Noah had just finished brushing Samson down that evening when Jane skipped into the barn.
“Hi, Wolfie,” she crooned, her dark sausage curls quivering. Skirts swishing, she marched past the wolf dog and over to where Noah was replacing the brush in the tack room. “Hi, Sheriff. Or should I call you Pa?”
Pa? He spun around and peered down into her freckled face. It took a whole lot of effort not to gape at the pint-size child. “Uh, Sheriff will do for now.”
How was it that her ma was frightened silly of his pet and this little squirt wasn’t fazed? And how come she wasn’t intimidated by him when a majority of the townsfolk had refused to interact with him prior to this sheriff gig?
Jane considered this and nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. “Sheriff, Momma sent me in here to fetch you for supper.”
“She did, huh?”
“Yes, sir. We’re having ham, greens, pickled beets—” her nose scrunched on that one “—and more rolls like we had yesterday. Momma said that since you liked them, we should make them again.”
“Is that so?” He strode to the entrance, and she hopped along beside him. Noah felt tongue-tied in her presence. He wasn’t used to seeing kids, much less engaging in conversation with one. “Did you make dessert?”
She nodded emphatically. “Molasses cookies. Momma says there aren’t many supplies here, so we have to make do with what we have and be thankful for what the good Lord has provided.”
Noah would have to rectify that if Constance agreed to his plan.
“How’s Amelia today?”
She tossed him an imperious look that put him in mind of her mother. “My sister’s name is Abigail.”
“Oh, right.”
Bursting into the cabin ahead of him, Jane announced his presence. He stopped on the threshold, jolted anew by the presence of other people. Every single day for several years he’d come home to an empty cabin and a quiet that at times had mocked his decision to be alone. Now it wasn’t empty or quiet, and he was having trouble adjusting.
Constance was at the stove, flushed and beautifully disheveled, the fixings for their evening meal crowding the counter. Her hair was even messier this evening than last, and he wondered if she was missing Chicago already.
His gaze slipped to the dark-haired, brown-eyed girl in the rocking chair beside the fireplace. Dressed in a ruffled nightgown, she sat with her legs tucked beneath her. Her loose hair hung in limp strands. She looked a lot less miserable than before, but she hadn’t lost her wariness of him. He shifted his stance and, whipping off his hat, held it against his chest. Words lodged in his throat. What would his fellow Union soldiers say if they knew he’d allowed a tiny child to fluster him?
The tang of vinegary greens and salty meat hung in the air. In the center of his table sat a fresh batch of those rolls that melted like pillows of buttery goodness in his mouth. This was one aspect of having a wife that Noah could get used to really quick.
Wiping her hands with a towel, Constance smoothed her hand over her hair and came around the counter, her deportment a testament to her social standing and privilege.
“After our conversation last evening, I was expecting you earlier today.”
Noah’s chest squeezed with a funny sort of wistfulness. No one had expected him home or cared what time he arrived for a very long time. No one had fixed particular dishes with him in mind, either.
“Let’s speak outside.”
Hanging his hat on the coat stand, he waited for her to follow. After instructing the girls to stay away from the hot stove, she joined him. He motioned to one of the rocking chairs. She sank into it, her skirts sighing into place, her head seeking rest against the slats.
“I have a proposal to make.”
Her head jerked back up.
He held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Not that kind of proposal.”
Her honeyed gaze studied him a moment before sliding to the fields and grazing cattle.
“You’re determined to stay in Cowboy Creek,” he said.
“I am.”
“And you’re not looking to marry for love.”
Her disdainful expression aroused his curiosity. He’d assumed most females strove for that elusive emotion. “I thought that was what I was doing the first time I got married. I was proved wrong. All I want now is stability and security for my girls. I want someone who will be kind to them. Take an interest in their raising.”
He recalled Jane’s prayer. “Did your husband treat them poorly? Or you?”
“As you’re not to be my husband, I’m going to choose not to answer that.”
Oddly disappointed, Noah paced to the nearest post and, lifting his arm, propped a hand against it. Constance had spoken of what her daughters needed, but what about her needs?
Constance pushed out of the chair. “The food’s getting cold.” Maintaining her distance, she lifted her chin. “What is this proposal you mentioned?”
“I think it’s best you remain here while searching for a husband.”
Her winged brows swooped upward. “I thought you wanted me to stay in the hotel.”
“Our town’s population is predominately male. We’re working to change that by bringing in bride trains, but we’ve a ways yet to go. A woman such as yourself will be inundated with a passel of prospective grooms.”
“You mean a city woman with no knowledge of being a rancher’s wife?”
His mouth grew dry. He wasn’t about to admit it was her beauty and grace that had him worried. “For these men, any woman of marriageable age will do.”
Her sooty lashes swept down, but not before he glimpsed a despondency that made his scars burn as if they were fresh and raw. His assumption that the wealthy widow must be endowed with a healthy sense of self-worth had been wrong. Imagine that.
He knew nothing about this woman. And he found himself wanting to know everything. A dangerous prospect.
“Will, Daniel and I can help guide you in your decision. We know which men are dependable, hardworking and honorable, and which ones we wouldn’t trust to take care of a dog.”
“We’ve determined you don’t want anything to do with me or my girls.” She stared at where their boots nearly touched. “Why do you care who we wind up with?”
Because Daniel was right. While Noah had no part in bringing her here, he felt responsible for her. He wouldn’t know peace if she made a regrettable choice.
“Just because I look like a stone-hearted beast doesn’t mean I lack sentiment. I would never forgive myself if you wound up with a man who mistreated you or the girls.”
Her startled gaze whipped to his, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t think you look like a beast. Nor do I believe you’ve a heart of stone. You may have changed greatly from that man in the photograph, but the war and your injuries didn’t strip your humanity away.”
Noah couldn’t speak. There was something in her voice and in her gaze that transported him back years, to the innocent, hopeful dreamer he had once been. A man with a bright future ahead of him. A man who’d counted on being a husband and father someday.
“You’ve been snooping through my house?” He seized on the bitterness and anger that had been his faithful companions since the day he woke up in a field hospital. No way could he allow former dreams to live again. Love. Family. Intimacy. It wasn’t possible.