Page 29 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

Her throat burned as she swallowed back the knot rising there. “It’s different for me, Isaac. I’ve done things—things Anne never would’ve even dreamed of.”

“You know Jacob’s story?” Isaac asked gently.

“He was born clutching his brother’s heel, and his name meant deceiver.

He lied, cheated—did plenty of things he wasn’t proud of.

But when God got ahold of him, He gave him a new name: Israel.

A name that meant he’d struggled with God and come out changed. ”

Clare blinked hard, her vision blurring. “You think that’s true for me?”

Isaac’s mouth curved in a faint smile. “I think you’re more than the name you were born with, Clare. And I think God’s got a way of making people new no matter where they came from or what they’ve done.”

Clare set the quilt back on the cot. She faced Isaac, her fingers going to the scar on her wrist. “I just want Eli and Ben to have a chance at something better. Like the life you and your brothers had growing up here.”

“We had a good childhood.” Isaac stepped toward her and stilled her nervous movements with a hand over hers. “But it wasn’t perfect. Pa lost his temper at times.”

She liked having him close.

“You’re good with them. So patient. I want that for Eli and Ben.”

“They’ll have it.” As Isaac said the words, the air seemed to grow charged between them.

She couldn’t keep herself from voicing her hope. “When this is over, will we…” She hesitated. She didn’t deserve someone like him. But she wanted him. “Can we be a real family?”

* * *

Isaac felt the weight of Clare’s question.

He pulled his hand from hers and looked away.

He forced out the words jammed in his tightening throat.

“I don’t know if I can—I honestly don’t know.

” He knocked his hat off with one hand and ran the other through his hair.

He had no idea if he could be what she needed or what the boys needed.

His attention involuntarily shifted to the gun belt and the revolvers lying on the cot.

How was he supposed to protect his own when he couldn’t even make himself strap on his gun belt?

“I understand,” she said softly, but he could clearly see the hurt on her face.

To hide it, she brushed past him and reached into the open chest by the cot. She pulled out one of his old dime novels. “What’s this?” she asked as she let the pages flip through her fingertips.

He couldn’t stop watching her. “Nothing,” he said absently.

Reaching inside the chest again, she pulled out another one. “There must be nearly a dozen books here.” A wry smile emerged on her lips. “Are you secretly an author? What’s your pseudonym?”

He scowled as heat flushed up his neck. “Hardly. Rebekah is the author around here.”

Clare’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

He sighed. “I used to read these kinds of books,” he said as she handed him the book with the cowboy on its cover. He scoffed. “They’re all about some made-up hero who swoops in and saves the day, then rides off into the sunset.” He laughed bitterly, tossing the book back into the chest.

“I knew a guy like that when I was a kid,” he said. “A deputy from town named Sam Nerat. Thought he was a real dime-novel hero. Made such a big impression on me that I made it my aim to be just like him.”

Clare’s expression went soft.

Nerat had been the fastest gun in Converse County. Back then.

“I practiced all the time with my revolver and some cans. So much that Pa got onto me for wasting ammunition. I musta been about fifteen when I came to town with Pa to fetch some supplies. He was busy with the store owner, and I wandered off down the street. Saw a coupla drunk cowhands terrorizing a stray dog.”

He shook his head at the memory of it. Imagining David doing something stupid like Isaac had made him realize how young he’d been. And that Drew had been right about what would come of Isaac’s arrogance some day.

He sighed and pushed the words out. He’d started this conversation. Might as well tell her all of it. “I drew on them. Shot the barrel of one of their guns before they could draw it.” He’d gotten lucky. The man had been drunk enough that his draw had been slow. “Scared them off.”

“And rescued the dog.” She finished the story for him.

He didn’t deserve the soft, admiring light in her eyes. “Few minutes later, when I was walking back to meet my pa, one of ’em came out of nowhere?—”

The drunk had skirted through the alleyway and emerged from behind a different shop. Back then, Isaac hadn’t known to watch for danger lurking in every direction. “Knocked me off my feet. Roughed me up a little, but he didn’t hit me.”

Isaac had been terrified for those few moments.

The drunk had seemed to come to his senses, seemed to realize how young Isaac was. And stupid.

“He let me go, and I went back to Pa. Never said a word.” He’d been ashamed at the time. Drew’s warning words from two years before had echoed through Isaac over and over for the entire wagon ride home.

“I thought if I could work hard enough, prove myself”—he shrugged—“that I could be like Deputy Nerat. Better.”

“Where is that deputy now?”

“I dunno. I saw him in action once.” Reminiscing was easier than talking about his own mistakes.

“Fella walked right up to the stagecoach to rob it. Nerat called him out—demanded he leave town. The robber pulled his weapon right there on the street.” Isaac remembered being enthralled with the drama unfolding even as Ma had tried to drag him to safety.

He’d watched over his shoulder as Nerat had drawn faster than the blink of an eye and shot the outlaw through the heart.

“I wanted to be just like him.” His voice turned to gravel.

Breaking free of the memory, he realized Clare stood just behind his shoulder. Hovering close but not touching him.

“I was—for a while, until my arrogance got Cody killed.” Just like Drew had predicted. “I can’t let anything happen to Ben or Eli.”

Or you.

He heard an unexpected noise. A sniffle. And turned to see her with a wrinkled nose and misty eyes. She dropped her gaze to stare at the belt on the bed. He did too.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “We can have the marriage annulled. The boys and I—we can just go.”

Run. She meant run.

“No!” The instant rejection rang out. Inside him, it felt right. “Won’t solve anything,” he rasped. “Victor will still come looking. And I have to protect my family.”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” she argued. “The marshal can round up a posse. It’s not your job anymore.”

It’s not your job anymore.

Isaac felt that to his core. Another gutshot.

Could he really leave this job? Or was it a calling, like Nick had said?

Something that was a part of him, that he’d never be able to escape.

He’d taken an oath when he’d joined the Marshals.

One he’d vowed to keep to his grave. Same as the vows he’d said to her.

“I meant those vows I spoke,” he said before he could stop himself.

He caught the hope in her eyes, another bullet ripping through him. After all she’d been through, she could still hope.

He reached for the belt and began to strap it on. She grasped the brace of pistols lying on the cot and brought them to him, one in each hand. He cupped his hands over hers. They stood there, suspended in time.

“You are my hero, Isaac McGraw.”

With their hands still connected, he leaned in and kissed her. Saw the sweep of lashes against her cheeks as her eyes closed. The press of her lips was heady and sweet. He kissed her tenderly. Outside, the horse whinnied. Eli’s boots thudded in the dirt.

Isaac pulled back, touched his forehead to hers. He took a second to memorize her flushed face and the way her eyes shimmered with something he didn’t dare name. Lifting a hand, he curled some loose hair behind her ear. “We’d better go.”

She nodded and released the revolvers to him. He only hesitated a moment before slipping them into the holsters at his hip. His family needed him. Clare needed him.