Page 12 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

Ben watched him rearranging, the kid’s interest caught on the chest and its contents. Maybe he should put a lock on it since he stored his pistols inside.

“You sleepin’ out here?” Ben eyed him.

Isaac nodded, a weariness settling over him. He motioned for Ben to give Bullet the bucket of oats he was carrying

“Why?” Ben wouldn’t let it go. He stood hugging the bucket to his chest, waiting for an answer.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Isaac said.

“Why?” Ben persisted. The kid was full of questions.

With a heavy sigh Isaac said, “Because your aunt and I are not married. It’s not appropriate for us to sleep in the same house.” His face went hot. And got hotter when he remembered what it’d felt like back in town when he’d tucked her close to his side.

Ben set the bucket in front of Bullet and watched as the horse eagerly dug into his feed. The boy’s gaze lifted again to meet Isaac’s, his expression filled with the innocence and simple sincerity only a child could muster.

“You should marry Aunt Clare. Then you could sleep with us.”

Isaac almost smiled at the boy’s innocence. He wasn’t going to marry Clare and didn’t want to think about sharing a bed with…anyone. Clare wanted his protection not?—

Beyond the wall, the humming stopped.

“Time to head in for supper,” he said.

Clare had spread her cheerfulness to the cabin. She’d unpacked supplies and set things neatly on the shelves and pie safe. Steam rose from a boiling pot on the stove. The dark oak table gleamed, reflecting the jar of wildflowers sitting atop it.

The table was set. Ben took his place on an empty barrel, while Eli perched on a couple of stacked crates. Clare made a simple fare. Fried ham, boiled potatoes, and cornbread with honey. One of Isaac’s favorites.

“I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m hungrier than a coyote in a drought,” Isaac said, blustering through the awkwardness.

His stomach growled. Clare and Ben laughed. Eli frowned.

A few minutes passed before Eli, who was downing his third piece of cornbread, asked, “Where are you sleepin’?”

Isaac studied Eli, then chewed and swallowed. “I’m in the lean-to,” he said.

“Why would you do that?” Eli asked, not curious but disdainful.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Ben parroted and sent Isaac a crooked smile.

Isaac’s stomach twisted. He hoped he was doing the right thing.

* * *

Clare couldn’t seem to relax even though Eli had finally gone quiet, and Isaac was digging into his food as if he hadn’t eaten all week.

Isaac hadn’t been easy on the ride back from town.

But the glances he’d sent her had been different than before.

She didn’t know how to navigate this new… friendship?…between them.

“David says he’s going exploring first thing tomorrow. Can I go with him?” Eli spoke up, breaking the silence.

A chill ran through Clare as she remembered the bear and the rugged terrain with rocky outcrops she’d seen driving here. Wyoming was very different from the farmland they’d lived on in Missouri.

“We are going to help Isaac with chores first thing in the morning,” Clare said.

She met Isaac’s eyes across the table, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

“I know. But I can get ’em done fast,” Eli put in.

Clare’s gaze flew back to Eli. He was chewing and calculating.

“I don’t want you straying too far from the cabin.” They could run into danger. Like a bear. Remember the bear? She certainly wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.

“David has his own gun. He’s had one since he was my age. Says in the West, ya gotta take a gun with you everywhere you go.” He looked at Isaac. “You got any extra guns?”

Clare’s voice rose. “Eli, you are not carrying a gun?—”

“Pa let me shoot?—”

Clare shot him a warning look that cut off his words. Victor had let him shoot his gun in the air after a robbery. Victor had used his own little boy as a lookout. Thinking about it made the cornbread turn to lead in her stomach.

“Eli, we will talk about this later.”

“I can shoot a gun. Pa said I’m a sure hand,” Eli grumbled, stabbing his ham with a fork.

Clare was the only one who had used the shotgun that had belonged to Anne’s grandfather. They’d only had a limited supply of bullets. She had been the one to hunt to provide food when her brother and Pa were gone. Had Victor taught the boy to shoot when they were outlawing? Her heart squeezed.

Isaac set his fork down with a rattle. He was such a big presence that he made the table feel small.

“Doesn’t matter if you are the fastest gun in the county.

Out here, it’s safer to always have someone who is looking out for you.

Drew would have taught David that, just like he drilled it into our heads.

Me. Ed. And Nick. Why do you think David didn’t leave you the last time you boys wandered too far?

” Isaac kept his voice even, steady patience woven through each word.

Eli crossed his arms and hardened his jaw. Isaac leaned back in his chair, glancing between her and Eli before he spoke again.

“When I was just a little older than Eli here, I was determined to be the best gun in the county. I started going out and finding things to use as target practice, sometimes killing for sport, not for eating or for protection.” Isaac crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes going distant as if he was lost in his thoughts.

“Drew told me to stop. Said, ‘One day your arrogant, cocksure attitude is going to catch up with you. And there won’t be anyone around to help you.’ I laughed at him.

I had my pistols. I didn’t need anyone. Until the day I was out past sunset, and a hungry wolf started trailing me.

I’d used all my bullets save one. I wasn’t too worried.

If he got too close, I’d shoot him. No problem. ”

Clare rubbed her arms. She hated wolves.

She’d never been pursued by one, but their howls at night always reminded her of the ravaging hunger and the desperation of her childhood.

The time when Anne had taken sick and Pa and Victor had been gone for months.

And she, barely a teen, had been left to provide.

“Then another wolf joined him, and another, and another. Until there was a whole pack growling and sniffing behind me.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “What did you do?”

Clare gulped down some coffee, set her cup down carefully, and held her breath, waiting for Isaac’s answer.

“I did the same thing Eli and David did. Found a tall tree and scrambled up it, pronto. Stayed up there almost all night with the sound of the howls running through me.” He paused, letting the gravity of his situation hang in the air.

“It wasn’t my fast gun that saved me. It was my brothers—took all three of them to chase the pack away. They’d been out all night lookin’ for me.”

A faint smile touched his lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Clare saw the way his fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

There was a fleeting look of pain in his eyes before he masked it with a distant stare.

Clare felt that pain, a throbbing ache in her chest as if her heart were being gently squeezed by an invisible hand. She quickly changed the subject.

“We saw some trout in the river,” she said a little too brightly. “Tomorrow we’ll spend time fishing. There’s nothing like fresh fried trout. Eli loves to fish.”

“You ever shoot a man?” Eli ignored her shift in subject.

Isaac’s face went white. Clare glared at Eli. A chair scraped against the wood floor. Before she could say another word, Isaac was out the door.

Clare and the boys did the supper dishes in silence. Eli’s angry defiance still festered in his eyes as they prepared for bed. Blood will tell . Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. Tears never solved anything. Another lesson her father had taught her well.

Clare skirted around the straw tick on the floor of the loft. The boys lay elbow to elbow on top of the quilt. She knelt beside Ben in the cramped space, keeping her voice to a whisper.

“I know this is confusing, but we have to keep up our charade. Everyone needs to believe that your father is?—”

“But Isaac likes us,” Ben piped up, his voice innocent. “He’ll protect us from the bad guys. He was a marshal.”

Eli sneered. “He doesn’t want us here. I want to go back with Pa.”

“You’re lying, he likes us.” Ben jostled Eli, who shoved him back.

Clare moved closer to Eli, seized his shoulders in a tight grip, and gave him a look designed to peel his hide.

“Eli Ferguson Barlow. How can you forget what your father did to you? Worse, what he did to your mother.” She swallowed hard.

“He’s a bad man. And the life they live on the run?

How often do you think you’ll have a warm bed like this?

Or food in your stomach. Who’s going to provide that for you?

Victor? You know better. And what about Ben? Who’s going to take care of him?”

Eli fought to keep his jaw tight, but he couldn’t hide his tears.

“What do you think your father will do if he finds me?” She hadn’t spoken the words aloud until that moment. Hadn’t wanted to face the fear they brought.

He jerked himself out of her grip and turned his face to the wall.

She took in a shaky breath and let out an aching sigh. She had to get through to him. She hated to be so harsh.

She sat in silence until both boys were asleep.

Climbing down the ladder, she sensed Isaac’s presence before she glimpsed his tall form in the doorway.

A new, fluttery feeling formed in her chest, and suddenly it was hard to get a full breath.

She paused with one foot on the last rung of the ladder as the door closed softly behind him.

“Boys okay?” he asked.

She stepped down from the ladder, turned, and nodded, finding it hard to breathe through the sudden tension that settled between them.

“And you, Clare. You all right?”

“Of course” was all she could manage.

“It’s a little nippy out there.” Isaac’s voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat. “I could use a few more blankets.”

“Let me get them for you.” She scooted to the chest under the loft ladder.

He moved to the hearth, stoked the fire, and added a few more logs while she removed a couple of quilts, folding them over her forearm.

“Should last until early morning,” Isaac said, leaning the poker against the stone wall. He turned and stepped toward her.

They’d be toasty in the cabin until the wee hours of the morning. But he’d be in the lean-to with no fire. It’d been a long time since anyone, especially a man, had sacrificed his own comfort for her. She met him in front of the door.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

The firelight cast a warm glow on his face, emphasizing his chiseled jawline and the small dimple in his chin that she found so appealing.

She handed the quilts to him. As he took them, their gazes caught for a breathless moment, and something else passed between them—an undeniable spark, an unspoken understanding that lingered in the charged air of the room.

His lids dropped over his eyes, and he lowered his head.

Without another word, he left the cabin.

As the fire softly popped and hissed in the hearth, Clare settled on the narrow cot, a quilt warmed by the fire tugged around her neck. The boys were safe. No one would find them here. Isaac hadn’t sent them away. Instead, he’d brought them to his cabin.

Her thoughts drifted to the feelings she was developing for the man.

Whatever his wounds were, something about the man resonated deeply with her.

He’d offered her this uneasy truce. She needed to protect her heart from wanting more.

But she was awake far too long into the night thinking about the way his eyes had looked in the shadowy firelight.