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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 beginning.”
“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 (#uda505f9a-5508-556d-92e9-366148cfa2dc)
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.
One of her school lessons featured the mechanics of indoor plumbing. The lessons were especially fascinating for the farm children who mostly made do with water pumps powered by windmills. She’d taught from books without the benefit of a working example, so the water closet drew her attention. Since Sterling was gone, she pulled the chain. There was a clanging sound and water rushed down the brass pipe from the water tank into the porcelain bowl, filling it up, and then suddenly the water in the bowl disappeared. Enthralled, she pulled the chain again.
There was a sink with a spigot and an enormous bathtub with claw feet. The only concession to frontier life was the potbellied stove in the corner for heating. Intrigued by the luxury, she started the coal and set a pail beneath the spigot. A short time later she had the bath prepared, and Gracie was splashing in the shallow, warm water.
By the time they descended the kitchen stairs, they were both as clean and shiny as new pennies. To her delight, the kitchen was extravagantly appointed with wall lamps, a kitchen range, a wall-mounted coffee mill, a box churn with a crank and cast aluminum pots and pans. There were other gadgets whose purposes were a mystery.
Her aunt and uncle had never splurged on anything deemed unnecessary, and their kitchen had been stocked with only the bare minimum. Heather stifled a giggle. Her aunt would be appalled by the apparatus upstairs. A water closet was most definitely a luxury.
The only thing lacking was a full pantry. The shelves were bare save for a bag of coffee beans and a few assorted cans. Sterling obviously didn’t eat in the house.
As though drawn by her thoughts, his shadow appeared before the window set in the back door. He knocked and she pulled on the handle. He held a pail of milk in each hand, which he set inside the door.
“You’ll want to cover those with a damp cloth.” He crossed the kitchen toward the sink. “I’ll fetch some ice for the icebox this afternoon.”
Heather hadn’t even noticed the sturdy piece of furniture. It was an oak cabinet icebox with fancy brass hardware and latches. Sterling opened the door, revealing the zinc lined interior.
He pointed. “The ice block goes there. We cut blocks from the pond in the winter, and keep it stored in hay in a cutout on the side of the hill. I haven’t kept anything in the icebox since I’ve been back. Now that you’re here, I’ll make certain you have a fresh block whenever you need one.”
“Thank you.”
“If I’m not here, fetch one of the boys to help. Don’t try to carry them alone,” he admonished. “They’re too heavy.”
She figured she was plenty strong enough to carry a block of ice, but she dutifully replied, “I won’t.”
“If you give me a list, I’ll fetch what you need from the bunkhouse. That’s where we keep most of the stores these days. The rest can be purchased from town.”
Her stomach rumbled. “All right.”
Gracie tugged on Sterling’s pant leg. “Up. Up.”
He scooped her into his arms and she squealed in delight. “How is she doing this morning?”
“Settling in nicely,” Heather said proudly. “She slept well and had a bath. I was searching for some breakfast when you arrived.”
“I’ll have Woodley send up fixings with the supplies.” He set Gracie on her feet once more. “Is there anything else you need?”
She tapped her chin with one finger and considered their circumstances. “Not right now.”
This was far better than trying to maneuver around in her tiny room attached to the schoolhouse. She’d had to cook dinner on the potbellied stove while nudging Gracie away from the heat with her foot. The Blackwell house was a wonder.
A memory from her childhood home flashed like a picture in her brain: an oriental rug with red and navy knotting. The rest of her memories were from Pittsburgh. That home had been three stories high and narrow. Having an icebox and a stove with more than two burners was a luxury beyond her wildest imaginings.
Sterling snapped his fingers. “The crib. Let me check the hayloft in the barn. That’s where most of the old furniture winds up.”
His tantalizing masculine scent teased her senses. A shock of awareness coursed through her. She recognized the store-bought soap she’d used this morning, but there was something else, as well. There was hay and barn and a decidedly male musk.
She backed toward the stove. “Does Woodley do the cooking?”
“Yes. Such as it is.”
He winked, and a shiver went down her spine. He left her feeling reckless and out of breath. Steeling her wayward emotions, she glanced away. He flashed that same impish wink when he asked for extra potatoes at the café. Whenever she felt herself weaken at his flirtatious behavior, she’d remember that she was getting the same treatment he gave the waitress when he wanted a second helping of a side dish.
This wasn’t exactly a promising beginning to her vow of indifference. She had to work harder at keeping a separation between them, at being cordial—but distant.
“I could take over the job of cooking,” she said. “If you want.”
“That’s Woodley’s job.” Sterling’s mouth quirked up at the corner in a half smile. “He’s been hired to do the cooking. Though I don’t suppose the boys would be opposed to a pie or a loaf of bread now and again to break up the monotony.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
Standing this close to him, she felt something akin to fear. Years ago she’d climbed a tree and slipped from one of the taller limbs. She recalled the feeling of falling, of being out of control and crashing to the ground. The air had whooshed from her lungs as she lay there stunned. She loathed that feeling—the feeling of tumbling out of control. When she gazed at Sterling, she felt as though she was climbing that tree again, inching across a branch that was bound to break at any moment.
Her decision had seemed so simple when she was sitting alone in the schoolhouse. Everything had been neat and orderly in her mind. Logical. And then when he was near, all thoughts of logic and order fled. She didn’t appreciate the confusing jumble of thoughts and feelings, because she hadn’t planned for them.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“You looked worried.”
He was gazing at her with an intensity that left her knees shaky. She must remember that he was only asking those things to be polite. Like complimenting her on her bonnet or lacing his fingers around hers for a step when she took a seat in the wagon. Those were polite, impersonal gestures, meant only for show. He treated the waitress at the café the same as he treated the mayor’s wife. She wasn’t special.
Heather forced a smile. “I was thinking about what a beautiful house you have.”
“My ma designed the house,” he said, his voice quiet. “And my pa supervised the construction. I can’t take any credit.”
He wasn’t gazing at her with those mischievous, blue eyes anymore. They were back on neutral ground. She was learning to read him already.
“Why did you agree?” she blurted suddenly.
“What?”
“Why did you agree to the marriage?” She gathered her courage. If she knew the answer, she’d know how to proceed. “You didn’t have to. With your family’s name and reputation, you could have walked away, but you didn’t.”
“We’re friends, right?”
“I guess.” Her hip bumped the stove. “I’ve never thought about us that way.”
“I don’t know why we were thrown together. We may never know. I suspect my name was chosen because of my family’s wealth. If someone is going to abandon a child, why not choose a rich family? If I’m right, then this was a chance for a Blackwell to do right by you, for once. I saw how much you cared for Gracie. I had a chance to help, and I took that chance. My family has treated you poorly over the years, and I figured we owe you, one way or another.”
