Page 11 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

I saac pulled in at the front of the lean-to, the wagon full of supplies for Clare and the boys to move into Isaac’s mountain cabin.

Eli coughed.

Ben whispered, “Is that it?”

What little solace Isaac usually found here was absent with the awareness of the three of them in his personal space.

The isolated cabin greeted him like a sickly old hermit.

The golden rays from the setting sun illuminated the log-and-mud exterior of the cabin that had become worn, dull, and gray.

Loose shingles hung at crooked angles on the roof.

The faded boards had gaps that needed chinking.

And the hitching post had fallen and lay at an angle.

Drew was right. The cabin was in bad shape. How had Isaac not noticed? He didn’t want to look at Clare and see the horror in her eyes. The tips of his ears burned.

He cleared his throat. “Like I said, the cabin ain’t much.”

“It’s fine,” Clare said.

It wasn’t and he knew it.

He pushed the repairs to the back of his mind, lowering himself from the wagon. She might be safer staying down at the main house, but there wasn’t really room for her and the boys. His isolated cabin would keep her out of the sight of nosy neighbors who came to call on the ranch.

The river burbled where it widened into a shallow area here. He’d always thought it soothing, but now the noise roared in his ears. Would the boys be able to sleep tonight?

Clare climbed down from the wagon. She halted, her eyes moving from the cabin to the small clearing with the path that led to the river. She didn’t look dismayed. In fact, she seemed almost giddy, pressing her fingers to her smiling lips as if to hold it in.

“I love the sound of the water.”

Ben scrambled down from the wagon.

“Can we go down by the river?” Ben was halfway to the trail that led to the river before Clare could answer.

“Wait, Ben. Wait for Eli.”

Isaac called them back. “The water can be deceptive,” he said seriously. “It looks calm, but it flows faster than you think.”

Eli frowned and crossed his arms.

Clare glanced toward the river, then back at them with a calm smile. “We can all go see the river together. Let’s unload the wagon first.”

The boys shared a look between them but didn’t argue.

Kaitlyn had sent blankets and canned goods. Drew had sent a couple of cots. Even David had brought up a straw tick from the bunkhouse.

Isaac pulled a heavy wooden crate from the back of the wagon and headed for the cabin.

He set the crate on the floor, using it to prop the door open, then climbed the wooden ladder up to the loft and opened the dirty window.

It might make the cabin chilly come nightfall, but the place smelled musty with a hint of river and soil.

Isaac had been up here two weeks ago, and the rumpled blanket had never been tucked in.

His ma would have been appalled at the unmade bed he’d left behind.

He surveyed the cabin from the loft. The place looked smaller, more cramped.

A fieldstone fireplace dominated one wall, and a black wrought-iron frying pan and a couple of pots hung on hooks above the fireplace.

He didn’t have a stove. Hadn’t minded when it was just him.

But Clare would have to cook over the fire in the fireplace.

An ancient pie safe was jammed in one corner, and a narrow sideboard by the door stood bare, save for a solitary chipped water pitcher.

Good thing Kaitlyn had sent some extra plates and utensils.

Beneath a small rectangular table with turned legs, two chairs huddled, a creation by Ed, the best set of furniture in the room.

But the once-gleaming oak top was suffocating under a thick coat of dust.

Clare climbed into the loft, brushing his shoulder as she skirted around him and placed a carpet bag on the floor and an extra blanket on the bed in the corner.

She straightened the messy blankets and tucked them under the lumpy, worn hay mattress.

Under the window, a small chest containing remnants from his days with the Marshals lay abandoned, collecting dust like everything else.

He thought of the boys sleeping up here.

“I’ll haul that chest down to the lean-to and bed down in there,” he said to Clare.

“The boys want to know what’s in the lean-to.” She sounded far too happy about being stuck up here in this horrible cabin.

“Stall for my horse, some hay,” he mumbled.

Suddenly, he was having doubts about this plan.

“We’ll do our share. I promise.” There were no curtains over the window, and she squinted in the sunlight as she took in the view.

“What a beautiful view.”

He watched her face turn radiant. He couldn’t help but agree with her sentiment. The view was beautiful from where he stood too.

He followed her down the ladder. She marched to the crate he’d left at the door and pulled out a small sack of flour. “I’ll cook, and the boys can help with chores. We’ll get along just fine here.”

Turning, her eyes flicked around the room. Maybe she’d demand he take her back to town once she got a closer look at the rough shape of his cabin.

She brightened when her eyes settled on the fireplace and the cast-iron frying pan.

“It’s just like the one I had at home. It’s no trouble to cook over an open flame.

” She strode to the fireplace, reached for the pan on tiptoes.

To his surprise, she was still too short to take it off the hook.

Her courage and spirited nature made her seem bigger and the cabin feel smaller.

He moved in behind her, reached up over her shoulder, and took it off the hook.

His chest bumped her shoulder, and the cabin shrank more.

He handed her the frying pan.

She smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you.”

He gave her a side-eye glance. She was giving him too much credit for the condition this place was in.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his embarrassment growing.

Ever since the incident with the bear, when she’d taken the shot he couldn’t, their lives had become tangled in a way he couldn’t undo.

“Where’s Eli?” Clare asked Ben as he pulled his boot and dirty sock off.

She glanced at the door, then at Isaac. They exchanged a knowing look. Eli had gone back to being sullen and insolent since Isaac had taken them to town. It’d become worse when they’d decided that Clare and the boys would spend some time with Isaac up at his cabin.

Isaac grunted. “I’ll handle Eli if you can keep Ben occupied.”

Ben was like the puppy he’d had as a boy. Lots of energy and cute as a bug’s ear, but that little rascal could get into mischief.

“Ben and I are going to make supper.” Clare turned and pulled an onion from one of the baskets on the sideboard. Isaac left her to cook and stepped outside.

Eli sat on the stoop, his bony shoulders sagging, elbows resting on his knees. Probably scowling.

“I need your help here. Let’s get the rest of the stuff out of the wagon.”

Eli slowly rose and trudged to the wagon without a word. Isaac followed him.

“Jump up there and push that barrel to the tailgate.”

Eli did as he was told but with too much force—if not for Isaac’s catching it, the barrel would have flown off the wagon.

They eyed each other across the barrel’s top.

The challenge in Eli’s expression reminded him of Ed when they were boys.

The competition between them had been fierce at times, showing up in the little things—who could muck the stalls faster or who could round up the most cows in a single day.

Isaac may have put a little more muscle behind pushing an empty barrel at Ed, but not a full one.

“Let this be a lesson to you. You can push things too far.”

“I don’t need you to teach me any lessons,” Eli muttered back.

“If I hadn’t been quick to react, the barrel could have slipped away and cracked open,” Isaac said. “We need the grain inside. Worse, you could have taken a nasty fall and bloodied up your face or broken a bone.”

Eli lowered his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said darkly.

Isaac’s gut contorted. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you or Ben or your aunt. Not on my watch.”

Eli shot him a venomous look. “You don’t want us here. I heard you say it this morning.”

Isaac’s shoulders tensed, guilt gnawing at him as he met Eli’s gaze. “You didn’t hear the rest of what I said. It’s too dangerous in town, so that’s why we’re here at my cabin, where I can keep a close eye on you, protect all of you. So do your aunt a favor and get those quilts into the cabin.”

Isaac lifted the barrel down and rolled it over to the lean-to while Eli hauled the bundle of blankets from the wagon bed and into the cabin.

Isaac took several steadying breaths. What had he gotten himself into?

He didn’t really know anything about this makeshift family.

He tightened his grip on the last load—a box of mismatched plates, cups, and utensils Kaitlyn had sent—and reassured himself.

This was just a temporary fix. They wouldn’t be here forever.

Clare moved onto the stoop to hold the door for them. Eli slipped inside.

Isaac nodded, walked into the cabin, and set the box on the table. He headed out again to unhitch Bullet from the wagon.

Ben met him by the lean-to. “Can I help you feed Bullet?”

“Sure. I’ll open the sack of oats. You scoop some into the bucket.”

Isaac tossed his bedroll to the ground and settled the horse next to the outer plank wall of the lean-to.

The slanted roof was plenty tall for both him and Bullet to stand, but Isaac moved the chest containing remnants from his days with the Marshals near where his head would rest and stacked a couple of bales of hay between him and his horse.

He didn’t need his sleep interrupted by a horse hoof to his backside.

Through the wall, he could hear Clare humming a hymn.