Sterling’s stomach clenched and he absorbed the full brunt of the accusing stares. In his shock, he’d forgotten his name was on the certificate, not Dillon’s.
“The two of them must have been carrying on right under Dillon’s nose,” someone said behind him.
“Wait just a minute,” he ordered, unsure how to defend himself without dragging Dillon and Heather down along with him.
Otto blocked his view. “Don’t say anything, son. Not until we’ve got this sorted out. You’ll only make matters worse for the both of you.”
Tears pooled in Heather’s eyes, and Sterling instantly longed to reach out and comfort her. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he’d always been drawn to Heather. Her looks were more exotic than traditionally pretty. During his travels he’d often found himself comparing other women he met to her. Her fiery red hair drew attention, and her button nose was adorable. Soft freckles dusted her face from forehead to chin, and her pale blue eyes were surrounded by nearly transparent eyelashes. No one would ever call her beautiful, but she was definitely eye catching.
It was because he admired her that he’d kept his distance. His feelings for her had no bearing on why he’d convinced Dillon to join the cavalry, but she’d never understand. Neither of them would. He sensed if he let down his guard, she’d see past his bravado and discover the truth of his betrayal.
Mrs. Dawson slapped down the postmaster’s waving arm. “It’s forty degrees. Stop fanning me, you dolt.” Sensing she was losing the crowd’s attention, Mrs. Dawson’s voice grew shrill. “We deserve an explanation for this—this travesty.”
Heather started forward. “Let me see that paper. How do I know you’re not lying?”
Otto held her back. “She’s not lying. I saw myself.”
Sterling’s thoughts ricocheted around his head. Dillon had never given him any indication they’d been intimate, yet everything fell into place. After Dillon left, Heather had gone to stay with a friend in Butte. The timing worked, yet questions burned in his brain. Why list him? Had she discovered his part in their breakup? Was this a chance for revenge?
“Miss O’Connor wants a piece of that ranch,” the postmaster mused loudly. “When she couldn’t snag the older brother, she set her sights on the younger one.”
Sterling grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt and nearly lifted him from his feet. “Say that again.”
Otto wrestled the postmaster free. “Not here, Sterling.”
Heather pressed both hands against her mouth and shook her head. “This isn’t right. None of this is right.”
Fury pulsed through him. Sterling felt as though he was separating from his body. He’d trusted his brother. There were no secrets between the two of them.
The child reached out a pudgy hand and tugged on Heather’s lapel. Her chubby pink cheeks plumped into a grin, revealing her two lower teeth.
“Ma!” the child declared. “Ma!”
The breath whooshed from Sterling’s lungs. It appeared there was at least one secret between them.
“This is a disgrace,” Reverend Morris declared. “A disgrace and a black mark on our community.”
The reverend, summoned by the crowd, had hustled them into the church and away from the prying eyes of the townspeople. Sterling and Otto had filed in behind Heather and taken a seat across the aisle.
She slumped in the pew, her eyes downcast. Placing a hand over her churning stomach, she stared at a scuff mark on the floor. Normally she adored the Valentine church. Stained glass windows cast colorful patterns along the polished wood floors, and the vibrant white walls of the nave kept the interior bright and cheerful.
Pressure built behind her eyes. Today was different.
The mail-order baby crawled along the length of a pew, her bare knees squeaking over the polished wood. They’d relegated the care of Grace to her, and she was doing her best to look out for the child.
“I hold myself accountable for the morality of this town.” The reverend paced before them, two fingers smoothing his thick, gray beard. “And you have grievously disappointed me.”
Reverend Morris was a fiercely principled man with a strict moral code of right and wrong, good and bad. There was no middle ground in his mind. If Heather had any complaints about his leadership, it was that his sermons tended to lean more toward righteousness and virtue, and less toward forgiveness and mercy.
“I haven’t done anything to disappoint anyone.” Heather spoke weakly, the denial sounding feeble even to her own ears. “This isn’t my child.”
For an instant she was back at her aunt and uncle’s house, taking the blame for something one of her cousins had done. Never once could she recall her aunt and uncle taking her side against their own children. She was the outsider, so she must be the guilty party, every time.
“Then who does she belong to?” Reverend Morris demanded.
“I don’t know!”
“And you, Sterling.” The reverend stretched out his arm. “Your pa just two months in his grave.”
Sterling fisted his hands on the back of the pew and avoided Heather’s gaze. But her shoulders wilted. She’d seen the doubt in his eyes. If he didn’t have faith in her, he should at least have faith in his brother. Despite her brief infatuation with Dillon, the brothers had always been honorable. Clearly someone had entrapped them both.
Otto sprang to his feet, his hat clutched in his hands. “If these two fine folks say they don’t know anything about this child, then I believe them. And you should too.”
Grace pulled herself up and gummed the back of the pew.
“She’s leaving teeth marks,” the reverend declared. “Don’t let her do that.”
Feeling unaccountably guilty, Heather grasped the child and set her on her lap. Grace turned her curious attention to the lace edge of her collar.
Sterling scooted toward the aisle and leaned her way. “You don’t have to bear this alone. I will make Dillon do the right thing by you. I promise.”
“Oh no you won’t.” Her heart skittered and stopped. She couldn’t think of anything more horrible than being married to Dillon. “This is not our child, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I know the truth.”
She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life attached to a man who’d broken up with her by leaving a note. Especially bound by a child who didn’t belong to either of them.
The reverend narrowed his gaze. “Do you still have feelings for Dillon?”
“No.” She huffed. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well...” The reverend gave a vague gesture. “There’s the child.”
“For the last time, this is not my child. And if this is Dillon’s child, why did he fill out his brother’s name?”
Gracie grasped the ribbons of her bonnet and stuck the ends in her mouth.
“Let’s all take a deep breath.” Otto gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “These are highly unusual and highly irregular circumstances.”
“Highly irregular indeed,” the reverend murmured.
“Hear me out,” Otto continued. “Are we going to believe a piece of paper over two people who have been model citizens in our community?”
The reverend tugged on his beard. The fingers of