to decide which newspaper advertisement to answer.
A tap of footsteps caught her attention. A floorboard squeaked as a man’s heavy gait marched closer, accompanied by the patter of a boy’s. Her attention leaped, eager to gaze upon her son and see how he was doing, but her senses seemed focused on the tall, shadowed man pausing outside the open door to grip the fallen satchels.
Oh, my. His thick dark hair swirled in a thick whirl around his crown and fell to his collar. As he straightened, hauling the satchels with him, muscles bunched and played beneath the material of his shirt. He strode powerfully into the room like a man more suited to the wild outdoors, hefting a rifle at a bear, perhaps. He dominated the room and made her pulse skid to a stop. He looked immense with his broad shoulders and muscled girth. When he caught her watching him, he jerked his gaze away, staring hard at the floor.
“I’ll put these in the bedroom.” The smoky pitch of his tone came gruff and distant. As if he didn’t want to talk to her. He said nothing more, crossing behind the couch, where she couldn’t see him, where his step drummed in the room like a hollow heartbeat. “George, did you want to come along?”
“Yes, sir!” The boy hurried after him, disappearing into the shadowed, narrow hallway.
Mercy didn’t know why her chest ached so much it hurt to breathe. Her husband-to-be was doing his best to avoid her. He was courteous and responsible toward her, but she felt a vast distance settling between them. It felt lonely.
“Pa?” Amelia hopped to her feet with a flat-footed thud. “What about supper? We are gonna have Ma and George over, right?”
“She’s not your ma yet.” His voice thundered from the far room, sounding muffled and irritated. Something landed on the floor. Likely the satchels. “It’ll be best to let Mercy and George settle into their rooms. They’ve traveled a long way. They must be tired, right, George?”
“Sorta.” The boy’s thin response sounded uncertain. “I was kinda hopin’ to see your horses.”
“I have tomorrow set aside for that.” Cole’s tone warmed and he strode into sight with the child at his side. What an image they made. Towering man, little boy. “You want to be rested up because it’ll be a big day. A good day, I promise you that. Besides, I’m going to bed early to be set and ready to go come morning.”
“Then I will be, too.” George nodded, his face scrunching up determinedly. “Will I really get to ride tomorrow?”
“My word of honor.” Cole ran his big hand lightly over the top of the boy’s head, a fatherly gesture. “But there’s more to riding horses. You also have to learn how to take care of them.”
“I know. I’m good at sweeping the steps whenever Ma tells me to. That’s sorta like cleaning a barn. Do I get my own pitchfork?”
“I got one especially for you. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” Cole stepped away, and for an instant a father’s longing flashed across his face. When he glanced her way, the look had vanished. He squared his shoulders, his reserve going up. “Eberta is finishing with the last customer downstairs. When she’s done, she’ll head over to the diner next door. Amelia’s going with her. George can go, too, if you wish. They can fetch your meals, while you and I talk.”
Talk. Her chest tensed up so tightly her ribs felt ready to crack. “I suppose that sounds like a wise plan.”
“Good.” Cole nodded in his daughter’s direction before turning to warm his hands at the stove.
“C’mon, George. Let’s go.” Amelia hopped forward, skirts swishing, and held out her hand. “The diner has the best cookies. If Eberta is in a good mood, and something tells me that she might be, we can talk her into getting us dessert.”
George quietly took the girl’s hand, hesitating to glance across the room. Mercy recognized his worried look, so she nodded reassuringly, letting him know it would be all right.
“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” she told him, her good boy. He blew out a breath, perhaps shrugging off his anxiety, and took Amelia’s hand. The two trotted off, Amelia chattering away, as if determined to make them friends.
The room felt lonelier without the children in it, with only the two of them and their marriage agreement. Mercy’s palms grew damp as the silence stretched. She didn’t know if she should stand up and join Cole at the stove or continue to wait for him to speak. Since she wasn’t a meek woman, she scooted farther up on the cushion, poised on the edge of it and studied the man with his back to her, rigid as stone.
This wasn’t easy for him, either. That realization made it easier to break the silence.
“George already adores you.” She folded her hands together, lacing her fingers, staring at her work-roughened hands. “Thank you for being so welcoming to him, for being everything you promised in your letters.”
“Why wouldn’t I keep my word?” His tense back went rigid. His wide shoulders bunched. Then he blew out an audible huff of breath. “We agreed to be honest with one another.”
“We did.” She could sense an old hurt in the air, maybe something from his marriage. Heaven knew she had issues from hers. “Amelia is delightful. Everything I knew she would be.”
“Even rambunctious?” A slight dollop of humor chased the chill from his words.
“I suspected from her letters that she had a zest for life.” Slowly, she stood. Uncertain, she bit her bottom lip, wanting to reach out to the man, to her husband-to-be. “I was less certain what you would be like from your letters, although I read so many of them.”
“Likely I disappoint.” More of that humor and something else, something that seemed to make the shadows in the room darken, creeping ever closer.
“No, I may be the disappointment.” She brushed at a wrinkle in her wool dress, hoping he hadn’t noticed the fraying hem she hadn’t been able to mend on the train. “I wasn’t prepared for you to be so prosperous. And, well, I’m—”
“Just what Amelia needs,” he interrupted firmly, turning to face her. Resolute, confident, certain. Muscles jumped along his set jaw. “I learned a lot about you from your letters. You are honest and loyal—you worked hard for your son. You are unselfish enough to endure a marriage to a stranger for his sake.”
“Endure?” Her voice wobbled, betraying her, letting him know how difficult this really was. “That rather sounds like a jail sentence.”
“I didn’t mean it to be.” Part quip, part serious. Sadness eked into his gaze, darkening his eyes to a night blue, as if all the light had drained from the room. He shrugged one capable shoulder. “Maybe we can come to an agreement so we both won’t be disappointed. Rules to live by, that type of thing. We’re going to be bound together in this life. Don’t know why we can’t make it tolerable.”
“Gee, now I’m really excited about marrying you.” She smiled, and her gentle teasing softened the stony cast to his face. He broke into a half smile, and the lean planes of his cheeks creased into manly crinkles. He had dimples. Who knew? Mercy grinned back, feeling a little fluttery. Not only did her new fiancé have dimples, but he was handsome.
Very, very handsome.
“That’s what I want to
