he said. “I didn’t think she’d ever retire in the first place. The town council was surprised when you applied. It’s not as easy luring people out West like it was in the old days.”
Her smile was tinged with sorrow. “You’re too young to remember the old days.”
“Otto talks my ear off. I feel like I lived through the war between the states twice.” Her soft laughter chased away the sadness and warmed his heart. “We’d best go.”
“I’m sure your men are impatient. They’ve been trapped in town all day.”
“They aren’t complaining.” A lengthy visit to town without the promise of chores waiting was a rare treat.
Grace tugged on Heather’s bonnet. “Ga!”
“Even Grace is impatient,” Sterling said.
“We’ve gotten to know each other quite well over the past week, haven’t we, darling?”
Grace wrapped her arms around Heather’s neck and hugged her.
Their obvious affection for each other left him feeling like an unwanted interloper. The two had grown remarkably attached in a short period of time. The difference a few days had made was astonishing. Heather wasn’t nearly as nervous and skittish with the child as she’d been that first day in the church.
Though Sterling kept his own counsel, Grace’s anonymous past sat heavy on his soul, and the mystery surrounding her arrival left him uneasy. He’d never been comfortable with the unknown. Mysteries had a way of unraveling at the most inopportune moments. There was always a chance someone might come for the child. And while whoever had abandoned Grace had plenty of explaining to do, Sterling didn’t know who the law would side with if that person returned.
One thing was certain. There was no way Heather was giving up the child without a fight. In the past week, she’d embraced Grace with her whole heart, and the depth of that attachment was evident.
He climbed into the wagon and lifted Gracie up, then extended his arm. His new wife accepted his assistance, clasping his hand with her gloved fingers and releasing it almost immediately. He adjusted the blanket over the two of them and gathered the reins.
Her gaze lingered on the schoolhouse. Anxious to be on the road before dark, he paused only a moment before flicking the reins against the horse’s backs.
The sun was low on the horizon by the time they gathered the men, and Sterling kept the introductions brief in deference to the gathering dusk.
“This here is Joe, Woodley, Ben and Price. You know Otto. They live in a bunkhouse on the property. They cook for and keep to themselves.”
The men offered their congratulations and took their places in the back of the wagon. There was no room for Otto with Heather’s belonging taking up space, and the wagon tipped as he took his seat up front.
Heather scooted closer to Sterling. She attempted to leave a space between them, but the uneven roads and rusty springs soon had them bumping together. They were wedged side by side from shoulder to hip. The warmth of their bodies mingled, chasing away the worst of the chill.
Heather had gathered Gracie onto her lap. She kissed the child’s temple and smoothed the wild red curls from her face. Seeing the two of them together, a wall of emotion threatened Sterling’s composure. He was completely unprepared for the task ahead. He felt inadequate.
He’d lived a solitary life these past few years. He didn’t mind socializing, and he had plenty of acquaintances, yet he’d never spent a significant amount of time with one woman. He’d never had to progress past perfunctory conversation. Women sometimes flirted with him, but he’d never been comfortable with the attention. He’d flash a smile and make a joke, and they didn’t take him too seriously after that. He sure wasn’t ready for the responsibility of a wife and child in addition to his other difficulties.
Such as continuing to deal with the shock of losing his pa. It had dredged up many old feelings, and he was loath to sort through them just yet. He’d returned home and found a place he didn’t remember. In only two years, the ranch had become unrecognizable. The cattle herd had dwindled, the ranch hands were gone and the house was hollow and empty. Even with all the changes, returning to his deserted childhood home had exacerbated old hurts he’d long ago buried.
His ma’s death had wounded him more than he’d realized. She’d been the one bright constant in his life. She’d doted on him, a fact he hadn’t appreciated until she was gone. His pa wasn’t interested in a weak momma’s boy, and Sterling had become a man when they’d tossed the first shovel of dirt over her casket. He’d erected a sturdy barricade around his heart after that and locked the pain inside.
Otto glanced over Heather’s head and gave Sterling a wink. “Fine day for a new beginnin
g.”
“Indeed.”
Sterling glanced away, turning his attention toward the horizon. A house needed a woman’s touch. Together with Gracie, they’d breathe life into the silent, empty rooms. The idea of tiny feet running through his childhood home once more sent an ache of longing through his chest. He might not be ready for the future he’d just signed on for, but there were benefits to be had.
His grip tightened on the reins, and the stiff leather dug into his gloved hands. He wasn’t a sentimental man. He didn’t know why his thoughts had drifted in that direction. A house was a house, no matter who lived inside.
He glanced at Heather’s profile. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
He noticed with satisfaction that she wasn’t trying to scoot away anymore.
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the ranch. Grace was sound asleep, her head firmly nestled against Heather’s chin. She sat rigid, her head jerking upright when she lapsed into a doze.
As proof of their exhaustion, the usually rowdy men were subdued and quiet. They emptied the wagon in short order and set about the evening chores. Sterling took the child from Heather’s arms. Otto assisted her before circling to the front of the wagon and grasping the horses’ halters.
Heather stumbled a bit, and Sterling steadied her with his free hand. “You’ve had a long day.”
Pressing her fingers against her lips, she stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
Inside the door he lit the wick on a lantern set on the side table and motioned her up the stairs. “I have a lady from town who comes around once a month to do the cleaning. She came last week, which means the bedding has been aired. When ma was alive, we had a cook who did the housekeeping duties, but there hasn’t been any need since she passed away.”
Pride kept him from mentioning there’d been no money to hire another housekeeper once he’d moved back home. If Heather needed more help, he’d broach the subject later. Come next fall, he’d have the finances back in order.
“Gracie and I will look after ourselves,” Heather replied sleepily.
Once upstairs, they situated Gracie first, pushing the bed against the wall and placing a dresser against the other side to keep her from falling out.
“I think there’s a cradle in the storage loft in the barn,” Sterling said. “I’ll check tomorrow.”
They passed through the washroom, and Heather did a double take. “I forgot you have running water.”
“My ma insisted. She was from back East, and she’d always had a washroom. The house isn’t very big, but it’s got plenty of nice features.”
“I’ve never had running water before. I’ll miss a lot of things about the schoolhouse, but that isn’t one of them.
Her wistful longing for the schoolhouse had his chest constricting. He’d taken for granted the comforts he’d had all his life. There were times he’d even been resentful. A man wanted to build something of his own. He was tired of being seen as an extension of his pa. He wanted men to respect him for his own abilities, not for the land he’d inherited. And the land was about the only thing he had left.
If folks in town had noticed his pa scaling back on the outfit, they assumed he was slowing with age and not because of financial necessity. If Sterling rebuilt the ranch to its former glory, he’d prove to himself that he was worthy of what his pa had started.
But Gracie and Heather were a hitch in his plans. And Dillon’s continued absence exacerbated the problem. In the next few months he’d need every penny and every minute of the day to turn the failing ranch around.
His knees had nearly buckled when Otto had declared their intent to marry in church. Not to mention he’d been plum bushwhacked by Heather’s rejection of Dillon.
What hadn’t been in question was Heather’s fierce protectiveness of Grace.
Unless she married someone quick, she risked losing the child. More than anything else, he’d agreed to the hasty marriage to keep her together with the babe. At least for the time being. The future wasn’t written yet.
“My room is across the way.” He jerked his thumb in the general direction. “I’ll fetch your trunk and let you get some rest.”
Despite the hardships that would certainly come with this arrangement, when he’d stood before the reverend, he’d felt no regret. He’d experienced a moment of doubt and a distinct twinge of fright at his ability to care for his instant family, but he definitely hadn’t felt regret. He’d sabotaged Heather’s chance at happiness all those years before, and now he had a chance to atone. She needed his name to provide a good life for Gracie, and that’s what he’d given her.
He hoisted her worn trunk onto his shoulder and climbed the stairs. He discovered Heather perched on the tall tester bed unlacing her boots. She startled upright, her boot dangling from her toe, her feet not quite reaching the floor. She was tiny and alone and achingly vulnerable.
Warmth flooded through his chest. Her fiery hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders, and his fingers itched to know if the strands were as soft as they looked. But he held himself in check. If he’d experienced a twinge of fright at thoughts of the future, she must have experienced moments of doubt and panic. She was in a far more helpless position. To put her at ease, he’d assigned her and Gracie rooms on the other side of the house from his. They needed time to settle in and acquaint themselves with their new surroundings.
Heather’s eyelids drooped and she muttered a soft thank-you.
Sterling paused in the doorway. Something was bothering him, and the sooner he brought it out into the open, the better. There was no use avoiding the obvious.
“Gracie’s family may still come for her. You know that, right?”
“No.” She stifled another yawn. “No one will come for her.”
Her complete refusal to even contemplate the idea worried him more than anything else that had happened in the past week. “Listen, Heather. You and I got picked up by a tornado and put down in this place. And that’s the thing about tornadoes—they’re unpredictable. You have to accept that another storm might be on the way, and neither of us can predict what will happen then.”
“No,” she stubbornly insisted. “If they haven’t come for her yet, they aren’t going to.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
Losing Gracie, even after such a short time, would break her heart. The child was the only thing tying the three of them together.
He hadn’t immediately understood what Heather had meant in church—about how moments in life changed a person. The past few hours had given him perspective, though. His ma’s death had been one of those moments. Encouraging Dillon to enter the cavalry had been one. Setting out on his own two years ago had been yet another.
More than all of those things combined, his decision to say “I do” had changed the course of his life, and if Gracie was gone, Heather was sure to follow.
“Get some rest,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
There was always the chance Heather and Gracie were exactly what the ranch needed. He only had to persuade her in that direction.
If she regretted her choice when Dillon returned, he’d cross that bridge when the time came. Being her second choice was a lot easier to ignore with his brother gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Heather woke with a start, momentarily confused by her surroundings. From beyond the door, the floorboards squeaked, and a sudden rush of fear numbed her senses. She frantically searched her surroundings, and the memory of the previous day came rushing back. The footsteps paused on the landing, and she remained stock-still, not even daring to breathe.
In the next instant she heard the tromp of footfalls going down the stairs. The front door slammed, rattling the windowpanes, and she blew out her pent
-up breath. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and took in her bare feet and wrinkled dress. She’d been too exhausted to change last night. She only dimly recalled removing her shoes and stockings and crawling beneath the covers.
She checked on Gracie first and found the child sound asleep. Gracie had wedged her small body into the space between the edge of the bed and the wall. Heather rolled her toward the middle and tucked the blanket neatly around her sides. Gracie’s tiny lips moved in her sleep; her eyes drifted open and she mewled a sound, then rolled to her side.
The sleepy child and Sterling’s absence left Heather time for explorations. She’d only seen the Blackwell house from the outside. She and Dillon had taken a buggy ride on the road near the ranch one spring afternoon, and he’d pointed out the roofline visible above the hillcrest.
Memories from her brief flirtation came rushing back. Though Dillon and Sterling were brothers, they were vastly different in temperament. Dillon had been quiet, almost brooding. He’d kept himself rigid and always in check, and he rarely laughed or smiled. In her naïveté, she’d mistaken his silence for interest. Looking back, she realized she’d always carried the conversation, and her face burned. Her chatter must have annoyed him to no end.
At her aunt and uncle’s, no one had ever asked her how she was doing or feeling. What she’d experienced with Dillon was a reflection of her first taste of freedom and of gentlemanly courtesy. Back then, she was a captive only recently freed from a cage, spreading her wings and embracing new experiences. She’d never expected, all these years later, to be standing in the Blackwell house as his brother’s bride. In truth, she’d never expected to see the inside of the Blackwell house at all.
She shook off the past and studied her new surroundings. The Blackwell family home was legendary around Valentine. Though not overly large by gold rush standards, the house featured every expensive plumbing detail available. According to town lore, Mr. Blackwell’s wife had come from wealth. Her family fortune had been amassed through plumbing fixtures, and she’d insisted on an indoor bathtub, running water and eventually a water closet. Folks were still suspicious of a backhouse in the bathroom, and near as Heather could tell, the Blackwells owned the only water closet in Montana.
