Page 7 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

“Y ou aren’t staying to eat?”

Isaac shrugged in response to Drew’s question.

Two days after the run-in with the bear, two days spent pushing cattle into town, Isaac was covered in dust and craving some quiet.

But with the bustling activity in the town square picnic area—farmers and ranchers from all over the county celebrating fall roundup—he wasn’t going to get any peace here.

He caught a sidelong glance from Clare, unloading a picnic basket beside Kaitlyn only a few feet away. Two days of wondering when she’d spill the secret—he hadn’t saved David and Eli—and he was strung tighter than a new barbed-wire fence.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he muttered, turning and heading down the street, weaving through the crowd on the busy boardwalk. A female voice snagged his attention.

“No, it was Isaac. I’m certain that’s what I heard,” said a woman in a prim straw hat, red feathers jutting from the band, her voice dropping to a feigned whisper. “He tried to jilt her at the train station.”

The hair on the back of his neck rose. Clare Ferguson had only arrived in Calvin three days ago, and already the town gossips were squawking.

“But she’s right over there with his family,” the shortest of the women, dressed in bright yellow, chirped and lifted her pointed chin. The group paused to crane their necks in the direction of the town square.

“She’s a beauty. What I wouldn’t give for all that thick dark hair.” The woman’s fingers patted a few thin graying wisps under her hat. The feather bobbed.

Isaac didn’t want to think about Clare’s glorious hair, thick waves flowing around her delicate shoulders.

It had gotten mussed on the trip into town.

She’d let it loose, fingering out the tangles before braiding it into a long rope.

His stomach had stayed knotted the entire time. He blinked the memory away.

“Those her boys? Seems too young to have children that age,” the tallest woman groused.

So, others had noticed too.

“Maybe she was a child bride.” There was a harrumph, and all three continued down the boardwalk and out of earshot.

He’d best not go back to the family quilt. The train was coming in later this afternoon. Drew should put Clare and her children on it. Isaac thought about the activity on Quade’s ranch and near the river. Maybe someone should be talking about that.

Guilt ate at him. Quade was spreading this gossip faster than quilts were multiplying in the patch of green across the street. Clare’s reputation, along with the McGraw family name, was being sullied.

His gaze traveled across the street to Clare again.

A full smile lit up her pretty face as Rebekah stood at her side and introduced her to several of the other ranchers’ wives.

Clare chatted easily with Mrs. Anderson, a local farmer’s wife who’d emigrated from Sweden.

Tilting her head to catch what Isaac knew would be broken English, she laughed with the older woman.

Another genuine smile spread across her face and hit him like a slug to the gut.

He wasn’t the only one affected. Her laugh drew the attention of a couple of young bucks loitering under a tree near the picnickers. A protective instinct welled up in him.

He pushed that down too as he marched down the boardwalk toward the general store. It wasn’t his business who looked at her.

The bell jingled as he entered the store, the smell of fresh-ground coffee, leather, and spices filling the air. The chairs around the black stove at the center back of the long room were empty. A checkerboard with red and black checkers battle ready was laid out on a barrel between two chairs.

Mrs. Hyer stood behind the long counter, her pristine white shirt contrasting with the dark wooden shelves filled with neat rows of canned fruits, vegetables, and meats.

“Good afternoon.” Her eyes flicked to him and then returned to the tall, rail-thin woman in a loose gray dress, purchasing a couple of spools of thread.

Isaac nodded and moved around a trio of barrels toward the back of the store.

Near the corner, he stopped to look at a display of coffeepots on the upper shelves.

On the other side of the narrow store, Jakob Anderson and Mr. Hyer eyed the empty back wall, hands on their hips.

Isaac kept his back to them, but his ears stayed attuned to their conversation.

“Quade’s foreman came in less than a week ago and bought up all my shovels and pickaxes.” There was a touch of bewilderment in the proprietor’s voice. “Made a special order for dynamite too. Enough to blow the train it arrived on to smithereens.”

Dynamite? Isaac’s stomach twisted. His mind ran over the activity he’d seen by the river. What would Quade want with dynamite?

Isaac didn’t wait to hear Jakob’s response.

He dropped the socks he’d been gripping back into the basket and strode to the door.

Weaving through the crowd on the boardwalk, he rushed toward the town square, intent on finding Drew.

As he crossed to the lawn teeming with picnickers—the last place he wanted to be—Isaac scanned the area.

His eyes snagged on Quade, standing on the far side of the green square. The sidewinder’s gaze was on Clare.

Isaac was still looking for Drew when he caught a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye and the faint scent of roses.

“If it isn’t Calvin’s own Swift Draw.” Another Quade.

Isabella, the oldest daughter, appeared before him, donning her charming smile.

“I heard you were back.” She tipped her chin.

Her dark eyes sparked with—unease? Why? The petite, feminine woman had a rod of steel running through her spine and was as headstrong as the stallion she was famous for riding.

“Hello, Isabella.”

“I also heard you killed a bear up near the ridge.”

Isaac frowned. How had that news spread so quickly?

“You might want to be on the lookout for a rabid wolf too,” Isabella said, the smile turning grim.

He studied Isabella’s face. Saw the lines around her eyes now, the tightness around her mouth. Ranchers in the area kept each other informed about the wolf population. They were always a greater threat to the cattle come winter. Had the Diamond Q been losing cattle to wolves?

“Appreciate the warning,” he said.

Heath Quade stepped in close and slid his arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “This guy bothering you?” He shot Isaac a narrow-eyed glare.

“Of course not, Papa. I’ve known Isaac since our school days.”

“Did you know he was in town just a week ago picking up his mail-order bride?” A cunning gleam lit Quade’s eyes. “You marry the little lady yet?”

Isaac’s skin prickled with awareness before he felt Clare’s soft hand slide around his arm. He jerked slightly. She ignored his reaction and gazed up into his face. Her lips spread into a radiant smile. One that made his breath hitch.

“We’ve agreed to take some time to get to know each other before the wedding,” Clare said easily, as if she hadn’t just clubbed him in the head.

Quade’s eyes glittered. “A sensible plan indeed. He’s not with the U.S. Marshals anymore, so he’ll have plenty of time.”

“I told you before, Quade, it’s not your business,” Isaac ground out.

Clare’s fingers tightened on his bicep.

“It might be wise for you to take some time, miss, before you decide to hitch your wagon to the McGraws. They’ve had a bit of trouble lately. Couple of brothers in jail, bouts of illness.”

Poison. Isaac gritted his teeth to keep from shouting. Or slugging the bottom feeder.

“Papa,” Isabella cut in with a murmur. “I see Mrs. Wheaton.”

He allowed her to tug him toward the street.

Quade sent him a final mocking look over his shoulder.

With Quade gone, Clare released her hold on his arm and stepped away, ending her charade. He felt the lack of her touch. The fact that he’d enjoyed her nearness annoyed him.

“When did we decide to have a wedding?” he growled.

She looked up at him through her thick lashes. He was close enough to see she had tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose and a touch of rose in her cheeks.

He inhaled and held his breath, bracing for her next words. A mistake. The scent of apples and warm sunshine invaded his senses and muddled his brain.

“You seemed upset when he confronted you at the train station. I thought I might head him off.”

He was shaking his head at her reasonable words, but before he could demand she stay away from Quade, shouts erupted from near the schoolyard. Above the clamor, Ben’s cry rang out.

“Eli, don’t!”

* * *

Shouts and calls from numerous voices buzzed in Clare’s ears as she pushed through the crowd, Isaac on her heels. Where were Eli and Ben?

The crowd parted long enough for her to see. In the center of the jostling crowd, a hulking man had clamped heavy hands on the shoulders of two boys. Clare’s stomach dropped.

Eli.

His only good shirt was ripped at the shoulder. He wore his belligerence on his face like a shield.

“Let go of him!” she cried out.

“Hold on—” Isaac’s fingers wrapped around her upper arm as they broke through the crowd and reached Eli and the others.

“This your hooligan?” the man demanded. “He started a fight with my boy!”

He shoved Eli in her direction.

Clare caught Eli by the shoulders. Eli threw off her hands and turned to lunge at the boy, but Isaac caught his arm.

“He’s a cheater.” Eli spat the words.

“Am not.” The boy sucked in a swollen and bloody bottom lip. His cheeks bloomed with red blotches. He folded his arms across his chest. His father did the same. A matched set.

Clare’s chest tightened. Eli’s father would never stand with him. Victor would thrash him for making a scene. Her nephew stood his ground, squinty-eyed, arms crossed beneath Isaacs’s hand.

“I saw you.”

Several more curious townspeople joined the onlookers. The whispers and murmurs in the crowd grew and surrounded them.

“You can’t cheat in blindman’s bluff,” the boy scoffed.