by Karen Kirst
Holding a hand out to Constance, he helped her stand, the contact with her skin and the way she clung to him sending warm sensations ricocheting through him. “No cause for alarm. Those men are my friends. Suppose their impatience to meet you became too great.”
Loath to release her, he forced his fingers to slide away. She busied herself fluffing her skirts, flipping her hair behind each shoulder, checking her collar. The tension in her was palpable, and he wondered at it.
* * *
Grace was about to come face-to-face with the man responsible for her trip to Kansas, the man who’d made her escape from Frank Longstreet possible. Will Canfield had no inkling of the role he’d played in her life. He believed he was meeting the real Constance Miller.
Thankfully, her cousin had written only a single letter answering his advertisement. Constance hadn’t gone into specifics about her history. Instead, she’d focused on her skills, her likes and dislikes, and her hopes for the future.
As she observed the gentlemen greeting Noah with hearty handshakes and claps on the back, nervousness buzzed beneath her skin like an angry swarm of hornets. Beneath the fall of her hair, her nape was damp with sweat. She despised this subterfuge. Hated the lies. Her mother had been a devoted follower of Christ’s teachings, and she’d always stressed to Grace the importance of honesty.
How disappointed she’d be. Lord Jesus, I know asking You for help in this is wrong. But if Will Canfield was to figure out I’m not who I’m claiming to be, my chances of remaining in Cowboy Creek would disappear like a puff of smoke. I wouldn’t know where to go from here.
The West wasn’t exactly known for its safety and hospitality. Traveling to Kansas had been a risk, for sure, but at least she’d had a recommendation. An invitation of sorts from one of the town founders. The prospect of starting over in a new place and not knowing a single soul was too overwhelming to entertain.
“Constance Miller, I’d like you to meet Daniel Gardner and Will Canfield.”
She shook their hands in turn, praying they wouldn’t notice the clamminess of her palms. “How do you do?”
Both men were tall, dark-haired and wore authority like a second skin. The tintype image sprung to mind. Like Noah, these men had lost the exuberant innocence of youth, their wartime experiences having carved character into their countenances. But unlike their friend, Will and Daniel didn’t appear to have thrown up walls to keep people out. Both were married and heavily involved in town business.
The shorter, clean-shaven man, Daniel Gardner, was clad in rancher’s gear. Understandable, since he owned the stockyards. His chestnut hair begged a trim—several times in the past minutes he’d pushed the strands out of his piercing green eyes. Will looked more the part of a town official. His navy suit, crisp white shirt and boots shiny enough to use as a mirror were all of the finest quality. His hair was almost military short, his beard and goatee neatly trimmed, and his eyes were a coffee brown. They were gazing at her with an inquisitive intensity that had her on the verge of confessing.
He knows. Somehow, he’s guessed. Grace’s fingernails bit into her skin. He can’t know. You’ve said all of one single sentence to the man!
Turning her head, she intercepted Noah’s perusal, and she experienced dread on his behalf. For the first time, she considered how her deception might affect him. As the sheriff, his judgment could be called into question. He’d be the object of gossip and ridicule. His friendships with Will and Daniel might even suffer.
Her heart knocked against her rib cage. I don’t want to hurt or humiliate him, Lord.
Will palmed the ornate handle of his walking stick. “How did you fare during the train ride, Mrs. Miller?”
“Very well, thank you.”
He looked slightly puzzled. “You weren’t bothered by the close confines? You mentioned in your letter that you struggle with feelings of anxiety in those environs. I was concerned about the length of the trip.”
Grace’s mouth went dry. How could she have forgotten her cousin’s trouble with tight spaces and crowds? What else was in the letter that might raise suspicion, and had he shown it to Noah?
“There were some taxing moments, to be sure. I tried to focus on my daughters and what we stood to gain by coming here.”
Daniel broke off his study of the girls to address her. “How do you like Kansas so far? I hope Noah has been a proper host.”
Noah’s grunt garnered a smirk from Will.
“The prairie is breathtaking.”
“My wife, Leah, would like for you and the girls to call on her tomorrow afternoon, if it’s convenient for you,” Daniel said.
Will thumbed his derby farther up his forehead. “Tomasina will be there, as well. Our wives are thrilled to have another lady in town and very eager to meet you.”
“Thank you for the invitation. However, I’m not sure...”
Warm fingertips grazed her elbow. Noah’s touch, no matter how brief or impersonal, never failed to evoke a deep, breath-stealing yearning for more. Why must he be the one to have this effect on her?
“I can come home for lunch and take you into town afterward. A change of scenery might do you and the girls good.”
She managed a smile. “I’d like that.”
“Wonderful,” Daniel said. “I’ll let Leah know to expect you.”
Looking to Noah for direction, she gestured to the cabin. “Would you like for me to make coffee? There’s cinnamon butter cake to go with it.”
Will uttered a sound of approval, and Daniel’s smile widened. “Noah’s been bragging on your cooking abilities, Mrs. Miller.”
“Oh?” Flustered, she shot him a sideways glance.
His head bent, he appeared to be intrigued by something beneath his boot.
Grace excused herself to admonish the girls not to wander from the stream. The men’s presence made the cabin seem fuller than usual. Self-conscious, she busied herself with her tasks. Noah surprised her by helping gather the plates and utensils.
When they were seated around the table, Will was the first to break the silence. “Mrs. Miller, I’d like to express my apologies for what’s happened. Daniel and I had the best of intentions in bringing you here. As Noah has no doubt told you, we’re committed to helping you make a suitable match.”
Seated on her right, Noah stiffened.
Daniel set his fork down and, wiping the crumbs from his mouth, retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Unfolding it, he held it across to her.
“Will and I started on a list of potential husbands.”
Will sipped his coffee. “We will tell you a little about each candidate, and you can decide which men you’d like to meet.”
The tidy handwriting meant nothing to her. She cast a helpless glance at Noah, who hadn’t taken a single bite of the cake, he who savored sweet treats.
He extended an open palm. “Let me see it.” His scowl grew more severe as he read through the names. Grace squirmed with awkwardness. This struck her as wrong. “Surely there’s another way to go about this. It’s like I’m perusing a catalog advertisement.”
“I understand your discomfiture.” Across the table, Daniel’s eyes were soft with compassion. “When my wife, Leah, arrived on the first bride train, she was an expectant widow. We were prepared to help her in a similar manner.”
“Until you volunteered for the position.” Chuckling, Will socked him on the shoulder.
Daniel’s chuckle held no apology. Apparently, the union was a happy one.
“Mrs. Miller, most of the local bachelors are good, hardworking, God-fearing men,” Will informed her. “As in any town, there are a few bad seeds. We’re simply trying to steer you away from those types.”
Noah’s lingering stoical silence had his friends exchanging a look.
“Of course, the final
decision is entirely up to you.” Daniel held his hands up.
Will sampled another bite and, rubbing his middle, jabbed his fork at the list. “If any of those men get a taste of your cooking, Mrs. Miller, we’ll have a problem on our hands.”
Daniel polished off the remaining bites and settled against the chair back with a satisfied groan. “Noah, are you sure you want to let this one get away?”
Lowering the paper, he looked first at his friends and then at her.
Grace braced herself for one of those stinging retorts he seemed to store up for her.
“If I was in the market for a wife, then no, I wouldn’t let her go.”
She stifled a gasp. Grace felt as if she was drowning in the blue storm-tossed sea of his eyes and the starkness of a lost opportunity.
He seemed to collect himself and, tearing his gaze from hers, turned it on his untouched food, his blunt fingers lining up the utensils. “But that’s not the case. If you’ll give me a pencil, Will, we’ll get started on this list.”
Chapter Eleven
Cowboy Creek had a myriad of interesting sights to see—the dusty, chaotic stockyards, the elegant opera house, the Cattleman hotel and many fine houses marching along the side streets—but none of them could hold her attention like the man at her side.
Noah had parked the wagon near the railroad station so she and the twins could walk the span of Eden Street and have a chance to absorb the sights and sounds of their new home. Jane and Abigail walked ahead of them, arms linked, expressions reflecting their wonder. While Chicago had been grand and exciting, this prairie town had its own unique personality.
Strolling behind them with Noah, Grace tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. Every few steps her shoulder would bump into his arm, and she’d breathe another apology. He eventually ordered her to stop apologizing. He didn’t release her, however.
As he pointed out various shops and buildings, she reveled in the cadence of his Southern drawl. His voice was becoming familiar, like treasured music to her ear, lingering in her mind long after he stopped reading to her.
“Hey, pretty lady.” A pair of cowboys lounging in the shade of the boardwalk awning leered at her. “I’ve got money in my pocket to burn. What say I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Noah tucked her closer and aimed the full force of his ire at them. “The lady’s not interested.” At his glare, they pushed off the building and ambled in the opposite direction.
Grace didn’t mind his high-handedness. He’d explained the cattle drovers were an itinerant population, here for a short time before they returned to Texas or some other far-flung part of the nation. A majority of them weren’t interested in commitment or marriage. After months on the trail, they were eaten up with restlessness and the need to blow off steam.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Wolf following several yards behind. The cowboys gave the beast a wide berth.
“Morning, Sheriff. Any news on the Murdoch brothers?”
Grace faced ahead once more, in time to see Noah’s jaw clench. Beneath her hold, his arm muscles twitched.
“Nothing recent, Mr. Jamison.” He didn’t slow his pace. “I’ll keep the town updated on any progress I make.”
The grizzled stranger in the street frowned and looked as if he would waylay Noah, but they kept walking before he could.
She angled her face toward his. “You’ve mentioned these men before. What did they do?”
“Zeb and Xavier Murdoch, along with their gang, have caused a lot of problems here. One of their worst crimes was interrupting a church service and robbing the congregation. They not only took money, but wedding rings and other items of great sentimental value.”
“That’s terrible!” she exclaimed.
“They don’t care who they hurt. Right before you arrived, they robbed the bank, killing our former sheriff in the process.”
“And they asked you to take his place.” She hadn’t known the details before now. The danger he faced each day struck home and fear for his safety curled in her belly. “Why did you agree? Your passion is ranching. Working the land. Tending livestock.”
“As cofounder of this town, I have a responsibility to its residents. I owe it to them to provide a safe place to live. To bring lawbreakers to justice.”
“It’s difficult for you to balance this with your ranching chores, though.”
Yesterday, he’d introduced her to Timothy, a young man he’d hired to assist him with feeding and watering the animals, as well as other odd jobs.
Beneath his Stetson’s brim, his gaze was steadfast as he peered down at her. “I’ll make it work somehow.”
Of course he would try, sacrificing his own wants and needs for the sake of Cowboy Creek. The weight of his burdens was palpable each evening when he got home. He was mentally and physically exhausted. How long before his health suffered?
“Are you happy, Noah?”
His boot caught an uneven board, and he stumbled. She lost her grip as he edged away, his features shuttering. “I’ve learned to be satisfied with the state of my life.”
“Satisfied isn’t the same as happy,” she murmured. “I don’t think you should do something that gives you no pleasure simply because you feel misplaced duty. Surely there are other candidates who could fill your position.”
His response was cut off when a willowy, pretty young woman in head-to-toe coral pink emerged onto the boardwalk. “Hello, girls. How are you today?” Her heavily lashed gaze lifted to Noah, and her smile stretched from ear to ear. “Sheriff Burgess, good day to you.” Skirting the children, she came to stand before Grace, her gray eyes lively with high emotion. “You must be Mrs. Miller. I’m Hannah Taggart. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?”
“Of course. You’re the talk of the town. Now that everyone knows you’re not marrying the sheriff, they’re conjecturing who you’ll choose.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. She had no desire to be discussed by total strangers.
Noah stepped close and placed a hand against her spine. Heat flared from the point of contact. She found herself swaying closer, eager to take shelter against his side. Fortunately, she stopped the motion before he noticed.
“Hannah arrived on the first bride train,” he told Grace. “Her father is Reverend Taggart.” Nodding to the window glass with scrolling gold lettering, he said, “Your dress shop is set to open tomorrow, is that right?”
Her hands fluttered like a butterfly’s wings. “Yes, I’m nervous and excited at the same time. I can hardly believe my dream is about to become reality. Would you like to see it?”
“Would you, Constance?” Noah asked.
Every time he said that name, she had to remind herself to respond. “I’d like that. I’m sure Jane and Abigail would, as well.”
Hannah beamed. “Your children are darling, Mrs. Miller. I’m planning to offer children’s clothing in the future. I have a little girl, too. She’s inside with her father.”
They followed the exuberant proprietress inside the store. Custom white cabinetry lined the interior walls, the shelving awaiting fabrics and other products. Behind the counter, a ruggedly handsome man with wavy, jet-black hair was walking a fussy baby, gently bouncing her in his arms and murmuring soothing words. The fringe on his buffalo-hide vest swayed with the movement and, when he turned, the beadwork on the back became visible.
Hannah introduced him as James Johnson, her fiancé.
Jane left her sister behind to beeline over to the baby. “Look at her hands, Momma. She’s the same size as my baby doll, Suzy!”
Wrapped in a thin white embroidered blanket, the baby had a smattering of dark hair and creamy skin like her mother.
“You were that size once upon a time.”
“Her name is Ava.” Hannah laid a l
oving hand upon the baby’s back. “I can’t imagine caring for two at once.” She indicated the twins. “Did you have help?”
Noah’s scrutiny was like a physical touch. He didn’t ask many questions about her past. Part of her was grateful, while the other part was a trifle hurt by his lack of interest.
“I did, yes.” Members of the staff who’d been paid to help her, not family members who did it out of love for her or the girls.
“James has been wonderful with her.” Hannah gazed upon the young man with obvious devotion. She’d introduced him as her fiancé and the father of her child, yet there was no evidence of guilt or shame. She couldn’t help wondering about their circumstances.
“I don’t know about that,” James murmured, dropping a quick kiss on the downy head. “I’m just doing my best.”
What must it be like to have a man willing and eager to help care for a child? A man who adored his family and took pride in them? That was something Grace had never experienced. A pang shot through her chest at the thought of an unknown future. There was no guarantee she’d marry a man capable of such sentiment.
One issue she wouldn’t budge on—the man she married must treat her girls right.
Hannah turned to Noah. “Are you coming to our wedding next weekend, Sheriff?”
“If my sheriff’s duties don’t get in the way, I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful!” To Grace, she said, “I’d love it if you and your daughters would come, too.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be. Weddings are such joyous occasions. Life’s tough out here. You have to seize every chance to celebrate the happy moments.”
Noah shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him.
Jane skipped over. “Can we please, Momma? I’ve never been to a wedding.”
Abigail’s head bobbed in agreement. “Please?”
“I suppose.” Over their squeals, she said, “But only if the sheriff is free to escort us.”
Hannah bounced on her toes, as excited as the girls. She struck Grace as a genuine, sweet-natured girl. “You’ll make sure they come, won’t you, Sheriff? The women of this town have to stick together.”