Page 4 of A Steadfast Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #2)

N o one was home.

Kaitlyn eyed the scratched-up door she’d hoped someone would open. One of its hinges must need tightening since the door drooped to one side. Hollyhocks straggled here and there at the front of the house. Someone had cared enough to plant them at one point in time. They just needed a little coddling.

“Who are you?” a young voice demanded from behind her.

Kaitlyn spun, the porch boards shifting beneath her feet.

Two girls and a boy watched her from the bottom of the steps. The suspicious question must have come from the middle child. She stood in front, her hair in a single braid that hung over her shoulder, her grimy hands on her denim-clad hips. Did all females wear pants in the West? No, she’d seen plenty of women in dresses on the train and at depots.

“Jo, where are your manners?” The older boy nudged his sister. His mud-spattered pants ended two inches above his ankles, and the muck on his boots had a suspicious odor. The youngest child stood next to him, wearing a too-short dress that was stained and in need of a wash.

Misgivings swamped her. Were these ragamuffins her soon-to-be charges? The lace at the neckline of the blouse she wore under her tweed jacket seemed to mock her desire to fit in.

The middle girl shoved her brother. “Don’t you talk to me about manners, David McGraw. Anyone can see she don’t belong here.” Jo strode toward the steps and Kaitlyn.

Her brother, a head taller, rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind, hoisting her off her feet while staying away from her flailing legs. “Don’t matter who she is, Jo, exceptin’ she’s our guest.”

His sister’s elbow found his stomach. He flinched but kept her feet off the ground.

Uncertainty plagued Kaitlyn. These brawling children belonged to Drew McGraw?

She swallowed hard as she turned to track their tussle. She had survived Michael. She could survive three pint-sized hooligans.

She took a step forward, and her skirt rose nearly to her ankles, as if snagged. Cheeks heating, she snatched the fabric of her skirt and gave it a good tug.

She met the guileless brown eyes of the youngest, who must have slipped up beside her while the other two wrestled. “I’s just checking your shoes.”

Kaitlyn could barely hear the girl’s voice over a dog who had joined the two older kids and added loud barks to the melee. “My shoes?”

“You must be a princess, so I wants to see if your shoes are glass.”

Kaitlyn smiled at the little girl, then glanced around to make sure she was alone with the kids. She raised her skirt just enough that her shoes showed.

The little one touched the toe of Kaitlyn’s shoe. “It’s leather, just like mine. Why isn’t it glass?”

“Don’t be dopey, Tillie. She’s not a princess.” Jo had escaped from her brother and marched up the stairs. David followed close behind.

“She is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is too.”

Tillie parked her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out at her older sister. Jo lunged for Tillie, who backed into Kaitlyn’s legs.

Kaitlyn couldn’t control a flinch at the noise and turmoil surrounding her, but she forced a steadying breath, then lowered her skirt back to its full length. Mr. Quade had underestimated this crew. Wild didn’t begin to cover it. She placed the ad and letter on top of the saddlebags by her feet. The letter that hadn’t said anything about his children being this boisterous.

Then again, he’d probably exchanged more than one letter with Leona. Maybe he’d been open with her in previous exchanges. At least he’d had the good sense to leave once he’d met his supposed bride in person. Mean-spirited was the kindest description she’d ever heard applied to Leona.

Crowded, Kaitlyn took a step back, but the kids followed her, pushing in too close.

“Have you gots a magic wand in there?” the littlest asked, her fingers fiddling with the buckle on Kaitlyn’s bag.

David grabbed his little sister, his arms brushing Kaitlyn’s skirt as he pulled her back. “Sorry, Miss. You know better than to go through other people’s things, Tillie.”

Enough.

Kaitlyn put two fingers between her lips and whistled long and loud.

The children gaped at her, and Kaitlyn took advantage of the silence. “I’m here to speak with your father. Where is he?”

Ignoring her question, Jo crossed her arms over her chest. “How’d you do that? Can you teach me?”

“Kids, quiet.”

The deep voice behind Kaitlyn had her spinning in place. Her cheeks burned. Even her ears felt hot. Was this Drew? He seemed young to have three children, and his hair was lighter than theirs, but his stance made it clear he expected them to listen. Had he seen her raise her skirt? She straightened her shoulders.

The man smiled at her, the expression reflected in his dark-brown eyes. “Drew is out on the range, but he should be back soon. David, Jo, Tillie, why don’t you ask our guest inside?”

“Unca Nick!” Tillie ran to the man, then pointed toward Kaitlyn. “She’s a princess, but she’s disguise-ed, ’cause her shoes aren’t glass.”

Uncle Nick. This must be Drew’s brother. Younger brother, by the looks of him.

Nick scooped Tillie up and grinned at her. “If she’s in disguise, we can’t call her Princess. Wouldn’t want the evil stepmother to find her.” Nick glanced her direction, the humor in his eyes contagious.

Tillie raised her hand to her mouth. “I sorry, Princess—I mean, Miss. She won’t find you here. Pa won’t let her.”

Kaitlyn felt a pang of wistfulness at the certainty in the statement.

Nick put the little girl down and gave her back a gentle push to get her moving. “Okay, crew, inside—no, not you, David, not until you take those boots off. Get cleaned up. Supper’ll be ready soon.”

The girls bolted inside, leaving two sets of muddy tracks behind them. David followed once he had removed his foul-smelling boots. Footsteps thudded as they scampered upstairs. If Kaitlyn stayed, those imps would be her responsibility. Could she handle it?

She took a deep breath. Her only other choice was Brian. That was no choice at all.

Nick nodded toward the door. “Nick McGraw. You look like you’ve been traveling awhile.”

“I have.” Kaitlyn shored up her slumping shoulders. “All the way from St. Louis.”

Whatever warmth she’d seen in his welcome, it disappeared instantly.

“You head on in. I’ll find Drew.”

Nick leaned over to grab her things. He crossed the parlor and dropped her bag just inside the dining room. At least it was away from the mud the children had tracked in. He said nothing more but kept walking through the house, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. A door opened and closed in the back of the house.

Kaitlyn’s heart sank into her not-glass shoes. She didn’t understand why Nick’s welcome had changed. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping into the parlor. At least, she thought it was a parlor. Mud-smeared coats sprawled over the chair closest to the door. Pieces of tack better suited to the barn were piled beside the fireplace. Dirty footprints marked paths on the floor. A sofa faced the front door and divided the parlor from the dining area, which had a large table with chairs on one side and a bench on the other. It didn’t have any dirty dishes on it but desperately needed a wipe.

A door opened and closed upstairs, reminding her that the children were still inside.

Kaitlyn hovered near the dingy window, watching as a tall man in a dark hat rode into the yard. Was this her intended groom?

There was some kind of bundle across his lap. Nick approached him, his arm gesturing toward the house. Drew shook his head. Nick gestured some more. What was he saying?

The man dismounted and handed his reins to his brother, who placed a hand on a bundle still slung across the saddle. Nick headed to the barn, and the rider—Drew?—approached the house.

Kaitlyn scurried away from the window. Wouldn’t do to have his first impression of her be as a nosy Nellie. Should she sit? Stand? Her etiquette lessons hadn’t come close to covering this. Her hands ached. She unknotted her fingers and forced her shaking hands to her sides.

The man flung open the front door while she was still deciding, and she turned to face him, standing halfway between the sofa and window.

“Miss Fitzsimmons, we have nothing more to say. I can’t imagine what you’re doing here—” His thundering voice stopped abruptly as he reached the doorway. “Who are you?”

Oh, he was handsome. Or would be if he were smiling. Dark hair peeked out from under his almost-black cowboy hat. He was taller than Michael, his shoulders wider. His eyes were the color of pewter and equally cold. A shiver passed through her. He was inspecting her with the same expression she might use when looking at a bug that had crawled onto her dinner.

She bit her lip. “Are you Drew McGraw?”

He nodded, remaining framed in the doorway.

He’s only a man. One who needs my help . Kaitlyn pushed away the trickle of unease that wanted to become a flood. No matter how strong he appeared, his letter had made it clear his children needed a mother.

She swept a look up—way up—to his face, then back to his feet. His shirt and pants were wet in places and stained red in others. Was that blood? And why didn’t he move?

“Who are you?” His deep voice had softened, but retained an edge of annoyance.

“Um, you see…” Kaitlyn clutched the back of the chair by the fireplace. Her pulse raced. Where were all her fine arguments? She’d practiced this moment for three days on the train, but none of the polished phrases returned to her mind. “This isn’t going how I planned.”

“Plan? What plan?”

Finally, he strode across the room and stopped by the fireplace. His presence seemed to shrink the room.

“What are you doing here?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“My name is Kaitlyn Montgomery.” Footsteps sounded overhead. The children. She lowered her voice. “I’m here to answer your ad. For a mail-order bride.”

For a moment, his only movement was a muscle twitching along his jaw. Then his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the children pounded down the stairs. Tillie ran to Drew and threw her arms around his legs. “There’s a princess here, Pa, ’cept, we’re not s’posed to say that, cause she’s running from the evil stepmother. But you’ll protect her, won’t you, Pa?”

Kaitlyn’s gut plunged. The girl had said the words with pure innocence. She couldn’t have guessed how close her assessment was to the truth.

David and Jo lagged on the last stair, watching.

Drew gave Kaitlyn a dark look before he reached down and disentangled his daughter. “Why don’t you take our visitor into the kitchen for a cup of water.”

The smile he gave Tillie gentled his expression, but Kaitlyn’s jitters didn’t ease. After all, he hadn’t smiled at her. Hadn’t responded to her statement. And now he was sending her out of the room.

Tillie took Kaitlyn’s hand. “Come on, Princess. The kitchen’s this way.”

Kaitlyn followed the little girl past the dining table and chairs and into the kitchen.

She could hear Drew’s voice behind her. “I brought a new calf down. Nick is in the barn and will need your help with it. Her mama didn’t make it.”

Kaitlyn felt a burst of compassion as she followed Tillie to the counter where a bucket and dipper rested. There was a murmur of voices from the parlor and then an exclamation from David.

“No! Curly’s not dead!”

“I’m sorry, son. We gave her a good?—”

“She can’t be dead. Why didn’t you do something to help her?”

Tillie tugged at Kaitlyn’s skirt. She had a dipper of water in her hand, her lip caught between her teeth.

Kaitlyn took the dipper from her, took a sip, and replaced it in the barrel. “Who was Curly?”

In the other room, a door opened and slammed shut.

Tillie’s lip trembled. “She was David’s special cow. Do cows go to heaven like my mama did?”

So Drew was a widower.

Kaitlyn knelt down to face the girl. What should she say? What had her mother told her, back when her pony died?

“I don’t think anyone knows for sure, but we know God loves all His creation, and we can trust Him to do what’s right.”

The words hit with a force they hadn’t had when Kaitlyn was nine. She’d trusted God and He’d taken Mama. Kaitlyn had been left with Michael trying to control her every move, plotting against her. She’d had no choice but to take care of herself.

Tillie stepped back with a sniffle. “I better go check on the calf.” Before Kaitlyn could protest, she skipped out the back door, her skirts flying behind her.

Kaitlyn hesitated. Nothing about her arrival had gone as planned. She hesitantly moved into the doorway to the front room. There was no sign of David or Jo. Drew sat at the dining room table, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped.

As if he sensed her presence, he straightened and then stood up. His expression was stony. No hint of the smile he’d given Tillie.

* * *

Drew just wanted this day to end. He wanted his pillow and the relief of the oblivion of sleep. For a few hours.

I’m here to answer your ad.

Drew reached for his hat brim to pull it lower, but of course he’d left it on its peg by the door. Without it, he’d have to work harder to hide his expression. He ran his hand through his hair, eyeing the woman standing in the kitchen doorway.

A princess . Tillie’s words whispered in his head. The woman across from him really did look like she’d wear shoes made of glass.

She was pretty, with her blonde hair and green eyes, but it only took a glance to know she lacked staying power. It was there in the fine cloth of her dress that wouldn’t stand up against ranch work. The fair skin that would burn under the sun.

And he hadn’t missed her inventory of his clothing when she’d first seen him. Just what he needed. Another finicky city girl. Within four years of their returning to the ranch, Amanda had left him for a man who’d promised a life together in Boston. This Kaitlyn didn’t look like she would last four days.

He was too tired to be polite. “There’s nothing for you here.”

She blinked and glanced to the side. He waited for the waterworks or some other kind of manipulation. Something Amanda would’ve done.

He just wanted this woman out of his house. He’d given up on the idea of a wife.

After a long moment, she met his gaze again. This time she didn’t look away. “Your children are wild.” She winced, like maybe she hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but then hiked her chin up stubbornly.

“This is the West. Things are different than you’re used to.” He didn’t try to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Kaitlyn met his gaze steadily. “Not that different. Another year or two and your older daughter will be ostracized for wearing pants.”

Was that the problem with the girls at church? Jo’s pants? Then why didn’t she wear the dresses she had?

“If your son needs tutoring in math and reading, I can do that too. As well as teach the girls.”

“What are you talking about? How’d you get here, anyway?”

She bit her bottom lip, then pulled some papers from her saddlebags and handed them to him. “I think these are yours.”

His face flushed as he thumbed through them, an echo of the humiliation he’d felt back in St. Louis growing. “Where did you find these?”

“Where you left them. At the train station, with a ticket attached.”

“You read my mail?” He walked to the window, breathing deep, trying to quell the anger he felt. So what if she knew what’d happened in St. Louis? It was Leona’s shame, or should be.

Her cheeks had pinked, but she still didn’t drop her gaze. Stubborn , he thought again.

“I did.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say you came a long way for nothing. I don’t aim to get married.”

She bit her lip. “I can’t change your mind? What about—I can pay you.” She took a deep breath. “When I marry, I’ll have access to some money.”

Irritation poured through him. Another heiress thinking she could buy her way out of whatever had brought her here. Like Leona. Like Amanda. Well, not this time. Thoughts of his family’s legacy had him considering it for a broken moment. But he didn’t need money badly enough to shackle himself to another helpless city girl. To be labeled a mistake in another rich woman’s life.

Through the window, he saw two horses coming off the foothill. Isaac and Ed. They’d need help when they tackled the butchering.

This was the real life he lived here. Amanda had refused to help with terrible jobs like this. Surely this young woman would too.

He pivoted and caught her gaze. “You want to prove you belong here? Come help with the butchering.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

She followed him out to the barn. Brief introductions to his brothers followed, and Nick mentioned she’d ruin her clothes. David was sent to the house to fetch one of Drew’s shirts. Kaitlyn put it on over her suit.

Drew thought it made her look like a child playing dress-up. In fact, it reminded him of the time Tillie had put on one of David’s shirts. It had dragged the floor, and she’d pretended it was a gown, twirling and spinning as if she were at a ball.

The last thing he needed was a supposed princess reminding Tillie of unrealistic fantasies.

Kaitlyn stared at the carcass his brothers had hung from the ceiling. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her face had gone pale, but she asked, “What do I do first?”

She didn’t back down, not even when she turned green in the lantern light. She stayed with the men through the entire process, from removing the hide to splitting the carcass, even helping split it into smaller sections. When Tillie came to tell them that the stew Nick had assembled and left Jo to watch was ready, Drew insisted Kaitlyn accompany Nick and the kids back to the house to eat. He didn’t miss the brief flash of relief that crossed her expression. Or how quickly she vacated the shed.

She was more stubborn than he’d expected.

But she still couldn’t stay.

Darkness had fallen before he and Ed finished the butchering. By the time he’d eaten the plate of food warming on the back of the stove and been upstairs to help settle the girls in bed, the rest of the house had emptied. David had been sent to join his uncles in the bunkhouse. His son hadn’t spoken to him since he’d broken the news about Curly.

Where had their unannounced guest gone?

She wasn’t in the parlor. He moved through the kitchen, idly noticing his bloodied clothes were gone from where he’d left them by the back door.

There was a rustling noise coming from the lean-to. He headed that way but stopped short in the doorway.

Kaitlyn knelt over a washboard, rubbing his shirt across it.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” His words emerged sharp, an uncomfortable feeling twisting in his belly.

She didn’t look up. “You didn’t. But the stain will set if it’s not taken care of. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Taken care of.

Slow warmth spread through him. It’d been a long time since someone had thought about whether he was tired and needed his bed. Amanda had often left the kitchen a mess and been fast asleep when he’d come in after a long day of work. She’d claimed the work too much for her.

He blinked those memories away. “I’m not looking for a wife. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

She scrubbed his shirt up and down the washboard once, twice, before she let it drop into the water and looked over her shoulder to meet his eyes. “Do you need someone to take care of the kids? Your ad said you did.”

No . He didn’t. Not anymore. But the words stuck in his throat.

When he didn’t answer, she tipped her face down to the washtub. “My brother is an unkind man. He tried to force me to marry someone…unsuitable.”

There was something more behind the words. Earlier, she’d tried to out-stubborn him, staring with her chin tilted just so. But now, in the quiet and shadowed room, she didn’t look at him. Trying to hide the vulnerability? Was this the real Kaitlyn?

“So you ran away?” he asked.

“I didn’t have a choice.” She found another item of clothing and squeezed water from it.

There was a resignation in her voice that he understood all too well. He leaned against the doorframe. “Clearly, I need help with the house and kids.”

He’d taken a look around earlier, seen the house with fresh eyes, as Kaitlyn must have seen it. When had things gotten so bad? It needed a deep cleaning and someone to stay on top of the clutter and accumulating dirt, but when would he or his brothers find time for that?

And the kids.

Tonight, when he’d tucked Tillie into bed, her hair had been tangled beyond his ability to tame it. Kind of like his life.

Kaitlyn looked up now, a hint of her earlier stubbornness in the way her lips pressed together. “What if we can help each other?”

She was a complete surprise. Showing up like she had. Pitching in to help. With the butchering and with dinner—Nick had told him in a low voice that she’d charmed Tillie into eating her supper and taken it upon herself to clean up after.

There was too much work to go around. Too little of him. She’d been right about the children’s education, about Jo growing up before his eyes. It was why he’d tried to make a match with Leona.

“So you’d be willing to marry a stranger to avoid your brother’s choice?”

Silence stretched for a long moment before she gave one brief nod. What kind of choice had her brother made for her?

“And you’re not looking for love? Because I can tell you, you won’t find it here.”

Amanda had taught him that lesson. He had nothing to give a woman, especially not a woman like Kaitlyn.

Her fingers paused on the washboard. “I don’t need love. A little kindness might not hurt.”

He smothered a smile. She didn’t mind calling him out, but that was a good thing. His kids would run right over someone who didn’t have a backbone. “It’s a deal, then. Escape and kindness for you. Help with the kids for me.”

She looked at him, her cheeks growing red. “I can’t stay here unless—I mean, there’s, um, no other women.”

He felt his own cheeks warm. “There’ll be a wedding, but no marriage. This is a business deal we’ll both profit from. Nothing more.”