Victoria Bylin - The Bounty Hunter's Bride

Feeling his eyes on her back, she led the girls into the ice creamery, then watched through the window as Mr. Morgan neared the attorney’s office. He had to climb a flight of stairs, knock on a door and wait in a lobby. Dani grabbed Esther’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Emma and Ellie headed for the door, but Esther dug in her heels. “I want ice cream!”

“Later, sweetie.”

“Now!”

“Esther, we have to go.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “But you said!”

The child wasn’t being stubborn. She was a frightened little girl whose daddy hadn’t come home for five days. Ice cream promised a bit of happiness. Dani searched her mind for something more appealing, found it and dropped to a crouch, putting herself at eye level with Esther. “Remember Miss Adie and the kittens?”

The child nodded.

“That’s where we’re going.”

Esther tipped her head to the left, then to the right. The choices seesawed in the child’s mind, then hit the ground with a thud. “I want ice cream!”

The woman behind the counter looked over the jars of penny candy with an arched brow. Dani thought of scooping Esther into her arms and running, but she couldn’t risk creating a scene. Besides, they’d lost two valuable minutes. By now, Beau Morgan would be with Trevor Scott.

Straightening, she gave the clerk a wry smile. “I guess we’re having ice cream.”

As the girls placed their orders, Dani turned and peered at the window marking the attorney’s office. Beau Morgan loomed behind the glass with crossed arms and an expression that gave her chills.

“Have a seat, Mr. Morgan.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Beau was tired enough to sleep on his feet, but he planted himself at the window and focused on the ice-cream parlor. The odds of Clay Johnson walking down the street were slim to none, but Beau refused to let down his guard.

He also had doubts about Miss Baxter. Ever since he’d walked into the kitchen, she’d been giving him the evil eye. Her judgment of his character irked him. Time had tarnished his manners, but he’d tried to be considerate. He’d tossed blankets in the wagon for the girls, and he’d bargained with the livery owner for Miss Baxter’s refund. A long time ago, simple courtesy had come naturally to him. So had conversation. He’d gone to church socials and asked pretty girls to dance. That’s where he’d met Lucy. Miss Baxter reminded him of that happy time…and the hard time that had followed. She’d grieve for Patrick as he’d grieved for Lucy. Staring through the glass, Beau watched as she and the girls circled a small table.

Trevor Scott cleared his throat. “I have good news, Mr. Morgan.”

“You’ve found a school?”

“Not exactly. I’ve located another relative, a Miss Harriet Lange.”

“Who is she?”

“A great-aunt on Elizabeth’s side of the family.”

Beau frowned. She sounded old. “Where does she live?”

“Minnesota.”

“It’s cold there.”

“There’s another problem,” Scott said.

“What’s that?”

“She’ll take Emma but not the younger girls.”

The offer rubbed Beau the wrong way. He could see his nieces now, licking ice cream from glass bowls. Each one had impressed him. This week had been the worst of Emma’s life, but she’d stepped up like a grown woman. He’d seen Ellie carrying a bucket of water to her daddy’s grave. He didn’t know what kind of flowers she’d planted, but she’d come to the house with muddy knees. And Esther…she’d never stop sucking her thumb without her sisters.

“Why Emma?” he asked.

Scott leaned back in his squeaky chair. “Miss Lange is an elderly spinster. I assume she wants companionship.”

Or a servant, Beau thought. It made sense, but he knew he’d become cynical. He had a talent for spotting weeds but rarely noticed flowers, even when they filled a meadow. Maybe the woman had a kind heart but couldn’t feed two more children. “Does she have an income?”

“She clerks at a bank.”

A job that paid little money. Beau hooked his thumbs in his belt. He earned top dollar and saved most of it. “If money’s the problem, I can solve it.”

“With the sale of the farm?”

“No, that’s going in the bank.” He wanted the girls to have a nest egg for later in life. “I’ll pay for what they need.”

“It’s generous of you.”

Maybe, but Beau felt no pride. What the girls needed most, money couldn’t buy. They needed a home, parents who’d love them and tuck them in at night. He couldn’t do those things.

Scott shifted in his chair. “If you’d like, I can present an offer to Miss Lange.”

“Do it,” Beau said. “Tell her it’s all three or nothing. If she agrees, we’ll discuss a monthly allowance.”

“And if she says no?”

“We’ll look for a school.”

“I don’t envy you, Mr. Morgan. The situation calls for the wisdom of Solomon.”

Beau knew the story. Two women claiming the same child went to the Biblical king to resolve their differences. When he’d threatened to cut the baby in half, the real mother had given up the fight to save her child’s life. Beau felt the same pressure. He’d do anything to keep the girls together. Anything except stay in Castle Rock. Peering through the window, he saw Miss Baxter wiping Esther’s face with a white hankie. Someday she’d make a good mother. He hoped Harriet Lange would be as kind.

The attorney cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse my boldness, Mr. Morgan, there’s another solution.”

“What’s that?”

“You could raise the girls yourself.”

Beau laughed out loud. “Not in a million years.”

“Why not?”

The duster covered his Colt .45, but the weapon weighed heavy on his hip. Even if he’d felt inclined to settle down, he couldn’t do it until Clay Johnson had taken his last breath. Beau turned from the window and glared at the attorney. The balding man had spectacles, but that didn’t mean he could see. One look at Beau’s worn gun belt should have answered his question.

After staring for a bit, Beau stated the obvious. “I’m not inclined to settle down, Mr. Scott.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You can’t blame me for asking,” the man said. “I knew Patrick well. We served together as elders at the church. He’d want his girls to be raised in Castle Rock.”

“That’s not possible.”

Beau thought of Daniela Baxter but dismissed the idea of allowing her to adopt his nieces. Someday she’d marry and have babies of her own. Besides, what did she know about running a dairy farm? Since he’d been doing Patrick’s work, Beau had come to respect farmers in a new way. The cows had no mercy when it came to being milked on time. Exhausted or not, Beau pulled himself out of bed at dawn, headed to the meadow to fetch the first cow, then milked them one at a time until he’d finished all ten. At night, the cows came to the gate bellowing precisely at five o’clock.

The milking started the day and ended it. In between, the driver from the local cheese factory picked up the milk cans and replaced them with empty ones. Beau had buckets to scrub and horse stalls to muck out. He also had a new field of alfalfa to plant. Patrick’s first field, the one he’d planted seven years ago, would die out in a few years and no longer meet the needs of his growing herd. The cows had all given birth in March. Patrick had kept four heifer calves and sold the rest. The herd needed more forage, so he’d made plans for a second alfalfa crop. Beau had seen the half-plowed field and the seed bags in the barn. After just two days of work, he’d taken his hat off to his brother’s dedication.