continued working steadily throughout the afternoon. But his disobedient thoughts kept harking back to Becca—the way she spoke so gently and kindly to the children, the way she smiled at him.
He paused, a hammer dangling from his hand. His experience warned him that the children’s future would be unlike this visit here. How happy would they be? At least the teacher would give them a home. He could only hope—and perhaps, pray—they would find much more in her care.
Marie stepped into the room and smiled up at him. “Miss Becca says to come for supper.”
Colt hesitated. Was he only making things worse for her and Little Joe by accepting Becca and her pa’s kind invitation? But what could he do? He’d given his word.
His choices were either stay and guard his heart, or leave and break his word—and likely two tiny hearts. Really no choice at all. He followed Marie into the store.
Becca stood in the doorway, favoring them all with a shining smile. “It’s ready and waiting. Marie helped with the potatoes.”
“Well, then.” Macpherson rubbed his hands together. “We’d best see if she did a good job or not.” He nodded at Colt. “Come along.”
Colt’s feet felt like lead and his heart clenched with a well-developed caution, but how could he refuse with Marie looking pleased with herself and Becca smiling a welcome? It wasn’t as if her father seemed reluctant. Maybe he should accept this blessing for now. Then he would go back to being Colt Johnson, a loner half-breed.
“Let’s taste those potatoes.”
He scooped Little Joe into his arms and followed after Marie and Macpherson. The warmth of the room, full of savory smells, welcomed him as no other meal had. Only he knew it wasn’t the room or the scents. It was Becca’s smile.
Simply the politeness of a well-bred woman, he reasoned. No need for him to think it meant anything else.
They sat down and waited as Macpherson said grace, then Becca saw to passing the food around. A richly flavored pot roast, boiled potatoes in odd clunky shapes, gravy and turnips.
Marie watched him carefully as he took a scoop of the potatoes and poured on gravy.
“Yum. These are the best potatoes I’ve ever had.” And they were. He understood it had nothing to do with the flavor of the food, but everything to do with two pairs of eyes—Becca’s blue ones and Marie’s black—observing him. As if his opinion mattered a great deal.
He tried in vain to bring his thoughts into rational order, but they tripped along their merry path, undeterred by his silent warnings.
He pushed aside the mental warfare to address the eager-eyed child. “You did a fine job, Marie.”
She wriggled with pleasure and turned to Macpherson for his opinion.
“I do believe Colt is right. Best potatoes ever.”
Marie practically glowed, and Becca looked as pleased as if she had received the praise herself.
A most generous woman. A very unusual woman. He couldn’t see her fitting in back east, though his only way of judging that was through the people he’d met from that direction. Mostly stiff, judgmental individuals who saw Colt and those like him as oddities, or much worse.
His skin tightened as he recalled the name a pair near the fort not so many days ago had applied to him. Dirty savage.
The meal over, he sprang to his feet to walk to the window. Marie scampered from her chair and insisted on helping with the dishes.
He listened to Becca instructing her, sweetly and patiently. Kindly.
“It’s dark already.” He hoped forcing his thoughts to the outdoors would eliminate any possibility of thinking of things he shouldn’t be.
Becca hung the towel and came to his side to look out into the night.
“Look at all the stars. They’re so beautiful. I wonder if it was like this the first Christmas night.”
He forced his gaze to remain on the scene through the window. It took supreme effort not to look at Becca. But even without seeing her, he pictured her starry eyes and beaming smile.
How was he going to get through the next few days without letting her sweetness shatter the protection he’d built around his heart?
Chapter Five
Becca barely contained her desire to dance across the floor. Christmas at home with her pa, Colt and the children. If she never got another Christmas present in her life, she would die content with this one.
She couldn’t stop grinning as her mind twirled with plans. But her joy stuttered as she watched Colt retreat to the far corner and hunker down beside the kids. She guessed it wasn’t a desire to play with them that took him there, but why did he act as if staying would be an ordeal?
Well, she’d prove to him it wasn’t. She’d make this the best Christmas ever for him, too.
She waited until the children curled up on their mats and fell asleep to signal Pa and Colt to the table. “Let’s make plans.”
Colt leaned back as if he wanted no part of this. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“What would you normally do?” She hoped he’d share a special memory.
He blinked hard then grinned. “Normally I would ride out to the prettiest place I could find and enjoy nature.”
“Alone?” She sounded as shocked as she felt.
“Nature is the best company I know of.”
She tilted her chin upward. “I intend to prove you wrong. We’re pretty fine company, aren’t we, Pa?”
“Your ma seemed to think so.”
Becca’s smile slipped at the mention of her mother, then she dismissed any sadness and regret. She’d been offered a reprieve. Even if it was only temporary, she intended to make the most of it.
“You must have done something fun and special during Christmas. After all, you’re—how old are you?”
“Near as I can figure, I’m about twenty-one.”
Near as he could figure? Didn’t he know anything for certain about his past? “There you go. In twenty-one years you must recall something special.”
His jaw tightened and he looked stubborn. She wondered if he meant to deny any such knowledge, then he gave a little chuckle.
“I was once given a wild, rank horse. I expect it was more of a joke than any kindness, but by spring I had a mount that many a man envied.”
She sighed in a way meant to be long-suffering. “Not exactly the kind of thing I think would be useful in planning Christmas for the children. I have a few ideas, though.”
She turned to Pa. “With your permission—”
