Table of Contents

Cover Page

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

Excerpt

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author

Copyright

10TH ANNIVERSARY

Special thanks to our well-wishers, who have contributed their congratulations and support.

“The best historicals, the best romances. Simply the best!”

—Dallas Schulze

“Bronwyn Williams was born and raised at Harlequin Historicals. We couldn’t have asked for a better home or a more supportive family.”

—Dixie Browning and Mary Williams, w/a Bronwyn Williams

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years since Private Treaty, my first historical novel, helped launch the Harlequin Historicals line. What a thrill that was! And the beat goes on…with timeless stories about men and women in love.”

—Kathleen Eagle

“Nothing satisfies me as much as writing or reading a Harlequin Historical novel. For me, Harlequin Historicals are the ultimate escape from the problems of everyday life.”

—Ruth Ryan Langan

“As a writer and reader, I feel that the Harlequin Historicals line always celebrates a perfect blend of history and romance, adventure and passion, humor and sheer magic.”

—Theresa Michaels

“Thank you, Harlequin Historicals, for opening up a ‘window into the past’ for so many happy readers.”

—Suzanne Barclay

“As a one-time ‘slush pile’ foundling at Harlequin Historicals, I’ll be forever grateful for having been rescued and published as one of the first ‘March Madness’ authors. Harlequin Historicals has always been the place for special stories, ones that blend the magic of the past with the rare miracle of love for books that readers never forget.”

—Miranda Jarrett

“A rainy evening. A cup of hot chocolate. A stack of Harlequin Historicals. Absolute bliss! Happy tenth Anniversary and continued success.”

—Cheryl Reavis

“Happy birthday, Harlequin Historicals! I’m proud to have been a part of your ten years of exciting historical romance.”

—Elaine Barbieri

“Harlequin Historicals novel are charming or disarming with dashes and clashes. These past times are fast times, the gems of romances!”

—Karen Harper

Flint
Hills
Bride
Cassandra
Austin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Megan,

our family’s most recent bride

Jake felt too damn good to even
consider apologizing.

He glanced Emily’s way and discovered her scowl had deepened. “What?” she demanded. “Why are you grinning?”

“You first,” he said, making an effort to be serious. “Why are you frowning?”

“You’re impossible,” she said. “I should hate you!”

“Why?” He truly was bewildered now. “Because I left you? Or because I kissed you?”

“Yes. Yes. And for other reasons. I should hate you. But I can’t!” She slammed her gloved hand down on the saddle horn, and it made the softest of thuds.

He laughed. He knew he shouldn’t. He should take her unhappiness seriously, no matter how little sense it made. “You’re angry because you can’t hate me? Of course you can’t hate me. We’ve been friends forever. That’s what friends do. They get angry, and then they forgive each other.”

“I don’t want to forgive you,” she muttered…

Chapter One

Kansas, 1881

“Am I to understand I’m under arrest?” Emily’s gaze went from the deputy’s badge to the serious green eyes.

“Well, I’m not sure, ma’am. You say you’re Emily Prescott, but you don’t fit the description. I was expecting a tomboy in braids.”

“Very funny, Jake.”

His flash of a smile faded as she glared at him.

Noisy activity surrounded them on the train depot’s platform. Emily barely noticed. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her and regarded Jake Rawlins with growing irritation. “My parents sent you, didn’t they? I can just hear them. ‘Take her to her brother’s ranch, and see that she stays there.’ ‘Telegraph immediately if she doesn’t get off the train.’ It amounts to house arrest, Jake!”

She brushed past him to find her trunk. He followed, of course. She hadn’t expected to get away from him, merely to be out from under his scrutiny long enough to get her temper under control. None of this was Jake’s fault.

“I’m not your guard,” he said softly. “I’m just your ride to the ranch.”

“And that explains why they sent you, Deputy?” She found her trunk. A sudden wave of exhaustion made her turn and sit on it, clasping her gloved hands on her lap.

He moved to stand in front of her. “I volunteered, Emily. I’m headed the same way you are. Remember, my parents live on your brother’s ranch.”

She sighed, regretting her short temper as she always did. “I remember, Jake. But I visit the ranch regularly, and I’ve hardly seen you the last three years.”

A somber nod acknowledged the truth of the statement. “I’m trying to correct that,” he said. “I heard you were coming early for Christmas, and it seemed like a perfect excuse to take a vacation and spend time with…my family.”

Emily noticed the hesitation. Perhaps there was a rift between him and Martha or Perry that she had not been aware of. Perhaps he would be more understanding than she had expected. She cocked her head to one side as she looked up at him. “So that’s all they told you? That I would be coming in today?”

After a long moment, he slowly shook his head.

The anger swept over her again, and she came to her feet. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream or run. Before she could do either, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She was momentarily surprised by how gentle the touch was, then wondered why. Jake had never been anything but kind to her.

“We’ve known each other since we were babies, Emily. I thought we were friends. Have things changed so much?”

His soft voice dissolved her anger, leaving only defeat in its wake. “Everything’s changed, Jake. Look around you. When my parents were separated, I came here once or twice a year to be with my father. This was a little place called Cottonwood Station. Now it’s a town called Strong.”

He was eyeing her quizzically, and she had to laugh at herself. “Which has nothing to do with anything, I suppose, except that all the way here I kept wishing I was still the little girl you remember. I wanted to get off the train and find everything as it was, for life to be simple again.”

The deep worry that was always with her rose to the surface. She turned away to keep from revealing it to Jake. She had grown accustomed to hiding it with anger until she didn’t like herself anymore. “I’m ready to go now,” she said. “And, Jake—” she turned back to face him “—it’s good to see you again.”

Jake made Emily wait inside the depot near the stove while he loaded her trunk into the boot at the back of the buggy. He had ridden out to the ranch the day before to bring the buggy into town. Emily’s brother, Christian, had suggested he use the wagon since Emily might have more than one trunk, but Jake had declined. The buggy offered more protection from the cold wind than the wagon. He would make two trips if he had to, but Emily would be as comfortable as he could make her.

He hadn’t really been too busy to come home for holidays the past three years. He had avoided the ranch when he knew Emily would be there. His hopeless attraction for her would fade, he had reasoned, if he didn’t have to look at her. The irony was it had almost worked. Then he had heard she was in trouble, and reason had gone out the window.

In three years she had only grown more beautiful. At eighteen, her face had lost a little of its plumpness making her dark brown eyes more striking. They sparkled when she teased, as they always had, and her expressive lips that smiled and pursed and pouted looked as kissable as they did in his fantasies.

He shook himself and hurried into the depot. Emily was chatting with another patron, and he let her finish as he collected the blanket he had hung over a chair near the stove. “Are you ready to go?” he asked when she turned toward him.

She moved to walk outside with him. “Do you need anything in town?” he asked, handing her up into the buggy. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “Mama sent a lunch with me,” she said. “But thanks.”

It was foolish to cherish the smile she gave him, but he would readily admit to being a fool where Emily Prescott was concerned. At least her anger of a few minutes before seemed to be forgotten. He climbed up beside her and unfolded the warm blanket, tucking it across her lap.

“That was sweet of you, Jake,” she said. She sounded more amused than grateful.

“Easy enough to do,” he said, shaking the lines and starting the horse forward. Now he was feeling foolish to the point of embarrassment. She had an annoying knack for doing that.

She laughed, and he risked a glance at her. The teasing grin took him back so quickly he could have sworn he was seventeen and she twelve.

“You better be careful or you’ll spoil me,” she said.

“Oh, no, not me. Somebody—everybody—else took care of that long ago.”

She laughed, wrapping herself around his upper arm. “Didn’t you help them at all, Jake?”

The face that turned up to him was so appealing he wanted to kiss it. Or at least throw off his glove and run his fingers down her soft, pale cheeks. He gripped the reins more tightly. “I guess I did my share,” he admitted softly.

The teasing light went out of her eyes, and she turned her face away. He was being too serious, and their relationship had never had much room for that. But he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t worried about her.

He took a deep breath, letting the bite of the cold air clear his head. His voice was even when he began. “Emily, your parents sent you here because of some young man.” She let go of his arm and moved away from him, and he was sorry. “Tell me your side.”

“My side! Did they write to you? Tell me what they said!”

Jake kept his voice quiet. “I talked to Christian. He said the fella’s unemployed, reckless, wild—”

“What!”

“And in jail for tearing up a neighbor’s yard.”

She kept her face turned away from him, hiding even her profile behind the hood of her cloak. He waited patiently for her to speak.

“It was an accident,” she murmured. “It’s all a big misunderstanding.”

“He accidentally rode through their rose garden on horseback? He accidentally pulled up a fence? He—”

“Enough!”

Jake waited for her to decide what, if anything, she would tell him. It was a long ride to the ranch, and he had hoped she would confide in him. He couldn’t imagine why he had thought she would. What was he to her anyway? A childhood playmate? Something less than a brother? Certainly not what he wanted to be.

The team clopped along the road, creating a monotonous rhythm. A rabbit darted across their path and disappeared in the tall grass. The buggy creaked and rattled softly. Jake heard his back teeth grind together and made an effort to relax. After several minutes he gave up hope of hearing any more from Emily.

“I don’t believe it happened the way they say,” she said, startling him.

“What do you believe?”

He heard her take a deep breath. He didn’t dare look at her for fear she would read the pain on his face. He kept his eyes on the track and waited.

“Anson is a good man,” she began. “He isn’t reckless and wild. He just believes in having fun. Old people can’t understand that. He’s going to work in his father’s flour mill, but there isn’t any room for him yet.”

Jake cast her a skeptical glance, but she was turned away.

“The neighbor that accused him of tearing up his garden is a grouchy old man who doesn’t get along with anyone. Even Papa doesn’t like him.”

Jake resisted the urge to turn toward her, hoping she would continue, afraid she wouldn’t if she knew what he was feeling. He turned his gaze toward the sky. It was blue, he thought irrelevantly. Blue in December. It should be gray, damned gray.

When she had remained silent for several minutes he tried to prompt her into more details. “Your parents objected to Anson Berkeley before this incident.”

“They want to keep me a baby and would have objected to anyone. His parents have at least as much money as mine do. There’s no reason to treat him the way they do.”

Jake schooled his features and turned to watch her. He was rewarded a moment later when she glanced at him. He hoped she read the honest concern in his face; he read indecision in hers. “Emily,” he said softly, “I’m your friend. Tell me about him.”

She wrapped her arm around his and rested her head on his biceps, sighing deeply. “I know you’re my friend, Jake. In fact, you may be my only friend. Everyone else is ready to judge both Anson and me.”

“Not me,” he lied. “You’re both innocent till proven guilty.” He had to swallow hard before he could ask, “Are you in love with him?”

Her sigh sounded different this time. “Yes, I love him. And he loves me. We’ve promised to love each other forever.”

Jake didn’t want to think about the implications of that statement. His pulse quickened. From her touch? From anger?

Unmindful of his pain, she continued, “He’s so handsome, and exciting. I’ve never known anyone like him.”

Jake heard his back teeth crunch together again. He spoke to the team, urging them to increase their infuriating pace.

“He takes me places,” she went on, “that I’d never get to go if my parents had their way.”

“Places?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as furious as he felt. Where the hell had this bastard taken his Emily?

“Clubs. Where there’s music and dancing and laughter.”

“And drinking? That’s illegal now. They voted in prohibition last year, Emily.”

She pulled away from him again. “You’re no different than the rest.”

“Well, maybe all of us are right!” He regretted it immediately.

They rode for miles without either of them saying a word. The sound of the plodding hooves and creaking buggy was broken only by the brief chirp of a robin too stupid to have flown south. Jake watched it fly off into the ridiculously blue sky.

Jake knew he should have just listened, but his own feelings kept getting in the way. He told himself that if Emily loved this man he couldn’t be all bad. Her happiness was what was important. His jealousy was jeopardizing their friendship, and they needed to stay friends if he was going to help her.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “You’re right I have no call to judge. If Anson Berkeley is the man you want, then I hope things work out for you.”

She murmured her thanks, but didn’t move back toward him. He wanted to wrap his arm around her and pull her against his side, but he knew she would resist.

After many minutes he cleared his throat. “Ma packed some lemonade if you’re thirsty.”

“I don’t want any.”

“Well, Ma’s not going to buy that She’s going to think I forgot to offer it to you.”

She turned and glared. “Tell her you ruined my appetite.”

At least she was looking at him. “I guess I can accept the blame there. But I did apologize.” He pulled the basket out from under the seat. “If you don’t want any, I’ll have to drink all the evidence. If it’s a choice between a bellyache and being in trouble with Ma, well…”

She hadn’t smiled, but she was having to work to hold it back. “You could just pour it on the ground.”

“You would let me do that? With lemonade? You are mad at me!”

She finally laughed, and he felt relief that was clearly more than the situation warranted. He handed her one of the small jars from its straw nest in the basket.

She took it and drank a little before screwing the lid back on and placing the jar between her feet. She didn’t seem quite as tense as she had earlier, and he hoped that meant she had forgiven him. Still, as he waited for her to talk to him again, he tried to think of something to say, something neutral that would prove he was her friend. Finally he accepted the silence, though he didn’t enjoy it. The ride to the ranch seemed to take longer than it ever had before.

Emily wished she hadn’t told Jake anything. He was as closed minded as the rest. For a moment she had thought she detected some jealousy in his reactions. But surely she had imagined it. He was just being stupid and brotherly like Arlen had and Christian, no doubt, would.

Go where we say! See who we say! Do as we say! She was sick of it. Anson had come at just the right time to rescue her from the boring life they all had planned for her.

And she would be with Anson again. There was no question about that. One way or another, they would be together.

She let her mind drift back to the first time they had met, reliving the excitement of his eyes on her, the adventure of being included in his close little group, the wonder at being singled out as his favorite, then his love. She tried to push away the apprehension that prickled the back of her mind.

She was so lost in thought that when she felt the buggy turn off the road she looked up in surprise. The huge rock house with its many balconies filled her with sudden nostalgia. They rode up the hill and around the house to the second-level entrance. Before Jake had even pulled the buggy to a stop, Christian was there to greet her. He lifted her out, hugging her to his chest and spinning her around as he had done since she was a child.

He set her back on the ground but waited a moment to let her go, giving her his familiar dimpled smile. “Get inside where it’s warm, muffin,” he said, guiding her toward the door, with his arm around her shoulder. “Jake and I’ll get the trunk.”

She spared Jake one last glance and, though his father had joined him, his eyes were on her. She wondered what he was thinking then decided she would just as soon not know.

Christian’s pretty wife, Lynnette, opened the back door and welcomed her inside with a kiss on her cheek. Two little children peeked from behind her skirts as she helped Emily out of her cloak, scarf and gloves.

“Hello, Willa. Hello, Trevor.” Emily crouched down and tried to coax them out. “Do you remember me?”

Trevor grinned and buried his face in a fistful of his mother’s skirt, but Willa stepped forward. “I ’member you. You’re Aunt Emily. Trevor’s just a dumb ol’ baby and doesn’t ‘member nothin’.”

Lynnette pried her skirt free and lifted the boy, positioning him around her protruding belly. Another child was due in three months. “Let’s get inside by the fire,” she said. “You must be freezing.”

Willa took Emily’s hand. “Mama said it was too cold to go outside and meet you, but it wasn’t, was it?”

“It’s pretty cold,” Emily said. “I think I’ll ask Martha for some tea.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lynnette said. “You go on in and make yourself at home.”

“It’s not too cold for Papa to go outside and meet you,” Willa observed, dragging Emily into the living room.

“Papa’s doing chores,” Emily said, laughing at Willa’s pout. She was a perfect combination of her parents, with her mother’s fine features and her father’s blond hair. Trevor was the opposite, a dark-haired version of Christian, dimples and all.

“I can do the chores,” the little girl insisted.

“I bet you can,” Emily said, moving to stand before the fire. “Though why you would want to is beyond me.”

“I’m almost five,” Willa said, explaining everything.

Christian and Lynnette hadn’t changed the living room much in the five years they had been married. Her father’s books and artifacts had gone with him to Topeka and had been replaced by some of their own. The room bore traces of little children, but the furniture and its arrangement was essentially as it had always been, making her feel for just a moment as if she had stepped back in time.

Lynnette, with Trevor on her hip, joined them. “Martha will have the tea ready in a few minutes.” She sat down and swung Trevor onto her lap. He grinned shyly at Emily.

Emily was trying to get him to say “Emily” when Jake and Christian brought her trunk through the room and up the stairs. She tried not to watch them. They had shed their coats at the door, and it was disconcerting to realize that Jake was a full-grown man. Though why this troubled her she wasn’t sure.

“I’ll help,” yelled Willa, running to catch up with the men. She pushed her little hands against the trunk.

“Run around in front, biscuit, and get the door,” Christian suggested.

Emily laughed. “She’s his biscuit and I’m his muffin.”

“All his favorite females he nicknames after food.”

Emily grinned at her sister-in-law. “And you are…?”

Lynnette grimaced and adjusted her snug dress. “Right now I’m his dumpling.”

Emily laughed. She hadn’t realized her gaze had gone back to the men working their way up the open stairway until Lynnette spoke again.

“Jake’s taking two weeks off to visit his parents. He tries to visit often, but he doesn’t usually stay long. They’ve really looked forward to this.”

Emily nodded. She hoped that meant his parents would keep him so busy she wouldn’t see much of him.

Emily made a face at Trevor, trying to coax another smile out of him. She didn’t want to talk about Jake. But she didn’t want to talk about herself, either. She wondered what her parents had said about her and Anson in the letter that preceded her. She would probably find out soon enough.

Trevor mimicked Emily’s wrinkled nose and scrunched lips, making Emily laugh. Willa’s high-pitched giggle and the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught her attention. Christian, with Willa on his shoulders, turned in their direction at the bottom of the stairs. Jake, without a glance at her, went the other way toward the kitchen.

“We’re glad to have you here, muffin,” Christian said, joining them. He set Willa on the floor, then kissed Emily’s cheek. “I’ll finish the chores then we can talk.”

As Christian left the room, Emily sighed and slumped into a chair. “Another lecture?” she asked her sister-in-law.

“From Christian? I doubt it,” Lynnette replied. “But you know your brother. He feels responsible for everyone, and he’s very worried about you. He wants to hear your side.”

“Where have I heard that before?” she muttered.

“Emily, I’m the first one to say a woman should be allowed to make up her own mind, but you’re young and the things we hear about this young man are not good. We want to be sure it’s you making the decisions, not this young man.”

Martha, with a tray of tea and teacups, saved her from having to make a response. Willa declared it a tea party and kept the women busy moving tables and chairs to accommodate the younger guests. By the time the tea was gone Emily could honestly claim fatigue and retire to her room.

She sat down on the bed, her mind in too much turmoil to try to rest. She eyed the trunk that she knew she should unpack, but even thinking about it seemed to take too much energy. She let her eyes roam the room. The holidays she had spent here the past few years seemed to blend together in her memory, but the summers when she was a child were as distinct as separate photographs.

She sat and recalled when the quilt, the picture on the wall, the little writing desk had each been bought and added to the room. Her eyes fell on a doll propped beside a row of books on the shelf above the desk. She had been six when her father had bought it. She had taken it back and forth between the ranch and Topeka for several years. Then when she was twelve, she had left it here.

She lifted the doll from the shelf, unconscious of having moved toward it. She smoothed aside the mangled hair and smiled down at the painted face. This had been her baby. In a display of vanity she had named it Emily.

She felt tears forming in her eyes and tried to blink them away. It was too early to know, too early yet to worry. And besides, Anson loved her. It would all work out. They would convince their families somehow and be married before the baby came.

She put the doll back on the shelf, determined not to think about it, and resolutely turned her attention to her trunk. She was nearly unpacked when she heard a knock on the door.

“Can I come in, muffin?”

She slid the drawer closed as she answered, turned and waited for her brother to enter. He closed the door behind him and opened his arms to her.

She ran to him, accepting his offer of comfort. He stroked her hair and rocked her gently. “I’ve been worried since I got Pa’s letter.” She heard the rumble of his voice in his chest under her ear. “I guess I wish you’d stay a little girl forever.”

She drew away so she could see his face. “I can’t,” she stated. “I’m grown, and I’m in love. Why make things hard for me?”

“The man’s in jail.” He cut off her protest with a finger on her lips. “We don’t want to see anyone break your heart.”

“Let me go back to him.”

He shook his head. “It’s hard for me to deny you anything, but our parents have forbidden you to contact him, and I have to say I agree with them.”

She pulled out of his arms and crossed the room, moving aside the curtain that hung in front of the glass balcony door and looked down on the brown valley below.

“Emily, they’ll be here in two weeks. We can talk it all out then. If you still feel the same, I’ll take your side.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she said.

“If it’s love, it’ll survive two weeks.”

She swung around to face him. “But he needs me now!”

Christian seemed only saddened by her outburst. “I’m sorry, Emily,” he said.

She scowled at him as he left her room. Two weeks wouldn’t make any difference to her parents. Christian’s arguments probably wouldn’t, either. Even her pregnancy—if there was a pregnancy—might not make them see reason. One of her friends from school had confided in her parents and had been sent to a maternity sanitarium. She had come home after the baby was born—a baby she was never even given a chance to see.

No, she couldn’t count on her parents. Or Christian. If she was going to be with Anson, she would have to do something herself.

Emily had hoped to spend the rest of the afternoon alone, but only minutes after Christian left, there was another knock followed by a loud whisper. “Are you sleeping?”

Emily opened the door and Willa flounced in. “Mama put Trevor down for a nap, and now she’s writing.”

Emily smiled at the girl’s sour face. Lynnette wrote love stories under the name Silver Nightingale. It had created quite a sensation when the family had first heard about it, though they were used to it now.

“I know!” Willa declared, trying to snap her fingers. “I’ll go make cookies.”

“You will?” Emily was always surprised at the girl’s self-confidence. “Have you made them by yourself before?”

“No, but I can. I’ll show you how, if you want.”

Emily laughed and took the child’s hand. While they went down the stairs, one step at a time, Willa related all the times she had helped make cookies, cakes and pies. By the time they rounded the bottom of the stairs and went through the dining room, Emily was almost convinced that the girl could make the treat herself.

She pushed through the kitchen door with a chattering Willa behind her and came face-to-face with Jake. The little girl skipped around her and headed toward Martha at the other end of the room. Emily stood staring at Jake.

After a moment she realized that he was actually several feet away and the plank table separated them. Somehow their eyes had locked in such a way as to minimize the distance. It was disconcerting, and she made an effort to shake it off.

She tore her eyes from his face and only then did she realize what he was doing. On the table were several piles of Martha’s dried flowers and a half-filled vase.

She grinned at him. “Here’s a talent I wasn’t aware of. Is this how you keep yourself busy between chasing desperados?”

He looked down at the flowers as if surprised to find them there. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me,” he said. “I’m arranging flowers without the first idea of what I’m doing.”

She laughed and joined him on his side of the table. “Are these for the dining table?”

He nodded.

“And what are these for?” She slid a pair of scissors out from under a few dry stems.

“Trimming my nails?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. It wouldn’t do for him to think he had actually made her laugh. She was still mad at him. “Dear little Jake,” she said, looking up into his face a good eight inches above hers. “Flowers on the table can’t be so tall as to block people’s view of one another. These must be trimmed.”

She lifted the flowers out of the vase and prepared to start over. “You can run along now,” she said, uncertain whether she really wanted him to go or not.

“Oh, no. If I leave this to you, Ma’ll find me another job, and you might not come help.”

Had she imagined his emphasis on you? She was suddenly warm. Did he really have to stand so close? She was starting to feel slightly light-headed. It was the faint scent of the flowers, surely. She trimmed two of the brittle stems to the appropriate length and handed him the scissors, forcing him with her elbow to move a step away. “Trim all of those,” she said, indicating a pile of flowers, “the same length as these.”

She watched him take four of the flowers, line their heads up and carefully measure them against one of her trimmed flowers. Snap. He handed her the newly trimmed bouquet, giving her a courtly bow.

The pleased look on his face made her want to laugh. He was acting more inept than he actually was. She dropped the flowers into the vase and waited for his next offering. It came quickly. He was having fun now, trying five and six at a time. Soon the vase was full, and she called a halt to his trimming.

He snapped the scissors in the air twice, as if unsatisfied. “Now what?” he asked.

“Now, nothing. We put it on the table.”

“We’re done? That wasn’t so hard.”

Emily lifted the bowl as Martha stopped beside the table. “That’s lovely, children. I think the two of you should make the Christmas wreaths, you work so well together. Why don’t you go set the table while I clean up here?”

Emily nodded and headed for the door. Jake went around her quickly and held it open. “See what you did,” he whispered as she passed. He followed her into the dining room adding, “Now we have to make the wreaths. You should have let me do it wrong, and we’d never be asked again.”

She laughed as she set the vase on the sideboard and bent to find a tablecloth inside. “What kind of attitude is that for a lawman?”

She rose and turned before he answered. She thought for an instant that the gleam in his eye was something other than teasing, but it was gone before she could determine what it was.

“Lawman,” he said. “There’s the key. One wrong move, and I was ready to arrest those flowers.” He took an end of the cloth as she unfolded it and helped her spread it smoothly over the table. “But gussy up a wreath with pine cones and ribbons? I don’t know.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Emily retrieved the vase of flowers and set it in the middle of the table. She realized she was looking forward to working on decorations with Jake. For the past few minutes, while they had made up the bouquet, she had been able to forget her worries.

She looked up to find him watching her again, that strange light back in his eyes. He turned quickly and headed for the sideboard. In a moment he was back with a handful of silverware. He didn’t look at her, and she didn’t speak, afraid of what she would see if she forced him to turn in her direction.

She went to gather the plates and napkins, aware of Jake in a way totally different from a few moments before. She felt almost an attraction. But that was absurd. She was merely missing Anson. Or responding to Jake’s attraction to her.

How could this have happened, this sudden change in perspective? And she knew she wasn’t imagining it.

Chapter Two

That night Jake lay on his bed in his parents’ frame house not far from the Prescotts’ stone mansion and studied the window-shaped moonlight on the ceiling. Why was he in love with Emily? Of course he had asked himself the same question many times over the years. There had never been a satisfactory answer.

Why shouldn’t he be in love with her? Now there was a question with plenty of answers. His family worked for hers, for one. Her family was rich, and he was a two-dollars-a-day deputy. She was a city girl who played at being a rancher in the summer and on holidays. He was a country boy who would be lost in the city and make a fool of himself at any fancy social event.

And it wasn’t as if she were perfect. She was more than a little spoiled, moderately lazy and very mouthy. Of course her sharp tongue had always been witty enough to be entertaining. He had usually felt he held his own in their verbal sparring.

Maybe she wasn’t really lazy. He only saw her when she was on vacation. Her family had bragged about her high marks in school, and he assumed she worked for the grades. She was actually quite an accomplished horsewoman, and, according to his mother, wonderful with Christian’s lively children.

Jake groaned and rolled to his side. Soon he would be convincing himself that she wasn’t really spoiled, that she simply deserved all the attention and advantages she had gotten all her life.

The whys and why-nots of his feelings didn’t change them. He wanted her. She made his pulse race simply by entering the room. She made him feel like a king when she smiled up at him. She filled his dreams.

God knows he had tried to feel the same way about other, more accessible, women. It never worked. He had compared them all to Emily, and they had all fallen short.

And now she was in love with someone else, someone totally unacceptable. God forgive him, but he had been thrilled to learn her family didn’t approve. He could feel less guilty for hating the bastard.

It was going to be hell being with her every day, knowing she was thinking about Berkeley, but it was something he had to do. He had to protect her. He told himself he wasn’t going to try to win her. He wasn’t acceptable, either. Someday he would have to watch her marry someone else.

But not now. And not Berkeley.

Emily woke early the next morning. It was Sunday, and both families would be attending a little country church. Martha would have been up early preparing a box dinner to eat at the church. She wasn’t sure if she was looking forward to seeing all her old neighbors or not.

She lay in bed listening to the soft voices coming from the other room. Lynnette was trying to keep Willa quiet, but it was impossible. The girl chattered nearly every waking moment.

Emily smiled as a few of the child’s words reached her. “But Aunt Emily…” and “…almost Christmas!” Not the kind of things to encourage an excitable little girl to additional sleep.

She heard doors open and close and guessed Lynnette had gone into the nursery to get Trevor. After a few minutes of Willa’s hushed chatter the little group went downstairs.

Emily considered getting up and joining them for breakfast, but she hated breakfast. In fact, just thinking about it made her feel queazy. And sharing the table with the two little ones last night didn’t make her eager to repeat the experience. Oh, they were lovely children; in fact, they were adorable. But they were more than she could handle this early in the morning.

“What I have to look forward to,” she muttered, then wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure yet.

She sat up in bed and fought back a wave of dizziness. “It’s too early to get up,” she muttered, holding her head. But the spell passed quickly.

After slipping into her robe, she crossed the room in her bare feet. She would write to Anson. She would address it in care of his family; they would see that he got it. Somehow she would figure out how to get the letter to the post office.

With pen and paper she told him how much she loved him and missed him. She tried to relate how much she wanted them to be together, how she would be there with him if it were possible.

She didn’t tell him about the baby. She needed to be sure then tell him in person. She didn’t know how he would react. He had never mentioned marriage, though it had seemed to be understood between them. Still, it wasn’t something she should tell him in a letter.

She did tell him, however, that she was confident he would soon be released, and, if not for her family’s obstinacy, they would be together.

She wrote that she was staying with her brother, where the ranch was located, and how, from a certain direction, it was almost hidden by a hill. She described a spot where a trail behind the barn curved around the hillside. She promised to walk there every morning and think of him.

An hour later the carefully worded letter was finished. She left it on the desk and dressed and fixed her hair. When she was ready to go downstairs, she reread the letter, hoping it said what she needed it to, and folded and sealed it.

How was she to get it to town? Christian had said she was forbidden to contact Anson. Lynnette wasn’t likely to defy her husband. Besides, she was so burdened with children she was next to no help. Martha or her husband, Perry? Too loyal to Christian.

Jake. His connection with her family was certainly less than his parents’. Would he sneak it into town for her? Did she dare ask him? He had made it clear, in spite of his apology, what he thought of Anson. Still he was her best hope.

She slipped the letter into the bodice of her dress, checking herself in the mirror to make sure it didn’t show. Before she turned away she caught a glimpse of her face and stopped. Her eyes looked almost haunted. She forced a smile to her lips and blinked away the fear. If not for the constant worry, she could believe that being in love was good for her complexion. She almost glowed.

She started to turn toward the door, laughing off the silly thought when something else occurred to her. She hadn’t imagined the look on Jake’s face last night. He had feelings for her. Could she use them? She stared at her reflection. It seemed so dishonest, so…cruel. Yet.

She pictured herself on her wedding day, walking down the aisle while the guests snickered at her rounded belly. She couldn’t wait until her family came to their senses. With a seductive wink at her reflection, she turned away.

The open stairway was situated in the center of the house, and Emily could look down on both the living room and dining room as she descended. Lynnette was in the living room retying a bow at the back of Willa’s dress while the girl chattered an explanation of how it had come undone. Trevor sat on Martha’s lap watching his sister with devoted attention.

Lynnette had just turned the little girl around and kissed her on the cheek when Emily entered the room. “Emily, dear,” she said, moving to greet her. “We were going to let you sleep. Of course, we’d love to have you join us.”

“Thanks,” she said as Willa came to take her hand. “I’ll go along and keep my niece occupied. I’ll see if I can make her giggle aloud in church.”

“No. Not me. I’ll make you giggle.”

Their tickling match was interrupted by Christian’s announcement that the buggy was ready. Wrapped in coats and hats, the women and children crowded into the seat while the men mounted horses to ride alongside.

Emily caught a glimpse of Jake as she settled Trevor on her lap, but he rode enough behind that she didn’t see him again until they arrived. He helped his mother out of the buggy and, with his father, escorted her into the little stone church.

Through the service and the lunch that followed, she was never successful at catching his eye. She was conscious always of the stiff letter tucked inside her bodice.

Finally the families began to repack their dishes, gather up their children and start for home. Both Willa and Trevor were asleep by the time they reached the ranch. Lynnette carried Trevor up to his bed while Christian carried Willa inside. She awoke as soon as the warm air hit her. Christian left her in Emily’s care and went out to take care of the horses.

“Let’s play checkers,” Willa suggested.

Emily agreed. There was little else she could do. Jake was no doubt helping with the horses, but if she went out to find him now, she would also find Christian. Jake would probably spend the rest of the day close to his family. Her chances of delivering the letter were almost nonexistent.

By the time Willa had the game board set up, Lynnette joined them in the living room. She offered to play the winner, giving Emily an excuse to beg off. Willa didn’t seem to mind, and Emily, pleading a headache, escaped to her room.

Upstairs Emily pulled the letter from the bodice of her dress. How was she going to get it to Jake? Of course, even if she found a way, there was no guarantee he would agree to take it to the post office.

Feeling depressed, she dropped the letter onto her desk and removed her dress and shoes. She hadn’t intended to sleep, but now that she was alone she found herself feeling increasingly tired. In a very short time she was asleep and didn’t awaken until nearly supper time.

Martha was given the afternoon off on Sundays, and Emily found Lynnette in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. Both children were there offering their own brands of help. Emily gathered Trevor into her arms, but he decided to be shy and cried for his mother. Emily handed him to Lynnette and took over the cooking instead.

In short order the simple meal was ready, and they moved into the dining room to set the table and wait for Christian.

“I’m glad you came with us this morning, Emily,” Lynnette said as they laid out plates and forks. “It went a long way to relieving Christian’s mind.”

“Was he afraid I’d run away while you were gone?”

Lynnette laughed, startling her. “No, I don’t know as that occurred to him. He just imagined you moping around here all day. He doesn’t think that would be good for you.”

Emily straightened the place setting in front of her, avoiding Lynnette’s eyes. “I decided that time would pass more quickly if I was busy. Anson and I may not be together any sooner, but it’ll seem like it.”

Lynnette didn’t respond and in a few minutes Christian joined them. The children required considerable attention during the meal, and Emily was left in peace. Later, she volunteered to do the dishes, shooing the family into the other room. Once the dining room and the kitchen were put back in order, she returned to her room, using an exciting novel as an excuse.

In her room, she found herself too keyed up to read. Instead she paced until she was tired enough to sleep.

The children woke Emily again the next morning. She listened to them go down the stairs and fought off a queazy feeling she was beginning to associate with the thought of breakfast People weren’t intended to get up this early, she decided. She lay in bed for a long time, plotting how she was going to talk to Jake alone. She would do it today if she had to help with chores herself, she decided.

Then she went over just what she might say to him, and what his response might be. She hoped to prepare herself with a convincing plea against any possible argument.

Finally she realized her planning had become an excuse to put off the doing and rose. Still she found herself taking her time getting dressed, wishing for some sudden flash of insight that would lead her to just the right words to convince Jake.

Before she left her room, she slipped the letter into the bodice of her dress as she had the day before. She had a brief picture of her doing that every morning from now till Christmas. No. She would get the letter to Jake today.

As she descended the stairs she noticed that both rooms below her were empty. She walked through the dining room to the kitchen, expecting to find Lynnette and the children there. Martha was alone.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, peering over Martha’s shoulder at the bread she was kneading. She watched for a chance to grab a pinch of the yeasty dough. It was now late morning, and she was hungry.

“They’re downstairs.”

“Downstairs? You mean down-downstairs?” She brought her prize to her mouth and sucked her fingers. “You mean in the ballroom?”

“It’s more like a playroom, now,” Martha said.

Emily wanted to groan. The house had been built on a hillside with the middle floor at ground level in back. That and the top floor were the only parts of the house that were used regularly. The lowest level, with its bay windows overlooking the valley had been intended for entertaining. It had been built to please her mother, who hadn’t stayed very long.

She considered going down but knew she had a much better chance of seeing Jake right here in the kitchen, since this was where he would come when his chores were done. Martha gratefully accepted her offer of help. Besides dinner preparations, Martha was starting the stew for supper. Emily spent the next hour cleaning and cutting vegetables saved from the fall garden.

She had discovered a few years back that she enjoyed cooking. The warmth of the kitchen and the pleasant smells were very relaxing. She found herself humming as she chopped.

She stopped midphrase when the door opened to admit Christian, Jake and Perry. A cold breeze came in with them, and she shivered. After she and Martha had greeted them all, she discovered Jake’s eyes on her and felt herself warm too quickly. No, it was just the heat from the stove dispelling the chill.

Jake, his eyes still on her, grabbed Christian’s arm. “What’s she doing in the kitchen?” he whispered in awe.

Christian chuckled. “Strange sight, I know.”

“I’m cutting up vegetables for tonight’s stew.” She managed to sound irritated even though they made her want to laugh. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He removed his hat and came slowly toward her. “You’re in the kitchen, Emily. Working.”

She glared at him, aware of an audience. “And?”

He stopped near her, bringing cool air with him. Emily felt it caress her warm cheeks. She hadn’t realized how much heat the stove was putting out until the past few moments.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

She wondered if her face was flushed then realized he was still teasing her about working. “I’ll have you know,” she began, pointing at him with the tip of her knife, “I’ve become quite handy in the kitchen.”

“I’m impressed.” He grinned at her as he shed his coat. Instead of taking it and his hat to the hooks in the back hall, he leaned against the counter beside her. “You even kind of enjoy it, don’t you?”

She returned her attention to the chopping board, giving him a brief nod. When he didn’t move away, she looked up to find him watching her. Christian had left, presumably to hang up his coat, and Perry was helping Martha set the kitchen table for the Rawlins’s meal. She asked softly, “Can I talk to you after dinner?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll take a walk—” She had almost told him the path beyond the barn. That was where she hoped to meet Anson when he came for her. It wouldn’t do for Jake to think of it as her usual place to walk. She suggested the opposite direction. “How about meeting me past your parents’ house?”

“Fine,” he said, and moved away.

She found herself breathing easier when he was gone. She didn’t like deceiving her family, and she didn’t like using Jake. That was why she had felt breathless when he was so close. That and the knowledge that he was attracted to her.

After dinner, Emily donned her cloak and gloves and left the house. Willa had wanted to go with her, and she felt guilty about leaving her, even though it would have been impossible to take her along.

She had tried at first to dissuade the child by telling her it was too cold, but Willa had said she had a warm coat and hat. Next she said she would be walking too far for a little girl, but Willa claimed to have walked miles without getting tired. Finally Lynnette had stepped in, telling her that sometimes grown-ups needed time alone.

She knew the path she followed well enough to walk without much attention to her surroundings and quickly sank deep in thought. Guilt for disappointing the child added to what she already felt and made her miserable. She couldn’t lose courage now. Her family was giving her no choice.

She had to see Anson and tell him what she suspected. To do that, she had to mail his letter. And for that, she needed Jake.

A figure suddenly appeared in the path before her, and she stumbled back, losing her balance. A hand caught her arm, righting her before she fell. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jake.” She sighed with relief. “I didn’t realize I had come so far.”

“You looked pretty distracted.”

His breath made little white clouds in the cold air. He still held her arm; in fact, he had stepped closer. She had been this close to him before, but couldn’t remember ever being quite so aware of him. Her stomach shivered, from the cold, she tried to tell herself, or from recently being startled. She should step away, pull herself together.

Instead she looked up into his eyes. It was a mistake. They burned into her, seared her to the core with their heat. She gasped as her body reacted.

His eyes softened immediately. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, stepping away. Of course she wasn’t all right. Nothing was all right. She wanted to scream at him for making her feel this way, but that would hardly suit her purpose.

She gave him a smile that she hoped looked shy—she didn’t dare try seductive—and said, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Then ask.” His voice was so kind she felt a new rush of guilt. She had a fleeting thought that she had never heard Anson’s voice sound like that, and quickly brushed it away.

“I have a letter I need you to post for me.”

Suspicion was easy to read in his narrowed eyes. “Why ask me? Why not your brother or whoever’s going into town?”

“Please, Jake, none of them will do it.” Quickly, before he said no, she turned around, opened her cloak and retrieved the letter from her bodice. “Here.” She heard the uncertainty and pleading in her own voice.

“Emily.” There was a plea in his voice, as well. “Don’t ask me to do this.” He closed her cloak, rebuttoning it against the cold she had barely been aware of. “Your family doesn’t want you to contact him. I don’t want you to contact him.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge him.” She thrust the letter toward him, hoping once he took it in his hand he would give in.

“I tried not to. I want the best for you, Emily. I just can’t believe he’s the best.”

“How is it your place to decide what’s best for me?” She was failing. He was too stubborn. She felt tears sting her eyes and tried to blink them away. He would think she was using them as a weapon.

“You’re right.” He lifted the letter from her fingers. “Friends need to trust each other. And count on each other. I’ll mail your letter.”

“Jake.” She threw her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. “I knew I could count on you,” she murmured.

His arms encircled her, holding her closer. The tears she had held back earlier trickled down her cheek. She was warm and safe in his arms and reluctant to leave them.

Finally he drew her away. She quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks and smiled up at him. “Thanks, Jake,” she whispered.

He nodded solemnly. She thought for a moment that he would say something, but he slipped the letter into his coat pocket, stepped around her and walked away.

Jake walked into his parents’ home, knowing it was empty. His mother would be busy at the Prescotts’ until well after supper. If his father finished whatever Christian needed him to do this afternoon, he would be more likely to spend his free time with his wife in the big house than to come back here. No, he would be alone, and that suited him.

The house was dim, but he didn’t light a lamp. He stood across the room from the front window and watched for Emily to walk past. He should have taken her arm and seen her safely to her door. He should still do it.

But he couldn’t He didn’t trust himself to be that close to her. He was liable to take her into his arms and tell her he loved her. He had come too damn close already.

He saw her pass on the path, her head down, walking fast. She would be safe and warm in no time. He didn’t have to feel guilty. He took a step closer to the window, then another, to watch her until she was out of sight.

Why did he let her do this to him? He should thoroughly dislike her for falling for that jailbird, for defying her parents, for using him.

For not wanting the love he was so willing to give her.

He was a fool. It was that simple and too late to change.

He unbuttoned his coat but didn’t take it off. The room was cold, and he didn’t want to light a fire. He wouldn’t stay here long. He pulled the letter from his pocket and studied the clear, even lettering. Anson Berkeley. He wanted to destroy it, not mail it! He wanted to light that fire after all and watch the letter turn to ashes!

The violence of his reaction horrified him. He didn’t trust himself to hold on to the letter for long. He shoved it back into his pocket and rebuttoned his coat. If he left now he could make it back before dark.

Half an hour later he was riding toward town. It hadn’t been hard to convince his father that he needed to check in with his boss in Cottonwood Falls. It was an excuse he had used many times to avoid being on the ranch when Emily was expected. His mother might have been more difficult to convince, but he had left her to his father.

The cold crisp air in his face as he rode cleared his mind. He had started to harbor hopes about Emily again. The letter was a reminder that she would never be his. His purpose wasn’t to win her away from Berkeley but to protect her from him. He couldn’t do that if his mind was clouded with fantasies.

Of course, mailing this letter wasn’t a particularly good way of protecting her, either. He should never have agreed to do it. But perhaps Berkeley would get the letter and not respond. Perhaps he had already forgotten her.

Perhaps. But it wasn’t likely. This letter would probably encourage him. It might be the one thing he needed to send him out after Emily. Thank heaven, the man was in jail.

It was midafternoon when Jake rode into Strong. He posted the letter first, afraid that any delay might cause him to accidentally lose the letter. Then, still convinced he had done the wrong thing, he rode on to the river bridge and into Cottonwood Falls.

The courthouse, situated at the end of the main street, dominated the town. He rode toward it, taking in the activity on either side of him out of habit. He watered his horse at the trough before tying him and going inside.

Sheriff Tom Chaffee was in his office in the basement. He looked up from his cluttered desk when Jake walked in. “Afternoon, son. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“I know,” Jake said, taking a seat across from his boss. “I was in town and thought I’d see if you have any word from Topeka.” Tom would know what particular news he was after.

Tom winced. “You’re not going to like this.”

Jake tried to keep his face from showing his alarm. “What?”

The spring in Tom’s chair squeaked as he rocked back. “The boy’s out. Seems his folks paid for all the damages, and the old fella agreed to drop the charges.”

“When did this happen?”

Tom took a moment before he answered. “I got word last night.”

Jake felt his temper rise and knew it was unreasonable. He hoped his boss couldn’t sense how he felt.

Tom’s next words made him think he could. “I’m a little shorthanded here to be sending someone out to the ranch with messages. Besides, you’re supposed to be on vacation, and this case is way out of our jurisdiction.”

”The police will let us know if anything else happens, won’t they?”

Tom brought his chair back to an upright position and bent over his desk. “I’m sure the Prescotts will let their son know if anything else happens.” He found his place on the form and resumed writing.

Jake had been dismissed. He rose slowly and turned toward the door.

“Oh, and Jake?”

Jake turned back. “Yes, sir?”

Tom didn’t look up. “Maybe you should concentrate on winning the little gal’s affection and forget about the competition.”

Jake paused, looking at his boss’s bent head for the space of four heartbeats. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left the office. He took the stairs two at a time, imagining his boss having a good chuckle at his expense once he was out of earshot. He shouldn’t be surprised that Tom had guessed his real interest in the case. Loyalty to the Prescott family wouldn’t be enough to make him quite so eager to see Berkeley punished.

He walked into the fresh, cold air, trying to will his frustration away. He shouldn’t expect the sheriff to send someone all the way out to the ranch at the slightest word on the case. Emily probably wasn’t in any immediate danger from Berkeley, anyway.

At least not until he got her letter.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He strode to his horse and mounted. All the way back through Cottonwood Falls, and across the bridge, he argued with himself. Should he try to get the letter back from the postmaster? If he did, what would he tell Emily? In the end, Emily’s trust won, and he rode past the post office and out of Strong.

Chapter Three

Jake found Christian alone in the barn when he returned to the ranch. As he rubbed down his horse, he told his former boss what the sheriff had reported.

Christian stood silently for a long time. Jake was careful to keep his face turned away. The older man had been alternately big brother, mentor and boss to him. He was afraid his feelings for Emily would be at least as easy for her brother to read as they had been for the sheriff.

“I guess I’m not surprised,” Christian finally said, “considering everything my folks have said about his family. I just hope he doesn’t find Emily.”

Jake closed his eyes, trying to block the pain. He ought to warn Christian about the letter, but that would betray Emily’s trust. Or was he simply unwilling to accept the blame for his part in sending it. He hoped it was the former.

“I’m betting he’ll come for her,” Jake said.

“Why?” The question was sharp with speculation.

Jake’s hand stilled on the horse’s flank. “Because I would.”

Christian laughed. “Don’t use your own sense of honor to guess this fella’s behavior. Chances are he was out celebrating with someone else the first night he was out of jail.”

“The first night who was out of jail?”

At the sound of Emily’s voice, Jake spun around. The movement momentarily startled the horse. By the time he had him calmed again, Christian had moved to his sister’s side. Jake joined him slowly, waiting for the older man to speak.

“What are you doing out in the cold, muffin?”

Emily ignored the question and turned instead to Jake. “Was he talking about Anson?” she asked.

The dark brown eyes glaring at him made it impossible to lie. He cast Christian a glance before he nodded.

She turned to her brother. “When would you have told me?” There was enough accusation in the tone for Jake to guess she was asking “if” rather than “when.”

“Tonight,” Christian said quietly. “As soon as I got in.”

“Then it’s fine,” Emily said. “He’s out because he’s innocent of the charges.”

Christian shook his head. “His parents paid off the victim.”

“That’s ridiculous. Even if his parents paid the damages they wouldn’t drop the charges unless he was innocent.”

“You’re not being reasonable, Em,” Christian said.

“You’re not being fair!”

Jake watched the exchange from a distance. After the initial question she seemed unaware of his presence. She tried to stare her brother down, but Christian was too confident. After a long moment she spun on her heel and left the barn.

He watched after her, wishing he could offer her something—comfort, understanding, anything. The problem was he completely agreed with her brother, and she knew it.

He finally remembered the grooming brush in his hand. He turned back to the horse only to discover Christian’s appraising eyes on him.

“You really think he’ll come for her?” Christian asked.

“Yes, sir. Or she’ll go to him.”

“Why is she so stubborn? Why can’t she see what he’s really like?”

Jake didn’t think Christian expected answers, but he responded anyway. “She’s stubborn because she’s who she is. We wouldn’t want her any other way. And maybe we’re the ones who don’t know what he’s really like.”

“You’re taking her side?”

Jake shook his head. “I said maybe. But why should she listen to us when we’ve never met him? He’s the only one who’s going to convince her, and he’ll hurt her in the process.”

Christian was silent, and Jake finished caring for his horse. When he left the stall, he found Christian still waiting. “Help me watch her,” Christian said. “She trusts you more than me, right now. Don’t let him take her away where I’ll never see her again.”

Jake considered just how much he should tell his friend. Finally he answered softly. “That’s why I’m here.”

Emily knew it was panic that made her so sharp with her brother and shame that kept her from looking Jake in the eye. Neither of them were to blame for her predicament, and Jake had even tried to help.

She sat on her bed in her room, staring at the moonlight that filtered through the curtains. It was funny how quickly she went from irritated to furious these days. Or from disappointed to fighting tears. She had heard that expectant mothers were emotional; she had witnessed it to a small degree in Lynnette. But it wasn’t proof, she told herself. The strain of worry could have the same effect. And worry could make her feel sick to her stomach.

She lowered her head to her hands. By the time she knew for certain, it would be too late to marry discreetly. Anyone who could count would know that she had fallen.

She sat up straight again, taking a deep breath. Anson would come for her. He loved her. She refused to believe anything else. Her hands shook and she clutched them in her lap. She needed sleep, for herself and for her baby if there was one. All she needed was a good night’s sleep, and she would be fine.

After a light breakfast the next morning, Emily bundled up to take a walk. She knew it was too early for Anson to have gotten her letter and come to meet her, but she decided it would be good to establish a habit of walking every day to avoid arousing anyone’s suspicion.

Martha had been alone in the kitchen when she had gotten a slice of toast, and she assumed Lynnette and the children were downstairs. She was happy to slip out the back door without having to tell Willa she couldn’t go along.

She headed toward the trail on the far side of the barn and suddenly found Jake walking beside her.

“Good morning,” he said, as if there hadn’t been a sharp word uttered the night before. “Mind if I join you?”

“Well, actually—”

“It’s a pretty day for a stroll. Cold but sunny. Are you warm enough?”

“I’m fine. But I really—”

“Good. We wouldn’t want you getting chilled. Don’t you miss these wide-open spaces when you’re in town? I know I do.”

Emily gritted her teeth. He had taken her arm and was walking slowly beside her as if he were her escort. “No,” she said. “What I miss is the solitude.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I never figured you for someone who wanted to be alone a lot. But the country’s good for that, too.”

He was being deliberately obtuse. The only way to get rid of him would be to flat tell him to leave. Of course with Jake, even that might not work.

“I’d like to be alone now, if you don’t mind,” she said. His fingers tightened on her arm when she tried to pull it free.

“We are alone, sweetheart.” His voice was low, almost a seductive whisper.

“Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he said, continuing to walk beside her. “I know. But you might get lost…”

Emily pointed ahead at the path that wrapped around the hill. It was white where the thin soil had worn away from the limestone and stood out in sharp contrast to the brown and gold grass. “I’m not going to get lost!”

“Or fall and turn your ankle,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I wouldn’t get anything done for worrying so I might as well come along.”

Emily had to laugh. She wasn’t sure if it was at him or at herself. Well, he could come today, since there was no chance that Anson was waiting. She would have to figure out some way to elude him in the future. Or perhaps he would get used to seeing her walking every day and stop playing the big brother.

“There’s another thing I’ve missed,” he said. “Your laugh.”

“Don’t go getting serious on me, Jake. I get enough of that from everybody else. Little lost Emily who needs to be straightened out.”

“You’ve got a deal. I promise never to be serious.”

If she had hurt his feelings, she couldn’t hear it in his voice. He walked on at the same slow pace, his hand lightly holding her arm. She was about to venture a look at his face when she heard him chuckle. “What?”

“I was just remembering when you were little and came for the summer. Your pa and brothers in the mansion, me and my pa in the little house with Ma the only woman on the place. You turned everybody on his ear. The first time, you were a little bitty thing, about like Willa. Ma wanted you to stay with us. She was sure you’d miss your ma in the night and none of the men up here would know what to do for you. She had Arlen convinced right away, almost convinced your pa. But Christian wouldn’t hear of it. He barely let you out of his sight.”

Emily watched the prairie grasses nod in the light breeze. “You were what, about nine? What did you think of the idea?”

“Oh, I was against it. I figured you were a baby, and I didn’t want some baby crying in the night, waking me up. I kept my mouth shut though, and let Christian do the arguing. After it was settled, and it was safe, I told Ma it had been a fine idea, and I was real sorry you wouldn’t be with us.”

Emily laughed. “You always knew how to get around your ma.”

“Not as well as you could get around Christian. I swear! You would talk me into something, and I’d be in trouble. Do you remember the boat we were going to sail down that stream down there?” He pointed to the valley below where a narrow creek reflected the blue of the sky.

“Oh, Lord. I almost drowned.”

“You didn’t almost drown.” He stopped and turned to face her, his hands on his hips. She choked back a giggle. “You convinced Christian that you had almost drowned so he’d let you off the hook. You know, I missed a trip to town because of your harebrained scheme.”

“If it was so harebrained,” she asked with mock exasperation, “how come you went along with it?”

“Well,” he said, turning to walk at her side again. “I didn’t know it was harebrained until the boat sank. I really thought I could build a boat. I didn’t see how it could be so hard.”

Emily, still smiling, rested her head against his shoulder as she walked. “Dear Jake. You took the blame for other things, too, didn’t you? Like the Indian-war-paint incident and riding the sled down the icehouse roof?”

“Now that one scared me.”

“And then there was the great wilderness adventure.”

Jake groaned. “I’d forgotten that one. We thought if we walked west for a couple days we’d be in the California goldfields. Never mind that we were about twenty years late.”

“I pictured great cornfields growing gold. That’s why I stole Christian’s knife, so I could cut it.”

“Telling Christian that you said you knew the way didn’t seem to keep me out of trouble.”

“Jake, you must have been twelve or thirteen. You should have known better.”

He turned toward her again, all but taking her in his arms. No, it was just her imagination. He was only resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. “That’s just it, Emily,” he said. “I did know better. I always knew better—or usually, anyway. But you could convince me of anything. Emily—”

She took a step away. “You promised not to get serious.”

He smiled then, more tender than teasing. “You’re right. Are you ready to go back?”

“Yes, I think so,” she said.

He was quiet all the way home. Emily found herself lost in memories of their shared childhood. There had always been a gentleness about Jake she hadn’t truly appreciated as a girl. She was lucky to have such a friend.

He took her to the kitchen door instead of the back door where the coats were hung. “It’s warmer in here,” he said. Once inside, he took her cloak and gloves and turned her over to his mother, who recommended a cup of hot tea.

Emily warmed herself near the kitchen stove while she waited for the water to boil. She found herself wishing Jake would hang up the coats and return to share the tea with her, but he didn’t. He must have gone back outside to resume whatever chores he had interrupted for their walk. It was difficult to explain her disappointment. Perhaps he distracted her, kept her from dwelling on her worries, kept her from missing Anson.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Christian made no more reference to Anson than Jake had. Trevor was still shy of Emily, though he let her hold him and feed him for a little while. Willa declared the noodles Martha had fixed her favorite and was so busy eating she was noticeably less talkative. Christian and Lynnette talked and teased each other, making Emily feel even more lonely.

Escaping before dessert, she sat on her bed and stared across the room without seeing it. This place, with its memories and its laughter conspired to confuse her. Things had been so much clearer in town. There she knew she loved Anson and he loved her. They were meant to be together. Her parents were the enemy, keeping her from happiness.

Here, so far from Anson, her love—and his—were less certain. Their chances of having a future like Christian and Lynnette seemed remote. Anson wasn’t much like Christian. But then, she wasn’t just like Lynnette, either. They would find their own way, their own life.

Somehow, even to herself, the argument seemed weak. She felt tears spring to her eyes and brushed them away. Tears, there always seemed to be tears! And often at the oddest times. Holding Trevor did it the fastest.

Things had to work out with Anson. What would become of her if they didn’t? She rested a hand on her belly and swallowed the lump in her throat. If Anson didn’t come for her, she would have to go away alone. She would be too ashamed to face her family and too afraid they might make her give the baby away.

She wished there was someone she could talk to, someone who wouldn’t condemn her. She had come close to confiding in Rose who had been her best friend for so long. But Rose was married to Arlen, and he was worse than her mother when it came to propriety. He would have her packed off to a maternity home and spread the lie that she was on some European tour. A sister with a bastard could hurt his political career.

Lynnette was her next choice. She would be understanding at least. And so would Christian, maybe. But what help could she really expect from them? They couldn’t tell her how to magically make the baby go away, how to magically undo the past.

You’ve made your bed and now you have to sleep in it, had a whole new meaning now. She felt another tear threaten and brushed at it angrily. She hated feeling sorry for herself! She had no patience for it in other people. She would survive. She would be a good mother to her child, with or without its father.

But, she told herself sternly, there wasn’t any danger of that. Anson would come for her. They would be married. When her family saw how happy they were, they would relent and welcome her back. She tried to picture her family gathered at Christmas, her parents, her brothers and their wives, Christian’s children, her own baby toddling around. It was easy.

But putting Anson in the picture proved difficult. She couldn’t imagine him sitting with her brothers and finding anything to say to them. She couldn’t imagine him helping with the decorations, singing carols, playing with the children.

She shook her head to dispel the thoughts. She was setting limits on him, and it wasn’t fair. More than likely he would fit right in. She would just know a more exciting side of him that her family would only guess at. She smiled to herself and wondered if it was forced.

A tap on the door startled her. “Are you sleeping?”

Emily had never been so glad to hear Willa’s loud whisper. She ran to the door and opened it.

Willa flounced in and threw herself across the bed, her short full skirt billowing for a second to reveal a tear in her stocking. “I can’t stand another minute in the nursery!” she exclaimed.

Emily held back a laugh. “What’s so awful about the nursery?”

“Everything! Trevor’s such a baby. I don’t have any place for just me. Sometimes girls need time alone, you know. Can I stay here with you?”

Emily watched the little girl throw her arm across her forehead dramatically, a gesture she had probably learned from her Aunt Rose. Willa was just what she needed to distract her from her worries.

But only for one night. Sometime soon she would be running away with Anson. She couldn’t afford to lose her privacy.

She cleared her throat. “Willa, dear, how about being my sleepover friend tonight?” At the little girl’s eager reaction she added, “Just tonight, mind you. We’ll make a party of it.”

Willa sat up quickly. “Honest? Shall I run and ask Mama?”

“No. Let her write while your brother’s asleep. We can ask her later. I’m sure she won’t mind.” Emily sat down on the bed, and Willa scooted over next to her. “What do you want to do when you sleep over?”

Emily was trying to think of what games a five-year-old might like to play when Willa came up with a suggestion. “We can write love letters to our boyfriends.” She quickly stifled a giggle behind her cupped hands.

“Boyfriends? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“We can make one up,” she suggested with another giggle. “Or I could write mine to Jake.”

“Jake!” Emily eyed the child. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”

Willa shrugged. “Papa’s older than Mama.”

“Not twenty years older!”

Willa shrugged her shoulders until they touched her ears. “But he’s so-o-o-o handsome. And so-o-o-o strong. He can lift me onto a horse like that.” She tried to snap her fingers.

“Anybody can lift you onto a horse,” Emily argued. “You’re a little girl.”

Willa thrust out her chin. “But Jake does it better than anybody else. Even Papa.”

Emily eyed the little girl sternly, but she felt her lips twitch with a smile. In a moment they were laughing in each other’s arms. “All right,” Emily said finally. “We’ll write love letters tonight. What do you want to do now? Shall we see about making those cookies we never got around to the other day?”

“Cookies!” Willa cried, jumping off the bed. She quickly covered her mouth then whispered loudly, “Trevor’s sleeping.”

Willa remembered to whisper all the way down the stairs. In the kitchen, she tugged Emily’s hand and pointed. Jake was cleaning the ashes out of the stove.

He looked up at the little girl’s giggle. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said.

Willa ran to Martha but gave Jake a sidelong glance before asking permission to make cookies. Emily intended to follow Willa but found herself walking toward Jake instead.

“Don’t come too close,” he said. “You’ll get ashes on your dress.” She stopped a few feet away. She couldn’t help thinking of Willa’s description as she watched him work.

“What were you two giggling about?” he asked.

“I wasn’t giggling.”

“I thought I heard two distinct giggles.”

“No. Only one. And it’s girl stuff. Secret.” The last she said in Willa’s exaggerated whisper.

“Oh,” he whispered back.

Willa joined them with her lower lip sticking out a good half inch. “Martha says we can’t bake cookies ‘cause she’s gonna make Christmas stuff.”

“Maybe we can help her with the Christmas baking,” Emily suggested.

Willa shook her head sadly. “She says it’s candy, and it’s too hot for me to help. What are we going to do?”

Emily couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s sense of tragedy. “I don’t know,” she lamented.

“How about going riding with me?” Jake asked.

“Can we, Aunt Emily? Can we, can we?”

Emily bobbed her head, following the bouncing girl’s movements.

“She says yes,” Willa told Jake, tugging on Emily’s hand. “Let’s go change.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Emily corrected, allowing herself to be dragged from the room.

“You nodded.”

A few minutes later, Emily stepped from her room, dressed in a divided skirt, and found Willa in homemade pants waiting for her. They went quickly down the stairs and headed for the back hall to get their coats.

Jake met them there. “You won’t need more than jackets,” he said. “It’s warmed up some since this morning.”

Willa found what she wanted to wear, and Emily helped her into it and her gloves. “All I have is my cloak,” she said. “Perhaps I could borrow something.” She studied the row of coats, trying to pick something the right weight.

“This one’s mine,” Jake said, grabbing a flannel-lined jacket. “I left it here last fall.”

For some unknown reason, Emily wanted to refuse it. But she could think of no reason, and Willa was obviously in a hurry. She drew on the jacket as she followed the others outside.

Jake was right, it was surprisingly warm for December. Christian and Perry had saddled the horses, and her brother helped her mount as Jake lifted Willa into the saddle. The little girl tossed her a smug grin as Jake mounted.

“Watch her close,” Christian said to Jake before they started off. He was referring, of course, to his little daughter.

Jake led them down the path they had followed that morning. He stayed so close to Willa that Emily soon fell back to watch them. Jake took Christian’s admonition very seriously. When Willa leaned down to scratch her ankle, his hand shot out to steady her.

Emily had to smile. Her talkative little niece was unusually shy. Yet she wanted to compose a pretend love letter to him that evening. At least Emily thought it was pretend. Of course, if the little girl actually delivered the letter, Jake would be nice about it. She couldn’t imagine him ever doing anything that would hurt anybody.

She felt the most peculiar stab of jealousy, which she quickly shrugged off. She took a deep breath of the crisp cool air. It had been months since she had ridden. It had always been a favorite activity on the ranch in the summer. She leaned forward to pat the gelding’s neck.

Ahead, Jake pointed something out to Willa, who nodded when she saw it. It was odd, Emily thought. When she wanted to be alone, Jake or Willa interrupted. When she wanted a diversion, like now, she found herself alone. Or nearly so. Her companions seemed to have forgotten she was along.

She was now quite certain she was increasing. Her flow was two weeks late, and she had always been regular. The bouts of stomach upset and moments of fatigue were more frequent.

She needed Anson. She needed to be married to Anson. Disloyal as it was, she wanted him less and less. If it wasn’t for the baby, she wouldn’t be particularly disappointed if she never heard from him again.

If it wasn’t for the baby. That seemed to preface all her confused thoughts. If it wasn’t for the baby, she could pretend this was a happy visit instead of a banishment. She could comfort her little nephew without tears coming to her eyes. She could write her parents that she knew she had been wrong and ask their forgiveness.

She could flirt with Jake.

She shook her head to clear it. Where had that thought come from? Willa, probably. She had been watching her ride beside her strong and handsome Jake, noting how the girl’s shy smiles were an innocent form of flirting.

Maybe the baby affected her mind as well as her stomach. She had no interest in Jake except as a friend. She decided she couldn’t trust herself to be alone with her thoughts. That bit of illogical whimsy made her want to laugh aloud. That would convince her companions that she had gone crazy. She imagined them looking at her pityingly and wanted to laugh even more.

She kicked her mount to ride closer behind the other two, hoping to get in on their conversation. Before she really did drive herself crazy.

After the ride, Willa ran to tell her mother that she was going to spend the night with Emily. She was restless all through supper, wanting to get started with what she was calling her party. She insisted that her mother help her wash and get ready for bed as soon as the meal was over.

Emily went to her room to prepare for bed herself and get the pen and paper ready. She was starting to look forward to hearing Willa’s idea of a love letter. An invitation to help her look for frogs, maybe. Or a promise to make him a special heart-shaped cookie.

It wasn’t long before she heard a knock on the door and the little girl bounded in, her hair flying around her shoulders.

“Don’t you want your daddy to braid your hair before bed?” Emily asked, smiling at the eager face.

“I want you to do it,” she said, climbing up on the bed to sit cross-legged in the center.

Emily grabbed a brush and a ribbon and crawled up behind her. “Did you know your daddy used to braid my hair every night?”

Willa shook her head. “Why didn’t your own daddy?”

Emily laughed. She pulled the brush through the fine blond hair. “Most daddies don’t braid little girl’s hair. Usually it’s mama’s job. But when I was little and came to stay on the ranch, my mama wasn’t here, so your daddy braided my hair.”

“But at sleep-over parties, we do each other’s. And yours is already done.”

“Sorry, I should have waited,” she said, making short work of the girl’s shoulder-length hair and tying it with the ribbon.

“That’s all right. I don’t know how anyway. When do we write our letters?” Willa asked.

“Let’s do it right away,” Emily said eagerly. “You want to write yours first, or shall I?”

“Me, me!” she cried bouncing on the bed. “You write just what I say.”

“All right.” Emily slid off the bed and took a seat at the desk. Willa crawled around on the bed, a childish version of pacing. “Shall I start with ‘Dear Jake’?”

“No,” Willa responded, stopping to stand on her knees and press her hands over her heart. “‘My darling Jake.’ No wait, ‘My own darling Jake.’ Write that.”

Emily dipped the pen in ink and bent over the page. “Does your mother read her stories to you?”

“No,” responded Willa, missing Emily’s grin. “Tell him I think he’s the most handsome man in the world.”

Emily smiled. “‘Most handsome man in the world.’ What else?”

“‘The bravest and the strongest.’” Willa said the words slowly, allowing Emily time to write. “And I want him to kiss me.” The instant she said it, she threw both hands over her mouth, gulping back a giggle.

“Do you really?” Emily teased.

She shook her head vigorously. “Don’t write that What if he really did?” She grimaced.

“Are we going to send this letter?”

Willa thought for a moment. “No. That way I can tell him everything.” She took a deep breath. “‘Your eyes are like the sky.’”

“His eyes are green,” Emily corrected.

“They are? All right. ‘Your eyes are like the…grass. Your smile is like sunshine. Your kiss is like honey.’”

“Now, how would you know?”

Willa giggled. “Put it down. ‘Your strong arms could carry me away.’” She threw herself backward onto the bed.

“Where did you get this stuff?” Emily quickly scratched down what the little girl had said.

“I spent a week with Aunt Rose. She writes poetry out loud when she thinks she’s alone.”

“Writes it out loud, huh?”

“Yeah. Some of it’s real romantic.”

“And she’s married to Arlen.”

Both girls giggled at that.

Emily drew Willa’s attention back to the letter. “How do you want to end it?”

Willa thought for a moment. “How about, ‘Your only love, Willa.’”

“Great,” Emily said. When she was finished, she closed the ink bottle and wiped the pen.

“Aren’t you going to write one now?” Willa sounded disappointed.

“I don’t think so. How about I tell you a story, instead.”

“I wanted to know what you would write to a boyfriend.” She stuck her lower lip out and squinted her eyes.

Emily rose from the chair and put out the lamp. “How about we curl up in bed, and I’ll tell you what I would write.”

“Pretend like you’re writing to Jake,” Willa said, crawling under the quilt.

“Jake?”

“Yeah. Tell me what you would write about Jake.”

Emily climbed into bed beside Willa. She tried to go along with the child’s game, but the images of Jake that it conjured up made her somehow more lonely. She worked to turn the discussion to other things.

When she finally succeeded, the little girl fell asleep. Emily lay awake, unable to get the images out of her mind. Jake’s eyes, voice, lips, height and muscles had all been discussed. Though they had left out his gentleness, kindness, and sense of humor.

She groaned and rolled to her side. Typical, she thought. Now would be the perfect time for the little girl to chatter endlessly about nothing in particular. But now she was asleep.

The next day Emily noticed a repeat of what she came to think of as her predicament. Always when she sought solitude, Jake or Willa or even Trevor intruded. When she needed company to dispel her somber thoughts, everyone else was occupied. She began to wonder if she really knew which she wanted or if she simply longed for one whenever she had the other. The paradox, she decided, completely described the confused state of her mind.

And the silly letter sat on her desk. She kept forgetting to ask Willa what she wanted her to do with it. And she couldn’t quite bring herself to throw it away.

Jake leaned against the barn door, waiting for Emily to make her appearance. The past two days she had gone for a walk as soon as the sun was high in the sky, and he had joined her, though it was beginning to feel like torture. He had watched her grow more and more melancholy, pining for her love. Every time she got that faraway look in her eyes, he felt a pain acute enough that it nearly buckled his knees.

She left the shelter of the house, her cloak so securely wrapped around her she might have been hard for someone else to recognize. But he knew that step, that particular sway of her body as she closed the door, the tilt of her head, even under the hood, as she set off toward the path.

As she approached, he stepped from the shadow of the barn. “Good morning, Emily,” he said.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “I don’t want company this morning,” she said.

“How unusual,” he quipped. She never wanted his company. “Do we take the high road or the low road today?”

“Why don’t you go that way,” she said, motioning toward her left. “I’ll go this way. We can meet back here before dinner.”

He grinned at her, but it only made her grit her teeth. “Come on. I’m not that bad company, am I?”

She took a deep breath as if fighting her temper. “It’s not you, Jake. I simply want to be alone. Please respect that.”

There was a bite to her words that sobered him. “Emily, we walk together every morning. Why make a fuss about it?”

“Because I don’t want you along. I’ve never wanted you along.” The hood slipped from her head as she stomped a small foot on the hard-packed ground. “I don’t need another shadow!”

Jake stood stunned as she whirled past him. For a moment, he considered following her. Then he turned and walked slowly toward the barn. His pa would appreciate his help with the chores. And he would keep an eye out for Emily’s return.

Chapter Four

Emily headed out for a walk for the second time without Jake. She felt guilty about screaming at him the day before, but it couldn’t be helped. There didn’t seem to be any other way for him to get the message, and she couldn’t let him continue to walk with her. What if Anson was waiting for her but unable to show himself because Jake was along?

She hadn’t seen Jake since the fight, and, though she couldn’t apologize without running the risk of him expecting to walk with her again, she found herself missing him. The thought made her smile. How could she miss someone so annoying?

She was caught up in thoughts of Jake and neared the bend in the path with some surprise that she had come so far. Perhaps when she got back she should seek Jake out, suggest something else for them to do during the afternoon.

A tall figure stepped from cover into the path in front of her. She took a startled step backward. For one instant she thought Jake had gone ahead of her to avoid any argument about coming along.

But the thought fled. “Anson?” He was thinner than she remembered him. And paler. She stood rooted to the spot staring at him.

“You’re surprised to see me,” he said, coming toward her, his blue-gray eyes hard. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Of course not,” she said, recovering. “I just didn’t know if you would really come.”

His eyes softened, and he enfolded her in his arms. “Oh, sweet child. Did you think I would abandon you? After you sent such a loving letter, how could I? I came as soon as I could.”

His arms around her seemed familiar and strange at the same time. This was Anson, her baby’s father. Everything would be all right.

“Are we leaving together?” she asked. She found herself afraid of the answer, whichever it might be.

“Tonight,” he said, drawing her away. “Can you sneak back out here with some food? We can make our plans then.”

“I don’t know. I’ll try but—” She had almost said Jake! “They watch me pretty close.”

“All right,” he said, leading her to a rock where they could sit. “I’ll tell you the plan now, just in case. As soon as it’s dark, and everyone else is asleep, meet me here. You’ll need a horse, one bag of clothes, some food and some money.”

“One bag?” She had waited so long for this, but now that it was happening she felt a need to stall.

“One bag. We’re going to take the train back as far as Emporia. There we can change to the Missouri, Kansas and Texas. We might not have much time to change trains. At Junction City we’ll get on the Kansas Pacific, and it’ll take us all the way to Denver.”

“Denver?” What were they going to do there?

“We’ll need money,” he said. “Get as much as you can.”

“You mean steal from Christian?”

“Emily,” he said gently, drawing her closer to his side. “They’ve forced us to this. It isn’t the way either of us want it, but it’s the only way we can be together.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting it go. “Besides, they wouldn’t want you to go hungry, would they?”

Emily shook her head. It was happening too fast. Yet a day ago she had thought it couldn’t happen soon enough. She looked up at the handsome face, and he smiled down at her. There was no glint of mischief in his eyes; they looked…secretive. He had his doubts about running away, as well. But, as he had said, it was the only way they could be together. She loved him more, knowing he was as uncertain as she.

He bent and kissed her quickly. “Go back now, before they miss you. Come back with food if you can.”

Jake saddled his horse in preparation for riding into town. It was midaftemoon, and he planned to spend the night at home and ride back to the ranch early in the morning.

He hated to leave Emily, though he had long since realized he was no real comfort to her. Still, the mornings when he had joined her for her walk, he imagined his presence gave her courage. Yesterday, however, had ended that pretense. She didn’t need another shadow.

This morning he had watched for her to leave the house and waited impatiently while she was gone. She hadn’t once looked toward the barn where he waited.

Shadow, he thought as he swung into the saddle. That pretty well described what he was to her. Something present but barely noticed, insignificant. Useless.

Well, he would make himself useful elsewhere. He would ask his boss for any word from Topeka. And, though he would leave her alone for a time, he would hurry back to be her shadow again.

Emily was certain there was no chance of sneaking food out to Anson before dark. She knew she should try to think of a way, but how would she explain a second walk to Jake? It would be impossible to slip past him.

Wrapped in a shawl, she took refuge on her balcony. It looked down on the valley that dropped below the front of the house, the side away from the barnyard. Here, she had thought herself safe from any reminders of Willa’s perfect Jake.

Why did the little girl have to call all his attributes to her attention? She had been content to think of him as her childhood friend, the boy who had teased her, argued with her, gotten into trouble for her.

Yesterday morning she had yelled at him. She was leaving tonight and would probably never speak to him again. She could hardly imagine it.

Somehow, years from now, she would come back and see her family. It hurt to think that her niece and nephew would grow up without her, but she would see them again.

But Jake? Where would he be by the time she was able to return? Would he be married?

She shook away the foolish thought. She would be married. And a mother. Her ties to Jake were from her childhood, nothing more. Still she regretted that her last words to him had been in anger.

She felt a sudden chill and wrapped the shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She would find him this afternoon, talk and tease, end things on a more comfortable note. She could even apologize to him now, since she would be gone by tomorrow.

The sound of a horse’s hooves caught her attention. She leaned over the balcony to look below her and watched Jake canter past. Had his vacation been brought to a sudden end for some reason? Would he be back before Christmas? Or was he leaving because he was tired of her moody responses to his offers of friendship?

With a sigh, she turned back into her room. It was foolish to think she had that much effect on Jake. It didn’t matter anyway. Any chance of settling things with him was gone now. She needed to put him out of her mind and think about her future.

Anson was the one she should be thinking of. With Jake gone there was a much better chance of getting food to Anson. He was probably starving.

The kitchen was empty when she arrived. She hurried to throw together some bread and meat left from the noon meal, knowing Martha could arrive at any moment to begin supper preparations.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she left the kitchen with the cloth-wrapped lunch tucked under her arm. She donned her cloak and concealed the bundle beneath it. She said a silent prayer that Christian wouldn’t be watching before she opened the back door and stepped outside.

No one hailed her as she walked past the barn, trying her best to look as if she were going for another of her frequent walks. Still her heart was pounding by the time the barn was safely behind her.

Anson wasn’t where she had met him that morning. Unwilling to call out for fear her voice would carry, she looked carefully around her. The thought that he had left without her didn’t fill her with as much panic as she knew it should.

But he hadn’t left. She saw his horse near the stream in the valley below and carefully made her way toward it. Anson slept in the sun a short distance away and woke with a start as she approached.

“I brought some food,” she gasped before catching her breath.

“Good girl.”

He made no move to rise but reached out a hand toward her. She removed the bundle from where she had tied it at her waist and took it to him.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.