the widow’s quiet gasp, he pivoted and strode for the exit, not stopping when he heard her order the girls to remain inside. His boot heels thudded across the porch, grew muted when he reached the short grass. The early-summer heat closed around him. Looping Samson’s reins around his palm, he scowled. She sure was desperate. Had to be if she was willing to overlook his disfigurement.
The day his gun exploded in his face, Noah’s life had altered course. In those first days and weeks, he hadn’t known whether or not he’d survive. The risk of infection had been great. As time passed and he began to heal, slowly and painfully, he’d had trouble coming to terms with his new appearance. It had taken even longer to accept that love and marriage were out of his reach. Who could love a freak like him?
These days, he steered clear of mirrors. He couldn’t stomach the sight of the twisted, nightmarish flesh. How could he expect any woman to regard it day in and day out? He couldn’t even grow a beard to hide the damage to his face.
The door clicked shut, and his hold on his temper slipped.
“Listen, lady, I’m sure you’re accustomed to men doing your bidding, but this ain’t Chicago. I—”
All of a sudden, she launched herself at him. “Wild animal,” she exclaimed, seeking shelter behind him, her grip on his arms viselike.
Samson shifted uneasily. Noah dropped the reins and, bracing himself, searched for the source of her fear. When he spotted the rangy black wolf loping across the yard, golden eyes zeroed in on him, Noah’s muscles relaxed.
“That’s not a wild animal. That’s Wolf. My pet.”
Her grip loosened a hair, but she remained pressed against his back, using him as a shield against perceived danger. She peered around him. “That’s no pet. That’s a beast!”
To a city gal like Constance Miller, the Kansas prairie must seem like a wildly beautiful yet untamed land. Made sense she’d be alarmed at the thought of a wolf as one’s pet.
Her vanilla scent enveloped him. Noah hadn’t been this close to a female since before his enlistment. His ma had been liberal with hugs, much to his discomfiture, and his three younger sisters had begged him constantly for piggyback rides about the farm. As they were family, they didn’t count.
Maneuvering around to face her, he gripped her shoulders and edged her back a step so he could concentrate. The top of her head came even with his throat. She had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze, putting her loveliness on full display. Her eyes weren’t an ordinary brown, he noted, but the hue of warm honey. Undeniable intelligence shone there. And indomitable spirit.
“Wolf won’t hurt you. He’s half wolf, half dog. I’ve raised him from a pup.”
Her attention shifted beyond him. “He looks...”
“Intimidating. I know.”
“I was going to say hungry for human flesh.”
“I was just appointed sheriff,” he informed her. “How would it look if I allowed a visitor to our fine town to be eaten on her first day?”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Take my hand. I’ll perform the introductions.”
She stared at his outstretched hand for long moments before laying her palm against his. Noah sobered. Her skin was incredibly soft and warm, the sensation too agreeable for his peace of mind. He focused on how her jewelry felt unnatural and prevented their hands from fitting together.
Turning to greet his faithful companion, he signaled for him to stop with his outstretched hand. Wolf obeyed at once. Resting on his haunches, pink tongue lolling, he awaited their approach.
“He’ll sense my fear and devour me,” Constance muttered under her breath.
Noah fought a rare grin, astounded she could evoke humor in him when little else had these past years.
“Wolf, meet Constance.” Moving their adjoined hands, he allowed the animal to sniff her. He could feel her stiffness, the jolt that shot through her the moment Wolf licked her fingers.
“That’s his seal of approval,” he murmured, studying her profile. “Ready to pet him?”
“Not yet.”
That implied she was staying, and she most certainly wasn’t.
Disengaging his hold, he pointed to the cabin. “You should wait inside while I get ready for our departure.”
“Mr. Burgess, please... Won’t you give us a chance?”
The entreaty in her expression was at odds with her dignified stance. Noah averted his face. Regret and frustration pulsed through him. “You don’t want to build a life with the likes of me. Trust me on this.”
Signaling for Wolf to follow, he fetched Samson and headed for the barn situated directly across from the cabin, a wide expanse of land between them. He didn’t look to see whether or not she’d heeded his command.
* * *
What was she supposed to do now?
Grace remained where she stood as the sheriff and his pet disappeared into the mammoth barn. Her corset dug into her ribs. The numerous layers of undergarments and skirts were heavier and more cumbersome here on the plains. Was it because, amidst the city’s brick and stone buildings, her view limited to whatever street she happened to be traveling down, she didn’t have the crazy urge to throw out her arms and twirl in a circle and race through fields of tall grasses and wildflowers?
Cupping her hand over her eyes, she surveyed the endless prairie. The air here was fresh and earthy. After the hustle and bustle of the city, the quiet was somewhat unnerving. Her ears were accustomed to the clack of horses’ hooves on cobbled streets, the shouts of vendors hawking their wares, the cadence of a dozen conversations. They weren’t accustomed to nature’s music...the breeze rustling through the grass stalks, birds’ cheerful twittering, cattle calling to each other, insects buzzing.
Noah Burgess had carved out a mighty nice life for himself.
His rustic cabin, while not comparable to the Longstreet mansion, had its own charms. The barn and outbuildings appeared well constructed. In fact, the entire homestead looked as if it had been planned in a thoughtful, orderly manner.
Her daughters would flourish here. Grow strong beneath the Kansas sun. Learn to appreciate people based on their character, not their social standing or worldly possessions. Most important, they’d be out of her brother-in-law’s reach. A sick feeling stole over Grace as Frank Longstreet’s coldly handsome features swam in her memory. Frank coveted what had belonged to his brother, and now that Ambrose was gone, there was nothing standing in his way. He was determined to step into her late husband’s shoes. Her feelings didn’t matter. She and the girls were like some sort of trophy to him.
A large grasshopper landed on her outer skirt. Having only seen one on the pages of a book, she studied its fat green body for long minutes before urging it to land elsewhere. Scooping up the bulk of the stiff fabric with both hands, she pivoted and went inside, the opening not nearly wide enough for her dress. If she did succeed in becoming this homesteader’s wife, she’d need a more practical wardrobe.
