wonderful. I can’t begin to tell you the time and the blisters you have saved me.” She took the empty cup, the glass warm against her fingertips from the breadth of his hand. “I suppose you’ll want to wait for my uncle after this.”
“If you think I plowed your garden to get on your uncle’s good side, then you’d be wrong.” He scanned the fields, the wind tousling his dark hair, looking pirate-tough and lawman-strong. “It seemed the right thing to do is all.”
“So the truth is out. You’re an honest-to-goodness gentleman.” Sarah’s heart fluttered. She couldn’t help the pull of warmth and attraction deep in her stomach. “I didn’t know they still existed.”
“I guess there’s a few of us good guys still roaming the earth.” He winked, and the fine smile lines around his eyes crinkled handsomely. Taking a step back and away from her, he tipped his hat so he could scan the sky. “The sun is nearly straight up. I’d best be on my way. I have business in town.”
“My uncle and his family should be returning soon. Would you like to stay for the noon meal?”
“Nothing against you, Sarah, but your uncle and I are not going to be friendly, be it over a dinner table or not.” He gathered the reins and his mare sidestepped and turned neatly, hauling the disengaged plow to the barn.
Every step he took was a powerful one. The way he walked sure could affect a woman. The straight line of his shoulders and the breadth of his back, his lean hips and long trim legs. He had just enough muscle to make a woman feel tingly all the way to her toes. And yet not too brawny so there was an inborn grace to him, like a cougar prowling his territory.
Sarah dragged in a deep breath, but it didn’t chase away the flutter of attraction in her chest or drain the heat from her face. Besides, Gage Gatlin didn’t have the look of a courting man. He was friendly and polite, that was true enough, but he didn’t catch her gaze and hold it with interest like others had done—before they’d met Ella.
And it wasn’t as if she would attract any man’s attention dressed in her work clothes. This morning battling the chickens and finding their feathers snagged in her braid. And now in the often-patched dress she wore only for messy work, a man would have to have extremely poor eyesight to find her the least bit attractive.
Looking down, Sarah brushed a streak on the front of her skirt. She sat on the steps, working at the dirt stain on her dress. It was vanity, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help the embarrassment heating her face.
Twice now Gage Gatlin had seen her at practically her worst. Goodness, there was more dirt on the other side of her skirt. She looked as if she’d been rolling in the garden patch instead of hoeing it.
Land sakes, she did have bigger problems to face than how she looked to a complete stranger. And that it mattered just a little—all right, maybe a whole lot—bothered her. She was a country girl and always would be.
Anyone could see by simply looking that Gage Gatlin was a man of means. Not that he wore a coat and tie like the men in town with fine jobs and hired servants in their large brick homes, but Sarah could see it all the same. It was in the steel of his spine and the controlled confidence that shone in him like a winter sun.
Ready to go, Gage Gatlin returned, mounted on his fine mare. “I’ll see you around, ma’am.”
“Good luck with my uncle.”
He tipped his hat like a man out of a legend. Her heart flip-flopped once—just a little bit—as she watched him ride away. All myth and dream, disappearing into the vast prairie.
And he was far too fine for her.
Sarah looked after him, although there was nothing but brown prairie and a dust plume where his horse had walked. She’d learned long ago that a person often didn’t get what they wanted. So it wasn’t too hard to let the air out of her chest and her wishes with it.
So, what did it matter if Gage Gatlin was not the man for her? There was someone destined for her, someone kind and caring who could look past the five-year-old dress with the streaks of dirt on it and see the real her. He was out there somewhere, and he’d be worth the wait.
What she’d better do now was get back to the house and check on her daughter. Sarah stood and noticed ten naked toes peeking from beneath her hem.
No, it couldn’t be. She blinked, but her bare feet were still there. She wasn’t wearing her shoes. The whole time Gage Gatlin was here, she’d been exposing her bare feet like some sort of strumpet.
Embarrassment burned through her like a grass fire, and she started to laugh. Gee, he had to notice. Laughing harder, she covered her mouth with her hand to keep from waking Ella. See? That’s what she got for being prideful and fretting about her appearance.
A floorboard squeaked behind her. “Ma, is it dinner yet? I’m awful hungry.”
Ella appeared, thin and pale, in the shadowed hallway. Sarah forgot everything, even a man as handsome as Gage Gatlin, as love for her daughter filled her up. She folded the spindly little girl into her arms and held her tight. It hadn’t been that long ago when she’d feared her daughter would not live. “Are you feeling better, sweetie?”
“Yeah, but I wish I didn’t get so tired all the time.” Ella rubbed a fist over her forehead as if her head still hurt.
Sarah pressed a kiss to her child’s brow. “You’ll feel better after you eat. Come, let me get you some dinner.”
“I wanna drumstick.” Ella collapsed in a chair and propped her elbows on the table edge, her blond hair escaping from her braids in a sleepy tangle. “It’s nice with the cousins gone. Real nice.”
There was no denying how difficult times had been staying in this house, but it wasn’t as if they’d had another choice. Sarah slipped the platter from the warming oven. “We’re grateful to them for letting us stay, remember?”
“I know, I know. But do you have to stay here forever?”
“Not forever, baby, but it is hard to say when we can leave.” Sarah kept her voice light, knowing her girl couldn’t understand how tough the world was for a woman alone.
“As soon as our medical bills are paid off, we’ll get our own place. I promise.” Sarah set the plumpest drumstick on a blue enamel plate alongside two big potatoes. “There’s carrot sticks in the covered bowl in front of you.”
Ella found one and crunched into it. “Ma, could it be a house painted white and pretty?”
“We’ll see.” She set the plate in front of her daughter. “Clean your plate, or I’ll have to string you up by your toes from the maple tree.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, and I’d better drink every drop of my milk or you’ll flog me.”
“I’m glad you know how things run around here.” Sarah reached for the pitcher. “Do you feel up to helping me plant the garden this afternoon?”
“Sure,” Ella said around a mouthful of potato.
“Don’t forget the bread.” Sarah set the glass of milk on the table and nudged the covered basket closer.
A
