could beat a mule with a stick or coax it with a carrot. Dani opted for the carrot. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Morgan. In fact, I admire it.”
“Good.”
“Once you see Patrick’s letter, I’m sure you’ll agree with me.”
“Don’t count on it, Miss Baxter. The world’s full of liars. How do I know you’re not one of them?”
Emma thrust herself between them. “Pa loved Dani!”
The man looked Dani up and down, assessing her appearance without really seeing her. Before leaving the train, she’d put on her prettiest outfit, a pink taffeta suit with a snug jacket and ruffled skirt, and a sweeping straw hat that dipped across her brow. The outfit made her feel pretty. She’d dressed for Patrick, not this rude man with holes in his socks.
His eyes darted back to her face. “Men are fools, Miss Baxter. Especially lonely ones. Patrick fit that mold.”
Dani had never felt so insulted in her life, or so alone. Back home, her reputation had shone like gold. No one would have questioned her motives for taking in three orphaned girls. Then again, no one in Walker County, Wisconsin had Beau Morgan’s suspicious nature. Dani couldn’t help but wonder who’d kicked him in the shins.
His eyes focused on hers. “A train leaves for Denver in the morning. I want you on it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll pay your fare home.”
Dani had fifteen dollars in her reticule, enough for a week in a hotel but not much else. Her brother would send money if she asked, but she refused to consider it. She’d made a promise to Patrick and intended to keep it, but she’d also left Wisconsin for a reason. When their father died, her brother had inherited the family dairy. A year ago, he’d married. Ever since, he’d been pushing Dani to leave. This isn’t your house, Dani. It’s mine and Marta is my wife. You need a home of your own.
Dani thought so, too. Some time ago, she’d been engaged to a young man named Tommy Page. They’d been childhood friends, but Dani hadn’t felt any of the excitement she’d expected. Tommy had wanted to kiss and hug, but she’d said no. He was a brother to her, nothing more, so she’d ended the engagement. Dani wanted the right husband, the man God had made just for her. She’d been willing to wait, but her brother had lost patience with her. Against her will, he’d encouraged Archie Weldon to court her. A widower with a bad back, Archie had wanted a housekeeper, not a wife. Lars Jenson, a man who spoke in grunts, had been next on her brother’s list. And so on…until Dani had met every bachelor in Walker County.
Eventually she’d given in and agreed to marry Virgil Griggs. She’d liked Virgil, but she hadn’t loved him. A week before the wedding, she’d broken their engagement, embarrassing Virgil and shaming herself. That Dani Baxter is fickle… She’d heard the talk and been embarrassed and angry. She didn’t have a fickle bone in her body. She simply couldn’t lie to herself or to Virgil, who deserved better than a wife who couldn’t bear the thought of kissing him. Dani had been near despair when Kirstin had mentioned her cousin in Colorado, a widower who needed a wife and mother for his three daughters. Dani had given Patrick permission to write. After three letters, she’d fallen in love with him.
Now he was gone and his wayward brother had the girls and wanted Dani to leave. She simply couldn’t do it, not with Patrick’s letter in her trunk. But neither could she stay at the farm with this man. Her best hope lay in convincing him to leave. Dani wasn’t wise in the ways of the world, but she knew a little about men and carrots.
“I have a suggestion, Mr. Morgan.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a nice hotel by the railroad station. I’m sure you’d enjoy a good night’s sleep.”
His eyes flickered. Either he enjoyed a fight or he was tempted by the comforts of a hotel room. Judging by the dark crescents under his eyes, he hadn’t slept in days.
Dani sweetened the deal. “The hotel has a restaurant. I saw it when I rented the buggy. Today’s special is roast beef with raspberry pie for dessert.”
His mouth hardened. “No thanks, Miss Baxter. Emma’s a good cook.”
Dani doubted it. The child had written about her kitchen foibles. Will you teach me to make biscuits? Mine are rock hard, but Pa eats them and smiles.
A lump pressed into Dani’s throat. She’d trusted Patrick with her life, her reputation. She had no such faith in the man standing in his place. She also had nowhere else to go. She didn’t like what she was about to say, but she had to get Beau Morgan to leave. “There’s a saloon, too.”
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “You want a drink?”
“No!”
“Me, neither.” The corners of his mouth tipped up. “I’m not a drinking man, Miss Baxter. Never have been.”
Was that good news? Dani didn’t know. She wanted this man to be so low that any judge in Douglas County would deny him custody. Instead he sounded like her Aunt Minnie.
He leaned against the wall, crossing his sock-covered feet. “I’m also good at hearing what isn’t said. I’m guessing you have about ten dollars in your bag and don’t know a soul.”
She blushed.
“That’s what I thought.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “I’d be glad to pay your room and board in town, but I suspect you’re too stubborn to accept.”
“It’s not a matter of stubbornness.” She reached for Emma.
“I promised Patrick—”
“I know what you promised.” His voice turned gentle. “I also know what it’s like to be grief-stricken. It leaves you numb, but only for a while. Once the shock passes, you wake up screaming. It’ll eat you alive if you let it.”
Peering into his eyes, she saw a kinship born of suffering. Dani had grieved her mother and still cried for the woman who’d given her blue eyes and wheat-blond hair. Who had Beau Morgan mourned? The connection, as brief as lightning and as bright, frightened her.
If he felt the spark, he didn’t let it show. Standing straighter, he looked ready for business. “If you’re willing to bend a bit, I’m prepared to offer a compromise.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll move to the barn while we sort things out. You get room and board in exchange for keeping house.”
Emma looked up at Dani. “It’s time to start the garden. We could do it together.”
For a thousand miles, she’d dreamed of planting tomatoes in Patrick’s side yard. She loved the feeling of loamy earth and the scent of herbs growing in a window box. She’d imagined flowers, too. Tulips in the spring, roses in June. She had learned from her mother that touches of beauty nourished a family as much as good food.
Her gaze drifted to the hole in Beau Morgan’s sock. His big toe curled as if to hide, then stretched in defiance. “As you can see, my clothes could use some mending.”
“And
