A Family Made at Christmas

After taking guardianship of his late friend’s siblings and baby daughter, minister Levi Wallin hopes to atone for his troubled past on the gold fields. But it won’t be easy to convince the children’s wary elder sister to trust him. The more he learns about her, though, the more he believes Callie Murphy’s prickly manner masks a vulnerable heart...one he’s starting to wish he was worthy of.

Every man in Callie’s life chose chasing gold over responsibilities. Levi—and the large, loving Wallin family—might just be different. But she can tell he’s hiding something from her, and she refuses to risk her heart with secrets between them. Even as they grow closer, will their pasts keep them from claiming this unexpected new beginning?

“What about you, Callie? Do you want nothing for yourself?”

Her gaze brushed his, and for a moment Levi thought she’d confess some dream of her own. Then she shrugged as if dismissing it. “You do right by my kin, preacher, and I’ll be satisfied.”

So brave. He might have given another woman a brotherly hug to encourage her, but something told him Callie wouldn’t take kindly to the gesture.

Lord, I thought You sent me here. I thought You were offering me a chance to be the man You want me to be. Give me the words. Help me win her over, for her sake and mine.

“You don’t believe I’ll take care of you all,” he said aloud.

She shrugged as if she didn’t believe much of anything.

He released her shoulders. “I want to help you, Miss Murphy. I want to honor your brother’s wishes.”

She scrubbed at her cheek, but not before he saw the tears that had dampened them. “Adam’s gone. Besides, it wasn’t as if you two were partners.”

Partners. The most sacred of ideals where she came from. And that gave him an inkling of how to proceed.

“We weren’t partners,” he acknowledged. “But you and I might be.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing Levi and Callie’s story. The youngest Wallin brother has finally come into his own. I’m glad he found the right lady to stand by his side. If you missed the other stories about the Wallin brothers, look for Would-Be Wilderness Wife (Drew and Catherine), Frontier Engagement (James and Rina), A Convenient Christmas Wedding (Simon and Nora) and Mail-Order Marriage Promise (John and Dottie).

I smiled when I wrote about Callie throwing her bouquet. It is very like the scene at my own wedding. Most of my friends wanted to remain single at the time, so, when I tossed the bouquet, they punted it into the arms of my flower girl! She is happily married now with two boys of her own, but she did have to wait a decade and more.

I love to connect with readers. Please visit me at my website at www.reginascott.com, where you can also sign up to be alerted when the next book is out.

Blessings!

Regina Scott

REGINA SCOTT has always wanted to be a writer. Since her first book was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages. Fascinated by history, she learned to fence and sail a tall ship. She and her husband reside in Washington State with an overactive Irish terrier. You can find her online, blogging at nineteenteen.com. Learn more about her at reginascott.com or connect with her on Facebook at Facebook.com/authorreginascott.

His Frontier Christmas Family

Regina Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come. The old has gone, the new is here!

—2 Corinthians 5:17

To Kristy J. Manhattan, my fool dream, and to the Lord, for encouraging us to dream beyond ourselves.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Near Seattle, Washington Territory

December 1874

Someone was watching her.

Callie Murphy kept her fingers moving as she pinned another diaper to the clothesline stretching from the cabin to the closest fir tree. She felt as if a gaze was fixed on her back, pressing against the buckskin coat that covered her cotton shirt and trousers. She had to be mistaken.

Her brother Adam had filed for a homestead a good five miles south of Seattle. He’d wanted space and quiet, claiming he was tired of the crowded gold rush camps in which they’d been raised. Mr. Kingerly and his wife lived a mile away, and the kindly older man would walk up to Callie if he wanted her help with something. The last stranger had passed this way months ago.

Still, she couldn’t help glancing around. The one-room cabin stood in the center of the clearing her brother had widened in the forest, but the forest was trying to reclaim it. Already ferns poked up heads along the edges, and blackberry vines, withering with the coming winter, snaked across the dirt. As for the forest beyond, the most movement was a bird flitting from branch to branch.

In the wash basket at her feet, Adam’s daughter blew bubbles, her round face a wreath of smiles. With shiny black curls and big blue eyes, six-month-old Mica reminded Callie of the porcelain-headed baby dolls on display in a Seattle mercantile window, especially around Christmas. The little girl looked far more like her late mother, Anna, than anyone on her father’s side of the family. Every Murphy, including Callie and her little brothers Frisco and Sutter, had hair the color of amber and eyes like slate.

“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,” Callie sang softly, feeling that itch between her shoulder blades that said her watcher was still there. “Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

Mica gurgled her delight, rocking from side to side to the tune.

“And if that mockingbird don’t sing,” Callie continued. “Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

Mica laughed.

Callie shook her head. Who was she to promise diamond rings? That was almost as bad as Pa’s promises, saying he’d strike it rich. Always one more hill to climb, one more creek to pan. Always little to show for months of labor. That was the way of the men she’d met. They either dreamed dreams too big to realize or thought only of themselves.

“If you’re looking to rob us,” she called into the forest, “it’s only fair to tell you we got nothing of worth.”

The forest was still, as if everything was waiting. In defiance, she bent and picked up another diaper, hanging it alongside the others. It didn’t matter who was watching or why. She had one goal: to keep her, Frisco, Sutter and Mica safe until Adam returned. She’d protected her family most of her life, starting with her younger twin brothers after her mother had died of influenza, now with them and Mica. She knew what she was doing.

Still, this feeling was too much like the last time she’d lived on the gold fields, five years ago at the Vital Creek strike in the British Territories. At fifteen then, she’d just started getting her womanly curves. Most of the miners had noticed.

“You don’t strike it rich, Murphy,” one had told her father, “you let me know. I’ll buy your daughter off you.”

Pa had thrown himself at the fellow, and Adam had jumped in right after. That was when she’d started wearing loose clothing, washing and combing her hair less often, keeping her head down and her rifle close.

She almost shuddered at the memory, but she refused to give her watcher the satisfaction of knowing she was nervous, and for good reason. She’d grown complacent in their little hideaway. Her rifle was hanging on its hook over the hearth.

As if she felt the same concern, Mica frowned.

Callie made herself brighten at the baby braced in the wash basket as she retrieved one of the boys’ shirts. “Isn’t it a nice day to hang the clothes, Mica?”

A twig snapped in the woods. Ice raced up her spine. Callie stepped closer to Mica, bent as if to choose another piece of clothing and closed her hand on the stick she used to stir the wash.

“Excuse me.”

Callie whirled, stick raised like a club with Mica behind her. The fellow standing there held up his hands as if in surrender.

“Sorry I startled you. I’m looking for the Murphy family.”

Callie eyed him. He looked about Adam’s age, with curly hair a shade darker than hers and eyes so deep a blue they were nearly black. Something about those eyes seemed sad, weary, as if he’d come a long distance and still had a ways to go. He didn’t look particularly dangerous.

She held the stick high anyway.

“What do you want with the Murphys?” she asked.

“I have news about their brother Adam,” he explained. “Are you California?”

This time she did shudder. Why had Pa picked such silly names for his children? Adam had the only name that sounded normal, and only because Pa had thought the first boy in the family should be called after the first man in the Bible. When Callie had asked her mother, God rest her soul, about why she hadn’t protested, Ma had smiled.

“You know your pa,” she’d said. “When he gets an idea in his head, there’s no arguing with him.”

That was why they’d followed him from San Francisco in the south to the British Territories in the north.

Still, only family knew Callie’s real name, which meant this man must have talked to Adam. She lowered the stick but kept it at the ready.

“I’m Adam Murphy’s sister,” she acknowledged. “What do you know about my brother?”

He dropped his hands and took a step closer. Her fingers tightened on the stick. He must have noticed, for he paused.

“I mean you no harm. My name is Levi Wallin. I’m a minister.”

A minister? Now, that made no sense. Why would a minister bring her news from Adam?

“I don’t know your game, mister,” she told him, “but I think you better leave. I have two other brothers, and they don’t take kindly to strangers.”

He frowned. If he really was a minister, he’d probably lecture her on being kind to strangers, respecting her elders, even though he could only be five or six years her senior. That was what ministers did, she’d learned from the few she’d met—criticize her, show her exactly how different she was, why she would never fit in with good society. She figured the best thing to do was let them go their own way while she went hers.

But this fellow didn’t show any sign of leaving. “I knew your brother well,” he said, voice soft. “Adam had honey-colored hair, just like you, and his eyes were lighter. He was a little shorter than me, but that didn’t stop him from fighting for his place or protecting his family. When Gap-Tooth Harding offered to buy you, every man in camp weighed in on one side or the other.”

Now Callie frowned. “You were at Vital Creek?”

“To my sorrow,” he admitted. “Scout Rankin and I had a claim at the opposite end of town from yours. I met Adam in a card game at Gillis’s. He cleaned me out.”

Just when she wanted to trust him! “Now I know you’re lying. Preachers don’t gamble.”

He smiled, and something inside her bubbled up as warm as a hot spring. “I wasn’t a preacher then.”

He wasn’t one now that she could see. Those rough wool trousers and caped duster looked warm, but they weren’t nearly nice enough to belong to a fancy minister. Ministers liked to show how important they were, how much better, smarter. If that was what it took to win God’s favor, she never would.

“Well, whatever you are,” Callie told him, “I’m not sure what to do with you.”

“I’d like to talk to you and your brothers.” He nodded toward Mica in the basket. “And your husband, of course.”

He wasn’t the first to assume Mica was her daughter instead of her niece, for all the differences in their coloring. She told him what she told the others. “I don’t have a husband.”

Again, she waited for the expected response—the gasp, the finger shaking, the prediction she would suffer for her sins.

Instead, his eyes widened. “Adam has a daughter? Where’s his wife?”

She could lie, claim Adam’s wife was in the house with a gun at the ready, but suddenly Callie felt as weary as this fellow looked. She jerked her head over her shoulder. “Buried over there. I’m in charge until Adam gets back.”

He moved closer yet, carefully, as if unsure whether she’d hit him or snatch up the baby and run. She considered doing both, but he was close enough that she could see the lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. Worry lines, Ma had called them, and she’d had her share. What worried this man?

“That’s a heavy burden,” he murmured. “I can see why Adam wanted me to help.”

“Adam asked you to help?”

He nodded. She studied his face, but he didn’t avoid her gaze or blink rapidly like she’d known some men to do when lying.

She drew in a breath. “I wish he’d thought of us before hightailing it back to the gold fields the minute his wife Anna died of a fever. But you needn’t worry, mister. My brothers and I are handling things just fine. We’ll make it through until Adam gets back for the winter. If you see him before we do, just remind him that if he doesn’t live on his claim in the next two months, we could lose it.”

His face sagged, and he put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Miss Murphy. Adam won’t make it back in time. He died three months ago. I only received word yesterday.”

* * *

There was no good way to say it. Even if he’d been a minister eight years instead of eight months, Levi thought he’d have stumbled telling Callie Murphy what had happened to her brother. Adam had been so alive, so feisty, so determined to strike it rich. It was hard for Levi to believe all that energy had been snuffed out.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked the two grizzled miners who’d stopped by Wallin Landing with the news and to bring him Adam’s belongings and the note to the Murphys.

They’d hung their heads, avoided his gaze.

“Surer than we wish we was,” one of the old timers gritted out. “He caught pneumonia and couldn’t fight it off. All that’s left of Adam Murphy now is a pile of regrets.”

Levi knew something about regrets.

He kept his hand on Callie’s arm now, ready to catch her if she fainted. She didn’t so much as sway. Her eyes, a mixture of blue and gray that reminded him of the swirling waters of Puget Sound, narrowed on him.

“Prove it.”

She spat out the words, as if he’d lie about anything so important. How ironic. He’d lied enough over the years, to escape punishment, to win something he’d wanted, to make himself appear more important. Now he was telling the truth, and she didn’t believe him.

“My horse is tied out front,” he said. “I have Adam’s letter in my saddlebag. Come with me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Her jaw worked as if she fought hard words. “I’m not going anywhere with you. And I don’t trust you out of my sight.”

She was either the most suspicious woman he’d ever met, or the wisest. She was also plenty brave, ready to lay into him with that stick. Having been raised in the gold camps and now living so far out, she probably had to take precautions. He hadn’t intended to look dangerous, but then, he’d used his boyish charm too many times in the past to think that danger couldn’t look pleasing.

“Then maybe I can help you until your brothers get back.” He bent to reach for the clothes, and she stepped in front of him.

“You want to help?” she challenged. “The pump’s been stuck for weeks. We have to lug all the water through the woods from the creek. Fix the pump, and we’ll talk.”

Levi straightened. “Fair enough.” He located the pump near the back of the cabin and went over to it. Easy enough to spot the problem. The device was orange with rust. He glanced up to ask her whether she had any oil, and words left him with his breath.

She’d picked up the baby and stood there, swaying from side to side, singing softly. The buckskin coat and trousers, so common on the gold fields, still hinted of a figure. The sunlight shafting through the forest sparked around her, sending gold skipping along her hair.

Levi turned his back on her. Oh, no. You have no business admiring Adam Murphy’s little sister. You have a lot of work to do before you’re fit to be a husband to any woman.

A movement in the bushes caught his eye, and a moment later two boys about eight years of age scampered into the clearing, dragging a burlap sack between them. The pair was identical, down to the dirt on their round cheeks and the mud on their worn boots. Sutter’s Mill Murphy and San Francisco Murphy. Back at Vital Creek, the miners used to make a game of guessing which boy was which.

“Look what we got, Callie,” one crowed.

“Old man Kingerly didn’t even try to stop us,” the other bragged.

Callie shot Levi a look before hurrying to meet them. “He agreed to give you that, didn’t he?” She tipped her head toward the house.

The closest boy glanced Levi’s way and stiffened, then elbowed his brother. The other looked toward Levi and dropped his corner of the sack.

“Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

“Who’s that?” his brother demanded.

“That’s Preacher Wallin,” Callie answered them. “He came to tell us something important. I think we should go inside to hear it.”

Her brothers exchanged glances, then the one retrieved his corner of the sack, and they dragged it toward the house. The shapes bumping against the material told him they had at least one pumpkin in the batch.

Callie followed them, baby up in one arm. The little one seemed to like him. She blinked big blue eyes surrounded by long black lashes and offered him a wide smile that revealed a set of four teeth. He remembered his oldest nieces being that age before he and Scout had set out to seek their fortune.

Regret stabbed him. He’d missed more than six years with his family chasing after something he had never needed. He’d thought striking it rich would give him standing, make him a man. He’d become a man all right, and not one his father would ever have wanted him to be. He would spend the rest of his life atoning for what he’d done on the gold fields. The Murphy family was only one step along the way.

Callie paused beside him as if she wanted to ask him something. She barely came to his shoulder, so he bent his head to give her his full attention. The blue-gray of her eyes was cool, assessing, as if she could see his darkest secret. He willed himself not to flinch.

She reached down, grasped the handle of the pump with her free hand and tried to yank it up. It didn’t move.

“Pump’s still broke,” she pronounced, straightening. She passed him for the door.

Levi was the last one inside. “The pump is rusted solid. Unless you have some oil and a wrench, it’s likely going to stay that way.”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care or doubted he would be of much use regardless. He suspected her nonchalance had more to do with the fact that she had no way to procure oil or a wrench.

In fact, she had no way to procure much of anything if the state of the cabin was any indication. It held a single room, though a ladder against one wall told of a loft overhead. Unlike his brothers’ sturdy cabins, this one was more crudely made. The logs hadn’t been seasoned properly, and the chinking was falling out in places, letting the sunlight spear through. The windows at the front and back held no glass; only shutters kept out the wind. The stone fireplace was barely big enough to keep the place warm. The shelves next to it listed, even though they held no more than a sagging sack of flour and some tough-looking carrots.

How could Adam have left his family in such dire straits?

A bedstead piled with quilts lay against one wall, with a plank table and benches near the fire. The boys dropped their sack by the table and climbed up on a bench. Callie, still holding the baby, went to stand at the head of the table. She frowned at Levi, before turning to her brothers. Her face softened.

“The preacher brought us news about Adam,” she said. “I warn you—it ain’t good.”

Her brothers’ eyes widened, and they looked to Levi.

He stepped forward until he stood at the end of the table. “I’m very sorry, boys. Your brother has passed on.”

They frowned in unison, mirror images of each other.

“Passed on to where?” one demanded.

“Were there better pickings there?” the other asked.

Levi’s heart tightened. “Much better pickings. Adam is in heaven.”

The first boy turned to his sister. “Where’s the Heaven strike? In Washington Territory?”

“Nah,” his brother scoffed. “It’s in Idaho, you dolt.”

The first boy scowled. Callie was regarding Levi, challenge in her eyes.

He squared his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is that your brother Adam has died, boys. But he didn’t want you to worry. He asked me to take care of you, and I will. I want you all to come live with me.”

Chapter Two

Callie was so shocked that she clutched Mica close to keep from dropping her. Live with him? Was he touched in the head?

Her brothers looked just as surprised, mouths hanging open, their normally busy bodies stilled. As usual, Frisco recovered first.

“Why’d we want to come live with you?” he demanded, hands braced on the table. “Callie takes care of us real good.”

“Always has,” Sutter agreed.

“Always will,” Callie promised them.

As if she thought so, too, Mica rested her head against Callie’s shoulder. Frisco and Sutter climbed off the bench and pressed against Callie’s side.

The preacher didn’t look dismayed to find them all ranged against him. He merely inclined his head.

“Your sister has done a good job,” he said, gaze moving from face to face. “But even Callie has to get tired once in a while.”

How did he know? She’d been so careful not to let her brothers see it. Neither of them knew the nights she broke down and cried, trying to think of a way to change their circumstances. She was up before they were, in bed long after they climbed to the loft. There weren’t enough hours in the day for tending to the claim let alone all the washing and cooking and cleaning.

Adam and Pa had both promised better things.

“Just you wait, Callie,” Pa would say, eyes bright and cheeks flushed like he was feverish. “One day you’ll dress in fine silks and live in a big house with servants to do all the work.”

He’d had a fever all right. Gold fever. This preacher seemed no different.

“We get by,” she told him, warmed by her brothers on either side. “What are you offering that’s any better?”

He took a step closer and spread his hands, as if intent on making his case. He had nice hands, strong-looking and not too soft, like he could wield a pick or shovel if he needed to. He was slender for a man, but those broad shoulders and long legs seemed made to crouch beside a stream for hours panning.

And when had she started judging men by their ability to hunt for gold!

“I have a solid house,” he said, “with a good roof and a big hearth.”

That would be nice. Frisco and Sutter kept having to reposition the tick they slept on to stay out of the drips from the roof when it rained.

“Our house is solid,” Frisco blustered.

The preacher had to know that was a lie, but he inclined his head again. “I also have a kitchen stove, plenty of food set aside for winter, a separate bedroom and a sleeping loft overhead.”

Her brothers brightened, but Callie had spotted the fly in the ointment. “Who do you figure’s sleeping in the bed?” she asked.

His brows shot up. Preachers—they never liked to talk about practical things, like sleeping arrangements or taking turns in the privy.

“You and the baby would have the bedroom,” he assured her. “I’ll bunk in the loft with the boys.”

Sutter and Frisco looked around her at each other, and she was fairly sure they didn’t like the idea of having the preacher so close at night. She’d heard them open the shutters in the loft after they were supposed to be asleep, the thud of their feet against the logs as they climbed down. And she’d stayed awake until she’d heard them climb back up again.

Still, she couldn’t believe the preacher would be so generous. “You’d take us into your own home,” she challenged. “People you barely know?”

He smiled. “I knew Adam. He saved my life once, gave me food when I was starving. I was his friend. That makes us friends, too.”

Friends, he said. She had had few over the years, young men her age mostly, and they’d quickly lost each other as families traveled to different strikes. She couldn’t believe this man was her friend. She couldn’t make herself believe any of it—Adam’s death, this stranger’s kindness. Either Levi Wallin was one of those do-gooders who donated to the poor only to brag about it, or he was after something.

“We don’t need your pity, preacher,” she said.

He smiled. Such a nice smile, lifting his lips, brightening his eyes. She could imagine people doing anything he wanted when he smiled at them that way.

“I’m not offering to help you from pity,” he promised her. “Adam asked me to look out for you. Some people might say he gave me guardianship of you all.”

Her brothers stiffened. So did Callie.

“Don’t much care what others say,” she told him. “I don’t need a guardian. I’ve been taking care of my family since I was twelve. And I’ll reach my majority in six months.”

He didn’t argue the fact. If he really did remember Vital Creek, he’d know about the parties Pa threw on any of his children’s birthdays, with music and treats. Anyone who recalled those would know she would turn one-and-twenty in the spring.

“Still, Adam asked me to take care of you,” he pointed out. “Perhaps you’d like to read his letter now.” He turned for the front door before she could respond. “I’ll be right back.” He strode out of the house.

Frisco and Sutter ran after him to peer out the cracks in the shutter.

“He has a horse,” Frisco reported.

“A nice one,” Sutter agreed.

They would know. They’d seen their share of sway-back nags over the years.

“He talks nice, too,” Frisco acknowledged. He turned from the shutter. “Do you think he’s telling the truth, Callie?”

She shrugged. “Even if he was, would you want to live with a preacher?”

Sutter stepped closer to Frisco, nudged his shoulder. Most folks thought her brothers were identical, but she could tell the difference. Frisco was a little bigger, a little heavier, and Sutter’s eyes had more gray in them. Frisco was the leader, Sutter the follower. And both looked to Callie to make the hard decisions.

Like now, when this stranger wanted them to leave the only home they’d ever known.

The preacher returned, crossed to her side and handed her a piece of paper, even as her brothers came to join them. He’d left the door open as if to give her more light to read by, but the little black lines and dots still swam before her eyes.

Were these really Adam’s last words?

She handed the letter to Frisco. “Here. Read it aloud.”

Her brother swallowed, then looked down at the paper.

“Callie, Frisco, Sutter and Mica,” he started, each word slow as he sounded them out. He glanced up at Callie with a grin. “See there, Callie? That’s my name next to yours.”

The preacher smiled as if he appreciated her brother’s excitement. Between their moves and the remote location of the claim, Frisco and Sutter had never been in school, but Callie took pride that they had learned their letters from Anna.

“I see it,” she told Frisco. “Read the rest.”

He bent over the paper. “I promised you all to come back before winter, but I think I’m done for.”

Sutter sucked in a breath, and Frisco looked up again, face paling.

“Go on,” Callie said, throat tight.

“Real cold up here. You remember. But don’t worry. Levi Wallin will take care of you. He knows about living like we did. He understands.”

Callie looked up to find Levi watching her. No one who hadn’t lived in the camps could appreciate the life they’d led. Even the townsfolk in Seattle called her and her brothers wild, uncouth, like they were animals instead of people. Levi Wallin might have visited the gold fields, befriended Adam, but he was still a preacher.

“Tell Mica about me when she asks,” Frisco continued, voice wavering more from emotion than reading skills now, Callie thought. “Tell her I loved her and her ma. Tell her I only wanted to dress her in fine silks and give her a big house with servants.”

Callie dashed a tear from her cheek. She’d tell Mica about Adam, but never that he’d wasted his life, like his father before him, chasing after a fool dream.

“Think of me kindly,” Frisco finished with a sniff. “Your loving brother Adam.”

Sutter’s face was puckered. “Why’d he have to go and die?”

“Everyone dies,” Frisco said, crumpling the note in his fist. “Ma, Pa, Adam, Anna. Callie will die one day. So will you.”

“I won’t!” Sutter shouted, giving him a shove.

“Boys!” Callie blinked back tears. “That’s enough. Frisco’s right—everyone dies someday. It might be sooner or it might be later. None of us knows.”

As Frisco rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, she gathered him closer. Sutter crowded on her other side. Adam was really dead. He and Pa had fought with the fellow who’d tried to buy her. Now it looked as if her brother had simply given her away. Didn’t he think she could raise the boys and Mica alone? Hadn’t he trusted her? What was she supposed to do now?

“I remember how it felt to lose my pa,” the preacher said, in a quiet, thoughtful voice that was respectful of what they were feeling. “I was eight when he was killed in a logging accident.”

So maybe he knew a little about loss. Frisco didn’t respond, but Sutter raised his head. “What did you do?”

“I relied on my family and friends,” he said.

Now Frisco looked up at Callie. “You’re family, Callie. What do you think we should do?”

At least her little brothers trusted her. Even Mica was regarding her with hope shining in her blue eyes.

Still, what choice did she have? She’d been counting on Adam returning before the freeze set in. She needed another pair of hands to get everything ready for winter. Her brothers were too young yet for some of the tasks, and they weren’t very good about taking care of Mica so she could work elsewhere on the claim. They kept finding more interesting things to do, leaving the baby unattended. But she couldn’t hunt or chop wood carrying a baby.

Besides, with Adam gone, how could they keep the claim? She couldn’t file for her own for another six months.

She met the preacher’s gaze. Once more that deep blue pulled her in, whispered of something more, something better. If only she could make herself believe.

“I think,” she told her brothers, “that we should get to know Adam’s friend a little better.”

* * *

Levi smiled. Though he liked to think he’d outgrown the grin Ma had always called mischievous, he knew a smile could go a long way toward calming concerns, soothing troubled hearts. The Murphys had no reason to trust him other than a recommendation from their dead brother. A brother who might still be alive if he hadn’t yielded to the siren’s call of gold.

“You live around here, preacher?” Callie asked him.

They were all watching him. Even the baby blinked her eyes before fixing them on his face as if fascinated.

“I’m the pastor of the church at Wallin Landing, up north on Lake Union,” he told them. He still couldn’t quite believe it. He’d tutored under a missionary on the gold fields, traveled to San Francisco to be trained and ordained. He’d intended to return north to the men who needed hope in the gold rush camps, to help Thaddeus Bilgin, his mentor. Then he’d discovered that his family had built a church and was ready to request a pastor. They couldn’t know how they’d honored him by offering him the role. His first duty had been to perform the marriage ceremony for his closest brother, John, and his bride, Dottie.

But Callie didn’t look impressed that he was the pastor of a church at such a young age. Her eyes were narrowed again. “Levi Wallin, Wallin Landing. Must be nice to have a family who owns a whole town.”

He’d never considered his family wealthy, until he’d left them. Now he knew they had riches beyond anything he would have found panning—love, friendship, encouragement, faith. Still, he didn’t want to give Callie the wrong impression and have her be disappointed when she saw Wallin Landing.

“Not much of a town,” he explained. “Yet. It was our pa’s dream to build a community. We have a church, a store and post office, a dispensary and a school.” He nodded to her brothers. “My brother James’s wife is the teacher. You could learn all kinds of things there, boys.”

First Frisco and then Sutter nodded. At least, he thought he had the names pinned to the right person.

Frisco stuck out his chin. “I reckon we know enough without going to some stupid school.”

“And I reckon there’s always more to know,” Callie countered. She held out the baby to him. “Here. Take Mica for a ride in her wagon. Leave the door open so I can see you. No running off this time. Me and the preacher need to talk.”

Frisco accepted the baby, who babbled her delight at his company. With looks that held a world of doubt, the twins headed for the door.

Callie took a step closer to Levi. Her hair was parted down the middle and plaited to hang on either side of her face, making her look sad and worn. But even if it had been pinned up like most ladies wore it these days, he thought she’d still look sad. She certainly had reason.

“Did they give him a good burial?” she asked.

If someone from Seattle had asked him that question, he would have extolled the wisdom of the minister who delivered the eulogy, numbered the attendees who had honored the deceased with their presence and described the casket and the flowers. After watching men die in the northern wilderness, he was fairly sure what Callie was really asking.

“A team of six men buried him good and deep. Nothing will disturb Adam’s rest.”

She nodded, shifting back and forth on her feet as she gazed out the open door. With a rattle, the boys passed, dragging a rickety wagon with Mica bundled in the bed. He heard Callie’s sigh, felt it inside.

“I’m sorry,” Levi said. “He was too young to die.”

“So was Anna,” she murmured, rubbing at her arm. “That’s Mica’s mother. Our ma and pa died too young, for that matter. Pa stayed in the stream so long he contracted pneumonia. I wouldn’t be surprised if Adam went the same way.”

She and her little brothers had seen too much death. She was younger than his sister Beth. She ought to be giggling over fashion plates, planning for a bright future. What sort of future had her father and brother bequeathed her? She was all the family the boys and the baby had left. The need to help her was so strong that he wondered she couldn’t see it hanging between them.

“A man I knew at Vital Creek was fond of saying that life is for the living,” he murmured. “What do you want to do with your life, Miss Murphy?”

She made a face. “Not so much a matter of wanting as what must be done. Frisco and Sutter need to go to school, learn a trade. I won’t have them dying with a pan in their hands, too. And someone has to raise Mica.”

Levi closed the distance between them, put both hands on her shoulders. Though they seemed far too narrow, there was a strength in them. “What about Callie? Do you want nothing for yourself?”

Her gaze brushed his, and for a moment he thought she’d confess some dream of her own. Then she shrugged as if dismissing it. “You do right by my kin, preacher, and I’ll be satisfied. I can always find my own way later.”

So brave. He might have given another woman a brotherly hug to encourage her, but something told him Callie wouldn’t take kindly to the gesture. She was all prickles and thorns, a hedge thrown up in defense of the heart within, he suspected. He wasn’t sure how to convince her he only meant the best for all of them.

Lord, I thought You sent me here. I thought You were offering me a chance to be the man You want me to be. Give me the words. Help me win her over, for her sake and mine.

“You don’t believe I’ll take care of you all,” he said aloud.

She shrugged as if she didn’t believe much of anything.

He released her shoulders. “I want to help you, Miss Murphy. Adam supported me when no one else would. I want to honor his wishes.”

She scrubbed at her cheek, but not before he saw the tears that had dampened them. “Adam’s gone. Besides, it wasn’t as if you two were partners.”

Partners. The most sacred of ideals where she came from. And that gave him an inkling of how to proceed.

“We weren’t partners,” he acknowledged. “But you and I might be.”

She turned her gaze his way again. “How do you figure?”

“We both want the best for your brothers and little Mica. We should work together.”

She cocked her head. “I’m listening.”

“You, your brothers and Mica can come to live at Wallin Landing as my wards. I’ll see your brothers and Mica clothed, fed, housed and educated. I’ll help you find a future for yourself.”

Still she regarded him. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“When two people decide to partner on a mining claim, how do they know they can trust each other?”

“They give their word and shake hands,” she allowed.

“I give you my word that you and your family will be safe at Wallin Landing.” He stuck out his hand.

She eyed his hand, and for a moment he thought she’d refuse. Then she slipped her fingers into his, sending a tingle up his arm. “And I give you my word to help you raise Frisco, Sutter and Mica,” she said.

He shook her hand. “Partners?”

“Partners for now,” she agreed. “But don’t expect anything more.”

Releasing her, Levi frowned. “What more would I want?”

She shook her head. “Sometimes you ask the silliest questions for a man who claims to have been on the gold fields. You just hold up your end of the bargain, preacher, or this will be the shortest partnership you ever heard of. Wallin Landing may be north of Seattle, but I can still walk away.”

Chapter Three

Levi Wallin came back the next day with a wagon. By that time, Callie had talked herself into going with him.

She had a number of concerns. For one thing, she still wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision by agreeing to partner him. It was fine and good to say he wanted to help, but once he was back at his church, everything neat and tidy and clean, surely he’d start to regret his promise to her. What sort of fellow willingly took on four more mouths to feed, the raising of two boys and a baby? She’d accepted that responsibility out of love; she was kin, after all. What was Levi Wallin’s reason?

He said he had been Adam’s friend, and it seemed he owed Adam a favor for helping him. This was a mighty big favor. The preacher might recall some of the same events she did at Vital Creek, but she didn’t remember meeting him there, couldn’t see his face along the crowded stream of her memories. Charity only went so far, and this partnership was a fair piece further. She simply couldn’t figure him out.

And their visitors didn’t make matters easier.

Carrying Mica in her arms, she’d walked the mile to the Kingerly claim to confirm the elderly farmer had indeed given her brothers the pumpkin and turnips they’d dragged home. She’d returned to find two men with her brothers at the back of the cabin. Their rough, heavy clothing and the pans affixed to their horses’ trap told her what they were before they introduced themselves. Zachariah Turnpeth and Willard Young claimed to be prospectors heading home for the winter. They begged a room for the night. It was one of the unwritten rules of the gold fields. You shared bedding, food, drink, clothing, equipment. About the only thing you didn’t share was your claim. Only the worst of the worst came between a man and his claim.

But she wasn’t about to let strangers stay in the cabin.

“You can pitch your tent out back,” Callie told the older men. “We’ve no grain for the horses, but you’re welcome to share our dinner.”

Her brothers scowled at her as if they thought she should be more generous. As little food was left, she knew she was being generous indeed.

The twins were quick to quiz the prospectors on where they’d panned, what they’d done as she’d fed them all roast pumpkin and turnips.

“Alike as two peas in a pod,” Zachariah said with a smile to Callie.

“Puts me in mind of Fred Murphy’s young’uns at Vital Creek,” Willard agreed. “They’d be around seven now.”

Callie looked at them askance, but Frisco puffed out his chest. “Eight,” he declared.

“You knew Pa?” Sutter asked.

Callie waited to hear their answer.

“If your pa was Fred Murphy, we did,” Zachariah admitted.

“And that means your brother was Adam Murphy,” Willard said. “We was real sorry to hear about his passing.” He scratched gray hair well receded from his narrow face and glanced around. “A shame he couldn’t make it back before Christmas.”

“Yes, it is,” Callie murmured, eyes feeling hot.

Zachariah reached out a hand and ruffled Frisco’s hair, earning him no better than a frown. “I don’t suppose he sent anything home for his brothers.”

“Not a thing,” Sutter said with a sigh. “And now we have to leave.”

“Leave?” Zachariah turned to Callie. Both of the miners watched her as if she was about to confess she’d been voted president. “Where are you going? North to pan?”

In winter? Oh, but they had the fever bad. “No. We’re going to live with a friend at Wallin Landing. It will be better than this.”

Sutter smashed the pumpkin on his tin plate with a wooden spoon. “Most anything would be better than this.”

Callie couldn’t argue. Adam had been a terrible homesteader. He’d bought them a goat for milk, but the ornery thing had run off weeks ago. Foxes had carried off the chickens. He’d never managed enough money for a horse and plow, so the most they’d been able to grow came from Anna’s vegetable patch behind the house. Callie was just thankful the woods teemed with game and wild fruits and vegetables. But even that bounty was growing scarce as winter approached.

Frisco scooted closer to the table, glanced between the two men. “Sutter and me could come north with you, when you head back.”

Sutter nodded. “We got pans.”

Heat rushed up her. Callie slammed her hands down on the table. “No! No panning, no sluicing. Finish up and head for bed. We have a long way to go in the morning.”

The prospectors had shoveled in the food as if they suspected she was going to snatch it away, then slipped out the back door. And Callie had spent the next hour or so packing up her family’s things, such as they were.

She’d hardly slept that night, but more to make sure her brothers didn’t run off with Zachariah and Willard than with concern over the change she was making. She was glad to see the men gone in the morning, the only sign the holes in the ground where they’d driven their tent pegs. Wearing her brother’s old flannel shirt and trousers, belted around her waist to keep them close, suspenders over her shoulder to keep them up, she’d barely finished feeding Mica mashed pumpkin when Sutter dashed in the door.

“He’s coming!”

Callie’s stomach dipped and rose back up again. So much for not being nervous. Gathering Mica close as she shoved her father’s hat on top of her hair, she followed her brother out onto the slab of rock that served as a front step.

Though he was still dressed in those rough clothes she found hard to credit to a preacher, Levi Wallin had brought two horses with him this time. They were both big and strong, coats a shiny black in the pale sunlight. They were hitched to a long farm wagon with an open bed, the kind Adam had always wanted to buy. Frisco was trotting alongside as if to guide them.

It only took two trips to load their things. Adam had left with his pack, most of the panning supplies and some of the dishes, but she still had her father’s pack and the one Ma had used plus Mica’s wagon. Their belongings fit inside Levi’s wagon with room to spare. She had Sutter bring the quilts their mother had sewn and pile them in a corner of the wagon next to the bench. Pulling on her coat, she glanced around one more time.

This was supposed to be home. Maybe one day she could come back. Maybe no one would want a claim so far out. Maybe she could file for it herself in six months.

Maybe she better leave before tears fell.

Her brothers were already snuggled in the quilts when she came out with Mica in one arm and her rifle in the other. The preacher approached her, and she offered him the baby so she could climb up.

He hesitated, then took the little girl from Callie’s grip. He held her out, feet dangling, as if concerned she might spit on his clothes. Mica bubbled a giggle and wiggled happily.

Callie sighed. “Here, like this.” She lay the rifle on the bench, then repositioned Levi’s arms to better support the baby. Some muscles there—hard and firm. Touching them made her fingers warm. She took a step away from him.

As Mica gazed up at him, the preacher reared back his head, neck stretching, as if distancing himself from the smiling baby in his arms.

“She won’t bite,” Callie told him.

“Yet,” Frisco predicted.

The preacher’s usually charming smile was strained. “It’s been a long time since I held a baby. I was the youngest in my family, and I moved away when my brothers’ oldest children were about this age.”

So that was the problem. Callie patted his arm and offered him a smile. “You’ll do fine. Just hang on to her until I climb up and stow the rifle, then hand her to me.”

That went smoothly enough, until Levi climbed up onto the bench, reins in one fist. His trousers brushed hers as he settled on the narrow seat, and his sleeve rubbed along her arm as he shook the reins and called to the horses. The wagon turned with the team, bringing her and Levi shoulder to shoulder. Each touch sent a tremor through her.

No, no, no. She’d spent the last five years avoiding such contact with men. She’d all but decided she would never marry. She certainly didn’t want to get all fluttery over a minister of all people, someone who would only judge her and find her wanting. And how did she know he wouldn’t go tearing off to the gold fields one day like every other man she’d ever known? She’d had quite enough of that for one lifetime.

Not even Levi Wallin’s charming smile could convince her otherwise.

* * *

What was wrong with him? Every flick of the reins, every bump of the wagon made him more aware of Callie Murphy sitting beside him. He’d thought his change of heart and his religious studies had helped him become a new man. But had he just traded gold fever for petticoat fever?

He remembered what it had been like when Asa Mercer had brought women from the East Coast to the lonely bachelors in Seattle. His brothers Drew, Simon and James owed their wives to Mercer’s efforts. Even now, seven years later, men still far outnumbered the women in Seattle. That was one of the reasons his sister Beth had written for a mail-order bride for their brother John.

But Levi had no intention of taking a bride. Not for a long while, if ever. His time on the gold fields had shown him the kind of man he was deep down. No wife deserved a husband like that. He had started to rebuild his life, but he had a long way to go.

His brothers didn’t understand. They had all been so pleased, and not a little surprised, to find that their little brother had become a minister. They remembered the scrapes he’d gotten into as a youth—stealing Ma’s blackberry pie off the window ledge where it had been set to cool and claiming a bear had lumbered by. Trying to show his oldest brother Drew he was strong enough to master an ax and bringing down a tree so close to the house it shaved off a corner of the back porch. Attempting to prove himself a man by gambling himself into a debt so deep his entire family had had to chip in to raise him out of it.

The last thoughtless act still made him shudder. He’d worked on Drew’s logging crew for months to pay everyone back. And then he and Scout had heard about the gold strike in the British Territories and run off to make their fortunes.

“You’ll see,” Levi had promised his friend. “We’ll come home rich. They’ll have to respect us.”

Respect had seemed all important then. He was the youngest of his family, Scout the only son of a father who couldn’t have cared less. They had wanted something to call their own, a way to make people look at them with pride. Filling their pockets with gold had sounded easy.

Their adventures had not only failed to find them gold but lost Levi his respect for himself. And no one except Scout, Thaddeus and God knew how far Levi had fallen. It would be a long time before he felt himself worthy of respect again.

The best he could do now was help the Murphy family. He glanced at Callie sitting beside him. She wore a slouch hat that hid her hair and shadowed her face as she gazed down at the baby in her arms. The movement of the wagon must have lulled little Mica to sleep, for thick black lashes swept across her pearly cheeks.

He couldn’t forget the feel of the child in his arms—so tiny, so fragile. Her big blue eyes had gazed at him so trustingly. She was too young to know the things he’d seen, the things he’d done.

Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity to make amends and help a friend.

Peace brushed him like the wings of a dove, reminding him of why he had started down this path. God had never abandoned him, no matter how far Levi had run. He’d been waiting with open arms for Levi to come home. It was a blessing to return the favor with the Murphys.

“How far do we got to go?” one of her brothers asked behind him. The belligerent tone likely belonged to Frisco.

“Will it take much longer?” Sutter whined.

Levi smiled. He’d been the same way once, eager for things to start now. “Have you ridden to Seattle before?”

“’Course we have,” Frisco said, tone now aggrieved.

“Well, it’s that much again to Wallin Landing,” Levi told him.

He glanced back in time to see Frisco slide deeper into the pile of quilts. “That could be hours.”

“Days,” Sutter moaned.

“Maybe we could stop in Seattle,” Callie suggested. “Stretch our legs.”

“Get a sarsaparilla,” Levi offered.

Sutter perked up. Frisco pushed himself closer to the bench. “You got money, preacher?”

Callie scowled at her brother. “I got money, the last of what Adam sent us a few months ago. There’s no call to bother the preacher.”

“It’s no problem,” Levi assured her. “I said I’d provide for you all.”

Frisco leaned up between them, arms braced on the back of the bench. “That’s real nice of you, preacher. And maybe we could get something to eat at one of them fancy hotels.”

“San Francisco Murphy,” Callie said, her voice a low rumble, like a thunderstorm heading their way.

Her brother’s eyes widened, and he ducked back into the wagon bed. “It was just an idea. A fellow can’t live on pumpkin and pinecones.”

“I never fed you pinecones,” Callie complained. “But maybe I should.” She shot Levi a glance. Behind that stern look, he thought he saw a twinkle in her blue-gray eyes. “You got pinecones up your way, preacher?”

“Plenty of them,” Levi assured her. “My brother chops down a lot of trees. I’m sure he could find a few cones, maybe some sawdust.”

“There you go,” Callie said, facing front. “Everything a growing boy needs.”

“You’re no fun,” Frisco grumbled.

“I’d eat pinecones,” Sutter told him. “If I had to.”

“Would not!”

“Would, too!”

Before Levi could move, the two were rolling around in the bed of the wagon, pushing and pummeling each other. With a jolt, he realized their movements were shoving the packs toward the rear of the open wagon.

Callie must have seen the problem as well. “That’s enough!” she cried. “You’ll cost us our things.”

Neither brother paid her the least heed. Face turning red, she reached back a hand, but, holding the baby, she couldn’t seem to catch hold of either boy.

“Hang on,” Levi told her.

She cast him a glance, then resolutely grabbed the side of the bench.

Levi slapped down on the reins, and the horses lunged forward. The movement sent both boys flying into the quilts. Levi reined in, allowing the horses to draw the wagon to the side of the road and stop. Then he turned and gazed down at two scowling faces. Somehow, he thought he’d looked at Drew with just that amount of defiance when his older brother had taken over leadership of the family after Pa had died.

“You wanted to get to Seattle as fast as possible,” he reminded them. “Every time you act up, I’m stopping this wagon. I’ve slept out under the stars before, in colder weather than this. If you want to take a week to go five miles, I’m your man.”

They didn’t so much as exchange glances this time.

“No,” they chorused.

“Good,” Levi said. “Then pull those packs up closer to the bench and get comfortable.”

The two scurried to comply.

“By the way,” Levi continued with a wink to Callie, “I hear there are bandits in these parts. Keep your eyes peeled, and sing out if you spot one.”

The twins’ heads jerked up, and they nodded eagerly.

As soon as they’d settled themselves back among the quilts, Levi faced front and called to the horses.

“Bandits,” Callie said, skepticism in her voice. Even Mica, who must have been awakened by the sudden movements, was frowning at him.

Levi shrugged. “My brother and his wife were set upon out this way.”

Callie’s eyes widened.

He felt a tug of guilt and leaned closer, speaking low for her ears alone. “Eight years ago. I haven’t heard of any trouble recently.”

“Are those bandits?” Sutter called.

A chill ran up him. They were rolling around a bend, so Levi could easily spare a look back. Callie turned as well, shoulder brushing his. Two riders were coming along the road. The pair was far enough behind that Levi couldn’t make out their faces under their broad-brimmed hats. He forced himself to focus on guiding the horses around the curve.

“Do you know them?” Callie murmured beside him.

“I don’t think so,” Levi told her. “You?”

Her cheeks were pale. “We had visitors last night. Might be them. Horses look right.”

“There’s another bend coming up,” Levi said. “We’ll check then.”

As the horses trotted around the curve, Levi and Callie turned once more. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her.

The way behind lay empty.

Callie met his gaze. “Where did they go? I didn’t see any tracks leading off this one.”

Neither had he. Were they waiting around the last bend, making sure he didn’t get another look at them? Why the secrecy? What were they trying to hide?

And what had drawn them out this way?

Chapter Four

Callie kept her head high as they rolled into Seattle. She’d been a little concerned about the men Sutter had spotted on the road, but the pair had never caught up with them. Obviously bored, Frisco and Sutter had curled themselves in Ma’s quilts.

They perked up as Levi guided the horses down Second Avenue. Callie wished she could be as excited. New buildings crowded either side of the wide, muddy street, signs overhead showing pictures of boots, hats and a mortar and pestle. Men in a variety of garb, from fine wool coats and high-crowned hats to rough trousers and tweed caps, moved among the shops, boots clomping on the boardwalk. The few ladies among them walked with bonnets covering their hair and cloaks covering their swaying skirts. Callie’s hand went to finger her lank locks spilling out below her hat. It had been too cold the last few weeks to take a bath and wash her hair, even if she’d felt it fair to ask her brothers to lug enough water from the creek.

Many of the people were glancing their way with curious looks. She could almost hear their whispers.

There go those wild Murphy brats.

Someone ought to teach them better.

They shouldn’t be allowed near civilized folk.

“We gonna get that sarsaparilla, preacher?” Frisco asked, leaning over the edge of the wagon as if ready to dive into the mud of the street to escape.

“You sit back down,” Callie ordered before Levi could answer. “I won’t have you causing trouble.”

Frisco heaved another sigh and threw himself once more among the quilts.

“We should rest the horses,” Levi told her. He nodded ahead to one of the few brick buildings she’d seen. “Why don’t we stop at the Pastry Emporium?”

Immediately her brothers chorused their support, rousing Mica, who beamed at them all as if delighted to wake in such company.

Callie eyed the building with its green-and-white-striped awning over the wide front window, the bright painted sign overhead. A lady in a bow-spangled dress was just entering.

“Looks mighty fancy to me,” Callie told him. “I doubt they’d want our business.”

Levi raised his brows. “I assure you, Miss Murphy, the owner Maddie Haggerty has seen far worse than two eager boys. She’s an old friend of the family.”

Oh, but he moved in fine circles. First a whole town, now a prosperous Seattle business owner. Callie hefted Mica close as Levi drew the horses to the hitching post and jumped down to tie them. As Frisco and Sutter ran to press their noses to the sparkling glass of the front window, Levi held out his arms to Callie. “Coming, Miss Murphy?”

Callie faced front. “I’ll wait here. Someone should watch the wagon.”

Out of the corners of her eyes she saw his arms fall. “That shouldn’t be necessary. We’ll only be inside a short while, and we can see the wagon from the window.”

Callie hunched her shoulders. “We’re carrying all our worldly goods, preacher. I ain’t taking chances.”

“On anything, it seems,” he said.

Callie shot him a look. The sun glinted on the golden curls against his forehead, made the blue of his eyes sparkle nearly as much as the clear glass window. Still, she couldn’t let his sweet looks sway her. “I came this far, didn’t I?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “As you like, Miss Murphy. The boys and I will only be a moment.” Turning, he strode for the door, her brothers on either side.

Callie sighed. She shouldn’t have been so hard on him. He was only being kind. He wasn’t used to having people judge him. In her experience, ministers were the ones who generally led the judging.

As if to comfort her, Mica cuddled closer. Callie rested her cheek against the baby’s silky hair. At least Mica didn’t complain. She’d made do with goat’s milk after her mother had died, opened her mouth eagerly for whatever mashed fruit, vegetable or grain Callie could manage after the goat escaped. She laughed and wiggled through every rough diaper, every tepid bath.

“And if that diamond ring turns to brass,” Callie sang, rocking her gently, “Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass.”

Mica sighed happily.

“Pardon me, ma’am.”

Callie looked up to find a fellow on horseback next to the wagon. His hat was as black as the horse, his eyes only a shade or two brighter. The planes of his face were hard. A shiver went through her, and Callie swallowed.

Seeing he had her attention, he nodded. “I know those horses, but I don’t know you.”

She was not about to be accused of horse thievery. Callie narrowed her eyes at him before turning to stare straight ahead. “Don’t much care what you know, mister. I advise you to ride on.”

He didn’t even shift in the saddle, and his voice came out cold. “I’m afraid I can’t do that until you tell me how you came by James Wallin’s horses.”

Callie glanced his way. One hand had strayed closer to the gun at his hip. She stiffened, arms tightening around Mica. She’d never reach the rifle under the bench in time.

Her brothers’ laughter echoed behind her as they came out onto the boardwalk to the tinkle of the shop bell.

“Hey, Callie,” Frisco called, “look what we got—a whole roll, all for you. With frosting!”

“Who’s that?” Sutter asked.

Figure on Sutter to notice the man on horseback. Callie refused to take her eyes off the fellow until she knew he wasn’t going to shoot one of them.

“Deputy McCormick,” Levi said. “How can we help you?”

Deputy? So this fellow was the law in Seattle.

He nodded past Callie as if acknowledging Levi. “No help necessary. You answered my question.” His hand moved away from the gun to finger the brim of his hat. “Good day, ma’am.”

“A moment,” Levi called, just when she thought she might relax. As Sutter scrambled up into the bed of the wagon and Frisco handed Callie the roll wrapped in paper, Levi came around to face the lawman.

“These are the Murphys from out around Columbia,” he told the deputy. “I’m taking them to Wallin Landing to live. We were followed part of the way by a pair of riders. I didn’t like the looks of them.”

The lawman nodded. “I’ll head that direction when I can. Thanks for letting me know.” With a flick of the reins, he rode on.

Callie drew in a breath at last. Sutter leaned out of the wagon bed, as if watching the deputy until he turned the corner. Frisco pressed against the side of the wagon next to Callie.

“Go on and eat it,” Frisco said, slate-colored eyes bright as silver in the sunlight. “It’s cinnamon.”

She could see some of the red-brown spice clinging to the corner of his mouth, and her own mouth turned up in a smile. “Was it good?”

“Oh, yes.” He glanced at Levi, who had also been watching the lawman. “Thanks, preacher.”

Levi collected himself and smiled at her brother. “You’re welcome, Frisco. Climb aboard, now. We still have a ways to go.”

With a sigh that sounded far less happy, her brother trudged toward the back of the wagon.

Levi turned his smile on Callie. “I’m glad to see Deputy McCormick checking on you, making sure you were safe out here.”

Callie snorted. “Wasn’t me he was worried about. It was the horses. He thought I’d stolen them.”

She expected Levi to argue, but he chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone made off with Lance and Percy.” He patted the closest horse before going to untie them. “You remember those bandits I mentioned? They took these beauties, left my brother and his betrothed alone in the wilderness.”

Sutter popped up behind her. “How’d they get home?”

Callie was fairly sure he was asking about the horses, not Levi’s family, but Levi nodded to him as he climbed into his seat and took up the reins. “James and his sweetheart navigated the forest alone for three days before our brother Simon tracked them and brought them home. The deputy and James both searched for the horses, but Rina was the one who rescued the pair.”

“Rina?” Callie asked with a frown.

Levi called to the horses, who pulled the wagon down the street toward where trees dotted the horizon at the north. “His betrothed, now his wife. She can be impressive.”

Frisco popped up as well. “Wait, ain’t she the lady you said taught school?”

“That’s right.”

Her brothers exchanged glances. Callie knew what they must be thinking. A schoolteacher who could fight off horse thieves?

Maybe going to Wallin Landing would turn out better than she’d thought, for all of them.

* * *

Levi smiled at how quickly Callie consumed the treat from Maddie. The Irishwoman was a good cook, but the way Callie inhaled the aroma, dug her fingers into the soft dough, that was about the best cinnamon roll ever baked. She caught him watching her as she finished and ducked her head, right hand rubbing at her left shoulder.

“When are we gonna get there?” Frisco whined.

“Another hour,” Levi promised him.

The answering sigh could have toppled a cedar.

“We can sing to pass the time,” Callie said, shifting Mica on her lap.

Frisco humphed. “You always want to sing.”

She ignored him, looking thoughtful. “Something spritely like we did around the fire at night.”

Sutter popped up. “How about ‘Sweet Betsy from Pike’?”

Levi wasn’t sure what his congregation would think if he drove in to Wallin Landing belting a bawdy song from the gold fields. “What about ‘Get on Board’?”

Callie brightened. “We know that. Adam brought it back from his last trip.” She started singing the first verse.

“The gospel train is coming.

I hear it just at hand.

I hear the car wheels moving.

And rumbling through the land.”

She had a clear, sweet voice, both the sound and the glow on her face drawing him in. The feeling reminded him of summer outings on the lake with his family, friends gathered around a hearth. He and her brothers joined her on the chorus and other verses, while Mica swayed in time.

“Well done,” he complimented her when they finished and her brothers plopped back down among the quilts.

She blushed a soft pink. “I always liked music, sung or played. Something about it touches me inside.” She pressed a hand to her heart, and Mica grabbed her fingers. With a smile, she lowered her hand. “That probably sounds odd to you.”

“Not at all,” Levi told her, ducking under a low-hanging branch. “I feel that way about the Bible. Thaddeus Bilgin, the minister who took me under his wing at Vital Creek, encouraged me to start reading it again. Every time I open it, the words are new.”

She smoothed the buckskin of her coat. “Never have read the Bible.”

Levi grinned at her. “Now, that’s something I can help you change.”

Her hand stilled. “I expect I’ll be too busy.”

Not if he could help it.

Just the memory of his old friend made his spirits lift. Thaddeus had taught him a lot of things, both spiritual and practical. The two of them still corresponded now that Thaddeus was settled in Vancouver.

His spirits lifted even higher as the first farms at the edge of Wallin Landing came into view. Their neighbor Mr. Paul raised his hand as they passed. Mrs. Ruflagger called a greeting as she walked her ducks down to the lake. Funny how they both treated him kindly now that he was the minister. The elderly farmer had spent half of Levi’s life chasing him out of the crops, and the wise farmwife had spent an equal amount of time dragging him out of the lake. A good thing they didn’t know what he’d done on the gold fields. They might not be so forgiving.

The steeple rising through the trees in the distance reminded him of the One who had forgiven all.

“Almost there,” he called to the boys.

Frisco and Sutter bobbed up, looking around eagerly. Callie raised her head, and Mica reached out as if she could make the wagon go faster.

He called to Lance and Percy, and the horses leaned into the harness, carrying the wagon up the rise onto the promontory that held the church buildings.

His brothers had built the chapel to inspire. The steeple loomed higher than the ancient fir and cedar surrounding it. The clean white paint gleamed in the sunlight and cheered on a rainy day. The windows on the north looked out onto Lake Union. Beth had wanted stained glass but Levi had convinced her to use clear panes. The vista reminded worshippers that they served a mighty God, capable of creating such a wonder. He couldn’t come near the place without feeling a sense of pride.

To one side lay a long, steep-roofed log hall, ready to serve as a place for local gatherings. Rina was planning to use it for the school’s Christmas theatrical in a few weeks. On the other side of the church, completing the triangle of buildings, stood the parsonage.

Frisco and Sutter leaped from the wagon before Levi had even brought it to a complete stop. Whooping and hollering, they ran toward the door of the two-story log house.

“Stop!” Callie ordered them, sitting taller on the seat and earning her a surprised look from Mica. Her brothers skidded on the path. “You come back and help the preacher and me unload.”

Their shoulders slumped, but they returned to the wagon.

“Plenty of time to explore,” Levi promised them, climbing down. “In fact, after we get everything settled, I’d be happy to show you around.”

Frisco tugged up on his worn trousers. “No need, preacher. We’re pretty good at finding our own way.” Sutter nodded.

Still defiant. Levi went around to the rear of the wagon and pulled out a pack like the one he’d used on the gold fields. Memories threatened, but he put them aside.

“Just as well,” he said. “My brothers would probably skin me alive if I showed you our secret fishing hole.”

Sutter grinned, but Frisco scowled.

“Here.” Levi shoved the pack at him. “Take this inside. Sutter, go see if Callie needs help with Mica.”

Muttering under his breath, Frisco took the pack and headed for the house. Levi shouldered the other pack and pulled out Mica’s little wagon. As he came around from the back, Callie was standing on the ground and handing the baby to Sutter.

“And mind you no fighting while she’s in your arms,” she admonished him.

“I know that,” Sutter said, making a face. “I’m not stupid, contrary to what some folks think.”

“None of you is stupid,” Levi assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Callie seemed to be avoiding his gaze. “Some folks may not think you’re so smart, preacher, bringing us to live with you like this.”

Levi bent to put his eyes on a level with hers. “As I heard from someone I know, don’t much care what others say.”

He thought he saw a smile tugging at her lips. She had a pretty mouth—pink-lipped, warm, soft-looking.

“You’re here!”

His sister’s cry forced his gaze away from Callie. Levi drew in a breath. He had to get control of these wayward thoughts. He and Scout had bragged about the number of hearts they’d break once they were rich. Well, he’d bragged. Scout had merely smiled dreamily. That had been years ago. Surely Levi was a gentleman now. He’d become a minister. He wasn’t supposed to notice that his new ward’s lips looked as sweet as strawberries.

But he couldn’t help noticing how her eyes widened as Beth approached.

His sister was an acknowledged force of nature in Wallin Landing. Anyone looking at her artfully piled blond hair and frilly pink dress topped by a fur-trimmed short cape would think she had nothing to do all day but pamper herself. The truth was that Beth generally had a hand in anything good that happened at Wallin Landing. Though she was only a couple years older than Callie, she managed the food and lodging for the logging crew, took care of her cabin, helped teach at the school and care for the youngest ones with his sister-in-law Nora and had staked her own claim at the north of Wallin Landing.

Now she advanced on them, hands outstretched as if she meant to gather them all close. Sutter must have seen the gesture, for he beat a hasty retreat to the parsonage with Mica. Callie took a step back as well, as if she would follow.

Beth didn’t give her a chance. She enfolded Callie in a hug. “Welcome, welcome! I’m so glad you’re here! You can’t imagine how long I’ve wished for someone closer to my own age. Dottie’s not too far, of course, but she’s a wife and mother. You and I can’t be more than a year or two apart, so that’s neither here nor there. You must tell me everything about you. I can already see you’re wonderfully practical—trousers must be so much easier to work in.” Beth drew back, beaming as widely as the baby.

Callie stared at her a moment, then looked to Levi.

“This is my sister Beth,” Levi explained. “She lives near the parsonage.”

“Not far away at all,” Beth agreed. “It’s an easy walk. I’m sure we’ll find all kinds of reasons to visit—to share recipes, compare sewing patterns, prepare for Christmas. Oh! Have you read the latest issue of Godey’s Lady’s Book? That pink-striped walking dress would be perfect on you.”

Callie took another step back. “Thank you, but I have a baby and two boys to care for. Excuse me.” She turned and ran for the house.

Beth’s face fell. “Oh, Levi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

Levi shook his head. “It’s not your fault. She’s skittish as a fawn, Beth. You can’t understand what it’s like to live in the gold camps, the only girl surrounded by rough men.”

Beth put her hands on her hips. “No, with five older brothers and a logging crew for company, I couldn’t possibly imagine.”

“Five older brothers and a logging crew who adore you,” Levi corrected her. “I get the impression Callie Murphy has had to kick and fight for everything she has, and she’s taken her share of punches.”

Beth dropped her hands with a sigh. “Then how can we make her feel at home?”

“I’m not sure,” Levi admitted, eyeing the parsonage. “But I promise you I won’t stop trying.”

Chapter Five

Callie shut the door and leaned against it, heart pounding faster than it should. She ought to have known the preacher’s sister would be a perfect young miss. Their family owned a whole town! Was it possible someone like that, all bows and smiles, could be friends with her? She may have kept her family together, but she wasn’t a perfect young miss. She didn’t have recipes. She just threw what she had in a pot. And as for reading a book...

Noise and movement suddenly pierced her panicked mind. Frisco and Sutter were down on the floor, rolling and punching, while Mica sat on the rug to one side, clapping her hands as if encouraging them.

Callie shoved off the door and waded into the fight. “Enough! Both of you!” She grabbed Frisco by the collar and heaved. He broke away from Sutter, kicking. Sutter rolled out of reach.

She released Frisco and pointed to the farthest corner. “Go on, git! You stand there a moment and think.”

Sutter stuck out his tongue at Frisco as his twin slunk away.

Callie pointed to the opposite corner. “And Sutter, you get over there. You have some thinking to do, too.”

Sutter’s jaw tightened, but he loped to the corner and set his back to her.

Callie went to pick up Mica. The baby gurgled a welcome, seemingly as content to be in Callie’s arms as watching the wrestling match before her. Callie shook her head.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked her brothers. “It was bad enough you fighting at the claim. Wasn’t much there you could hurt except each other. The preacher and his family are used to nicer things. They won’t appreciate you behaving like a pair of bear cubs in the spring.”

Frisco sniffed, gaze on the log wall. “Never said I wanted to come.”

“Me, neither,” Sutter reminded her.

“Well, we’re here,” Callie informed them. “And it’s up to us to make the best of it.”

Her brothers’ silence said otherwise.

Cuddling Mica, she glanced around the room for the first time. This was the cabin Adam should have built. The log walls were planed to fit tightly together; the chinking, where it was needed, was firm and clean. She couldn’t feel any breeze coming through the plank floor, couldn’t see an ounce of sunlight peering in except through the windows. And there wasn’t a trace of smoke staining the stone fireplace at one end.

Sutter stood near the hearth, nose to the wall. Behind him was a plank table flanked by benches, and beyond him, marvel of marvels, sat a stove. She’d only seen one before, in a high-price cookhouse in Vancouver. She caught Sutter glancing at the black-and-silver beast as if just as awed by it.

At the opposite end of the room, Frisco stood stiff-backed near open stairs leading up to the loft. Several wood chairs and a carved bench were clustered close by on a colorful rag rug. Quilted cushions covered the seats. Behind them, three windows looked out onto the lake. They had shutters that could be closed against the night, but they were surrounded by red and white curtains, tied back with bows.

Of course.

Behind her, the door opened, and Callie stiffened. Turning, she was more than a little relieved to find Levi alone. He brought in the last pack and her rifle, moving slowly as if he thought she might bolt otherwise. He wasn’t far off.

His smile faded as he glanced from Frisco to Sutter. “Everything all right?”

“Just fine,” Callie told him. “Frisco, Sutter, help the preacher bring in the quilts.”

Her brothers ran for the door, no doubt eager to escape.

“Don’t let them out of your sight,” she warned Levi.

Brows up, he left the pack and gun and hurried after her brothers.

They returned immediately with the quilts, dropping them at Callie’s feet. Then Frisco grabbed the pack with his and Sutter’s belongings. “Where are we bunking?”

Levi nodded to the stairs. “In the loft. Why don’t you go look around while I show Callie the rest of the house? Leave space for me to sleep.”

The last was said to air, for her brothers were already halfway across the room, Sutter’s arms filled with quilts.

“They’re high-spirited,” Callie told him, hearing a defiant note in her voice.

“So was I.” Levi turned his look to her with a smile. “Welcome to your new home. This is the main living area.” He nodded toward the stove. “The door by the hearth leads to a covered walkway to the church.”

Apparently the people of Wallin Landing didn’t want their pastor to get wet. Mica nodded as if she approved.

He turned toward the stairs again, taking Callie under them to where a door opened to another room. “This is where you and Mica will be sleeping.”

Callie ventured inside. The space was easily three times the size of the tent Ma and Pa had shared and nearly as big as Adam’s entire cabin. An iron bedstead rested against one wall, with a wooden chest at its foot. There was even a little table beside the bed with a glass lantern on it. The quilt was purple, blue and white, like waves on a wind-tossed sea, and purple curtains hung at the window. It was fancier than the best hotel room Pa had ever rented for them.

Callie’s throat felt tight. “You sure you want to give this up, preacher?”

His smile was prettier than the first show of color in the creek. “For you and Mica, of course.”

Now her eyes felt hot. Callie blinked against the tears building.

“Will it do?” he asked, head cocked.

Callie could only nod, afraid her voice would betray her.

His smile deepened.

“You’ll probably want your own quilt on the bed,” he said, moving forward to tug at the covering. “Ma sewed this one for me. I can’t believe it made the journey to Vital Creek and back.”

“I can’t believe someone didn’t steal it from you,” Callie said, fighting a pang at the sight of the quilt being bundled up in his arms. “Vital Creek was mighty cold, even in the summer.”

He chuckled. “It was at that. I didn’t bathe for months.” He seemed to recollect himself, for pink tinged his high cheekbones. “If you’ll tell me what you want in here, I’ll leave you to settle in.”

Callie pointed through the door to the pack, rifle and quilts, and he carried them into the room and bowed out. She shut the door behind him. Swallowing, she glanced around again, then her eyes lit on the door latch. She raised a brow.

“No lock,” she told Mica. “Guess we’ll have to shove the chest over the door every night.”

Mica nodded.

Callie ventured to the bed and lay the baby down on it. Mica immediately righted herself, wiggling on the surface as if she loved the feel of her new bed. Was it really as soft as it looked? Callie bent, braced her hands on either side of Mica and pushed down. Mica positively bounced. Something squeaked.

Callie frowned at the noise, but Mica grunted, eyes on Callie and chin tipped as if asking to bounce again. Callie obliged her. Mica collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Callie was more interested in what had caused that squeak. She’d done her best not to share her bed with mice over the years, and she wasn’t about to start now. She bent and peered under the bed. Not even dust marred the plank surface. In the shadowed light, however, she could see what appeared to be a net of metal under the mattress, holding the bed in place.

She straightened. “Well! What do you know about that?”

Mica wiggled, asking to be bounced again.

Callie gave her one more, then set about unpacking. Ma’s quilt, worn as it was, didn’t look nearly so pretty on the iron bedstead, but at least it made the place feel a bit more like home. And who was she to complain? A real cookstove, a room all to herself and Mica and a bed with springs. It was more than she’d ever dreamed of.

There has to be a price.

She shook the thought away. Just because everything good had cost too much on the gold fields didn’t mean she had to pay here. So far, Levi had been good to his word. This was a great deal better than their claim.

Perhaps that was why, when her fingers brushed the smooth shell of her mother’s comb and the fabric of her dress at the bottom of the pack, she hesitated. It was the last dress Ma had owned, other than the one they’d buried her in. Callie had been saving it to cut up for Mica. Maybe there was a better use for it, for the time being.

Maybe it was time she thought about trying to fit in again.

* * *

As soon as Callie shut the bedroom door, Levi drew in a breath. She’d liked the room. He wasn’t sure why that pleased him so much. But he’d seen the tears come to her eyes, the way she’d gazed about as if awed by her surroundings. It seemed all she needed was a little peace and quiet. Surely he could give her that. He’d already convinced Beth to come back tomorrow. He could handle this.

Something thumped outside, followed by a knock at the door. Levi hurried to answer.

His brother John stood there, tall infant chair beside him. John was his closest brother in age, though he’d flourished under Drew’s leadership where Levi had challenged their older brother at every turn. Slightly shorter and stockier than Levi, with mahogany-colored hair and their mother’s green eyes, he had never looked happier since marrying a few months ago.

“Dottie thought you might need this,” he said, giving the chair a push. It rolled forward and bumped against the threshold.

“Is that Drew’s high chair?” Levi asked, eyeing it.

“It was,” John acknowledged. “He loaned it to Dottie for Peter, and I made a few improvements. But Peter’s big enough that he prefers to sit at the table with us now.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable. Though the little boy was Dottie’s son, John had fully entered into the role of father, even before their marriage.

“I’m sure Callie will appreciate it,” Levi said, lifting the wheeled contraption into the house. He leaned closer to his brother. “Listen, John, would you tell the others to wait a few days before welcoming Callie and her family? They’re still accustoming themselves to the changes.”

John, always the peacemaker, nodded sagely. “Of course. If a book would help, I’d be happy to bring some from the library. Culpeper’s Complete Herbal and Robinson Crusoe for the boys, perhaps. The Courtship of Miles Standish for Miss Murphy. That was always Beth’s favorite.”

Courtship? “I’ll pass along your offer.”

With a nod, John strode off, whistling.

Levi shut the door. John was a hopeless romantic, devouring the adventure novels their father had left them. He’d recently finished building and equipping the community library he hoped to open after Christmas. But somehow, Levi didn’t think Callie would be interested in reading about someone else’s courtship. He could only hope it was his brother’s kind nature that had prompted him to suggest it, and not an attempt at matchmaking.

He stepped back into the room and wheeled the little chair over to the table. He could imagine Mica smiling from it. She smiled at everything.

Unlike Callie. Her smiles were so rare that they were like the sun coming out after the rain. What would it take to make her smile more often?

There was a perfunctory tap on the door before his brother James strolled in.

“I saw Lance and Percy from the store, so I thought I’d fetch them,” he announced, glancing around. “Where’s your new family?”

Levi hurried to intercept him before James could wander any farther into the house. “Getting settled and needing a little time to get used to things,” Levi told him.

“Ah.” James wiggled his brows. Though James was older, he resembled Levi the most, from his dark blond hair and deep blue eyes to his slender build and tall height. The main difference lay in their hair. Where James’s was straight and short, Levi’s was longer and curlier. That had always seemed odd to Levi. James was the tease, the jokester in the family. Somehow it seemed as if he should be the one with curly hair.

“Perhaps I should warn you,” he said now. “Rina would like to evaluate the boys so she knows where to place them in school.”

Levi glanced at the empty stairs, already concerned about the silence from the loft. “Give them a day or two.”

“I’d be happy to give them all the time in the world,” James assured him, “but I bow to my wife, who knows far more about educating young minds than I ever will.”

“I’ll speak to her,” Levi promised, taking his arm and attempting to escort him to the door.

“Do you have everything you need?” James asked, resisting and glancing about as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Callie and the boys. “What about a cradle for the baby? Dottie gave us ours back recently.”

“Tomorrow,” Levi said, pulling a little harder.

He thought he heard the squeak of James’s boots against the plank floor. “I could bring you something from the store—an extra set of dishes? More flour? A bear trap?”

“We’re fine,” Levi assured him, straining to wrestle his brother over the threshold.

James planted his hands on either side of the open door, eyes widening as he looked past Levi. “Yes, I can see that you are. Quite fine indeed.”

What was he talking about? He was fairly sure his brother was just teasing him, but Levi couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder just in case.

Callie had come out of the bedroom. Gone were the slouch hat and the rough buckskin coat. Her honey-colored hair was held up behind her by an abalone comb and flowing about her shoulders in waves. The blue printed calico dress was likely too cold for a winter’s day, but it outlined her form and brought color to her cheeks. Or perhaps it was Levi’s and James’s approving looks that made her blush.

She raised her chin and marched toward the stove, Mica waving a greeting from her arms.

“Isn’t it time to get supper started?” she asked with a look to James.

Levi’s brother cleared his throat. “Not until I properly welcome you, dear lady.” He removed his hands from the doorjamb and sketched an elegant bow. “I’m Levi’s brother, James. And you must be the lovely Miss Murphy.”

Though his brother was devoted to his schoolteacher wife, he still went out of his way to be gallant to the ladies, young and old. Another woman would have simpered and blushed.

With one hand, Callie pulled a pan from the rack above the stove. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wallin. If you’ll excuse me, I should earn my keep.” She brought the pan down on the stove with a clatter.

“I thought you brought a ward, not a housekeeper,” James murmured to Levi, brow up.

“We have a few things to work out,” Levi said, and he managed to push his brother out at last.

He closed the door and turned to Callie. For all her bravado, she was shifting from foot to foot as if unsure what to do next. Mica peeped over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose at Levi.

“I thought I’d cook for you,” he said, moving closer. As he passed the infant chair, he gave it a push that set it rolling toward Callie.

She turned as if noticing the rumble of the wheels against the planks. “What’s that?”

“A present from my brothers,” Levi told her. “For Mica.”

The little girl was already reaching out a hand and wiggling her fingers as if wanting to draw the chair closer. Callie tilted her head to study the contraption. “Why? What’s it for?”

“If I may?” Levi held out his arms.

Callie hesitated a moment, then handed him the baby.

He was more sure of how to hold the little girl this time. But it probably wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t been. Mica smiled up at him, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling. Levi gave in to the thought of rocking her a moment, her weight soft in his arms, before sliding her into the seat.

Mica blinked, then shifted as if getting comfortable. Her smile spread, and she set up a delighted chatter.

Callie looked less impressed, eyes narrowing.

“It rolls,” Levi explained, demonstrating. Mica slapped her hands down on the tray in front of her and crowed her approval. “You can take her to wherever you’re working without having to carry her.” He gave the chair a little push, and Mica squealed, bright and pure.

Callie’s hand came down over Levi’s on the back on the chair. “Do not show the twins.”

He had a sudden image of Frisco and Sutter, batting the baby and chair between them. He cast a glance toward the stairs. “I won’t.”

Mica scooted as if hoping to get the chair moving again. He held it steady, trying not to relish the feeling of Callie’s hand warm against his.

“How were they doing when you checked on them?” she asked.

He rubbed behind his ear with his free hand, then stopped when he noticed the nervous gesture. “I haven’t had a chance.”

Callie’s eyes widened, and she released him to back away. “You watch Mica. If I haven’t returned in a quarter hour, send for that deputy. I may need rescue.”

Chapter Six

Levi Wallin had filed a claim he couldn’t pan.

That’s all Callie could think as she lifted her mother’s skirts and climbed the stairs to the loft. He wasn’t sure how to deal with a baby, couldn’t keep his family from overrunning his house.

And he had no idea how to handle her brothers.

Callie shook her head at the sight that met her at the top of the stairs. The loft was one long room, peeled logs bracing a roof that no doubt kept out the rain, with a stone hearth at one end and a window with a shutter at the other. Three pallets and two trunks lay waiting. Perhaps it was the dim light that had inspired her brothers to try to start a fire in the grate.

With what looked like one of Levi’s shirts as tinder.

“Here,” Callie barked. “Now.”

She must have sounded sufficiently commanding, for both her brothers obeyed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

Frisco raised his chin. “Setting up the room, like you asked.”

“It’s kind of cold up here,” Sutter agreed.

It was warmer than the house they’d left. “Where’d you get that shirt?”

Sutter nodded to one of the trunks. “In there.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “He has near a dozen!”

Another mark of a preacher, not that she’d mention it. “And what did you do with your clothes?”

Sutter cast a quick glance at the pack, which they’d left along one wall, the quilts piled up around it.

“They’re fine where they are,” Frisco blustered. “We ain’t staying long.”

Sutter nodded. “We was figuring to head north as soon as the thaw sets in.”

Callie bent to put her face on a level with theirs. “You are not heading north. This is our home now. You want to live out of a pack? Fine. But you take Ma’s quilts, and you lay them on the beds. She didn’t work that hard to have them dumped on the floor.”

He and Sutter both looked to the pallets along the far wall as if noticing them for the first time.

Sutter glanced back at her. “We get our own beds?”

“Looks that way,” Callie said, straightening.

“I get the quilt with the velvet patch,” Sutter yelled, diving for the pile.

Frisco wrinkled his nose. “You can have it. Someone spilled tea on it.”

Callie felt a pang of guilt. They had so few things left from her mother—the dress Callie was wearing, the quilts pieced together from cast-off clothing, the gold ring Pa had given Ma—in promise, he’d said, not only for the many years they’d spend together but the gold he would heap at her feet. Adam had given the ring to Anna, and now Callie kept it for Mica. After all, Callie wasn’t planning to marry.

“I’ll wash it when I can,” Callie said, moving forward to take the quilt from Sutter. “Use another one for now.”

While her brothers prepared their beds, Callie retrieved Levi’s shirt. Fine material, soft under her hands. Did it feel good against those broad shoulders?

What was she thinking?

She wadded it up with the quilt for washing, then escorted her brothers downstairs for supper. The preacher had said he was well stocked for food, though she hadn’t noticed any, come to think of it. She blew out a breath. Another area where he was lacking. Maybe she should go hunting.

She had barely reached the ground floor when the scents assailed her—warm bread and the tang of onion.

“What are you cooking, preacher?” Frisco called, hurrying closer to where Levi stood by the stove, Sutter right behind.

Callie deposited the quilt and shirt in the bedroom before going to the table. Mica had been pushed up to the edge of it in the funny little chair and was waving around a wooden spoon. Every few swipes she brought it to her mouth to gnaw on. Time to feed that baby. But with what? If Levi didn’t know how to hold her, he likely didn’t know what kind of food she needed, either.

“My mother called it rag-oo,” he was telling her brothers now, lifting the lid on a copper pan to give whatever was inside a stir. Callie’s mouth started watering.

She made herself slide in next to Levi instead. He’d wrapped a cloth around his waist; already it was splattered with red and brown dots. She wasn’t sure why seeing him mussed pleased her. “I need to feed Mica,” she explained. “You got anything I can mash?”

“There’s a cupboard built into that wall,” he answered, pulling back the metal spoon. “Help yourself.”

She went to check. Sure enough, two little handles opened to a cupboard so stocked, Callie could only stare. Jar upon jar crammed on the shelves—red tomatoes, purple plums, golden applesauce, blackberry preserves, pearly onions swimming around blood-red beets, dusky green asparagus and brighter green beans. Oh, what she could do with all this!

She grabbed a jar of applesauce and carried it back to the table.

Frisco was already sitting on the bench. “When do we eat?” he asked Levi.

Levi covered his hand with a corner of the cloth at his waist and eased open the oven. “I’d say a quarter hour, by the look of the biscuits.”

“Biscuits?” Sutter hurried to the table and slid in beside Frisco. Mica called her welcome to them both.

Callie’s feet carried her to Levi’s side, her gaze latched on the browning morsels in the oven. “You know how to bake biscuits?”

He nodded, and she almost cried out in loss as he closed the oven door and shut out the sight of the food she hadn’t eaten since Anna had died. “Ma insisted we all learn to fend for ourselves,” he explained. “Cooking, cleaning, sewing.”

“See there, Callie?” Frisco called. “You won’t have to do anything anymore. The preacher’s gonna take care of us all.”

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