Page 12 of Montana Groom of Convenience (Montana Cowboys #5)

Two Gallagher heads came up, and Sawyer and Jill looked at each other.

Both seemed surprised at Carly’s observation.

If only Mother was alive. She would know how to help this pair.

Carly could only do what she thought Mother would have said and done.

Right now, she knew Mother would have hugged them both, but Carly didn’t feel free to do it.

She patted them both on the back and then moved on before either could react.

Father, perhaps sensing the awkwardness of the others, spoke. “Shouldn’t you show them around the place?”

An excellent idea. “Come with me.” She signaled them both to join her, and they left the house.

“You’ve already seen the barn, so we’ll skip that for now.

Behind the house is the garden.” She led the way to the right.

“That way is where we grow the crops. Wheat and oats. To the left are the corrals for the horses. That’s Big Harry.

He’s a black Clydesdale.” As if they couldn’t see that for themselves.

“He’s a gentle giant, but Father forbids me to handle him. ”

“‘Too much for a wee lassie like you,’” Sawyer quoted getting the accent exactly right.

It sounded so funny coming from his mouth that Carly laughed.

Her gaze caught his and refused to move on. His lips barely lifted. But she decided she would call it a smile. His eyes lightened as if humor had caught him by surprise.

She shifted his attention to Jill just in time to catch a fleeting grin.

Feeling rather pleased with their reaction, she pointed past the corrals. “Our ranch runs down to the river. We have a hundred head of cows. I try and keep them close to home rather than let them roam too far afield. It’s still open range.”

“Grass looks good,” Sawyer said.

Jill headed for the barn, and they followed her. They reached the building in time to see her disappear up the ladder into the loft.

Sawyer looked after her. “I never know if I should try and control her or let her find her own way.”

She didn’t know if he was asking for her opinion, but she offered it anyway. “I remember hearing Mother tell young mothers that they should give their children enough freedom to learn things but not enough they could get hurt.”

He nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

They wandered up the alley, looking at the dozen pens, stopping at the tack room to examine the harnesses. He checked the collar Big Harry would wear to pull the farm implements.

“It’s in good shape. It appears your Father is a careful man.”

She chuckled. “He is that. Especially careful not to throw anything away.” She indicated the tangle of leather scraps in the corner.

Sawyer glanced at them, and this time, she knew he smiled, though it disappeared before he looked in her direction. Still, she felt more than a little pleased with herself.

It was time to return to the house and prepare supper. Time to let him learn what sort of cook she was.

Sawyer felt rather pleased with himself. He’d made her laugh. And no amount of telling himself he didn’t care changed the fact that it made him feel good.

The thought scared him and he turned to study the harnesses hung neatly from pegs, oiled and polished.

He perceived he’d landed in a family that showed care and concern in everyday things.

And likely in big, occasional things, too.

The way Carly quoted her mother filled him with reassurance.

As if hearing his own mother in her words.

He spoke almost as if in a dream. “I can’t remember my mother very well, but I do recall something she said often.

‘Look for sunshine and you’ll find rays even on a cloudy day.

Look for darkness and you’ll find it even on the sunniest of days.

’” He couldn’t think why he’d told her that or even why he’d remembered it.

Except there was something about Carly’s sunny nature that brought it to remembrance.

She smiled brightly, sending a shaft of light into his dormant heart and stirring it to life.

He wasn’t sure he wanted that to happen, and yet he wasn’t ready to refuse it either.

She tipped her head. “Didn’t you say you were seven when your mother and brother perished?”

“I was.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But you said you regretted standing by and not doing anything. What could a seven-year-old do?”

His heart died a thousand deaths. He’d told her too much.

Should have guessed she’d see the flaw in his confession.

“Pa tried to get in to save them. It took three men to hold him back. I just stood there shaking with fear as the flames licked at the walls and consumed the roof. I was too afraid to even try. It wasn’t right for me to be more concerned with my own safety than rescuing them. ”

Her smile left her mouth but not her eyes, and the look she gave him felt like a caress. “Sawyer, do you think your mother would have wanted you to perish, too? ”

The question stunned him. He’d never considered it.

“If she could see you, I’m sure she’d be so happy to see you all grown up. Jill’s parents would also be happy she’s alive and will grow up and have children of her own.”

“Pa was never the same after. Not until he met Judith.” He’d shut Sawyer out as if he couldn’t bear to see a surviving son while his other had died.

“We’ve all lost so much. Why don’t we do our best to help each other find joy in what our lives are now?”

“I don’t have much to offer. But if you’ll help Jill...” She already had by offering encouraging words and touches. His shoulder warmed where her hand had rested briefly so he knew it felt good. Just what Jill needed.

Carly patted his arm, sending a bolus of warmth to his heart. He couldn’t decide if there was something about her touch that did that or if he had something wrong with him.

“You might discover you have more to offer than you think.”

The idea flared for the space of two seconds and then flickered out.

Her eyes sparkled as if she’d read his mind. “You might have a lot of surprises ahead of you.”

Again, the idea flared with hope. He didn’t completely succeed in dousing it. “Not too many, I hope, and none bad.”

She tossed her head, making her wheat-blonde braid flip back and forth. “You’ll have to be the judge of that. Now, if we aren’t all going to starve to death, I best go make supper, though I can’t say how close to starving you’ll feel after you eat my meal.”

He followed her from the barn. Jill shinnied down the ladder and fell in behind them. “Are you warning me again that your cooking might not be real good?” he asked.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” She laughed, a merry sound that held more than a note of teasing...or was it warning?

“It can’t be worse than my cooking.” He couldn’t keep resignation from his voice.

“Or could it?” She laughed again.

He glanced back at Jill and saw the concern in her face, though she masked it as soon as she realized he looked her way. “We’ll survive, won’t we, Jill?”

She answered with a scowl.

They reached the house, and Carly hurried into the pantry, returned with a basin and gave him instruction to bring potatoes from the root cellar. Jill followed him.

Jill sank to the ground by the entranceway. “I might not like this place.”

He couldn’t say if she meant the root cellar or the Morrison Ranch, but he decided it was the latter.

He filled the basin with last year’s potatoes, still firm from good storage.

“Doesn’t appear either of them is mean. That’s a good thing.

” He considered all he’d observed. “Carly likes to laugh a lot.”

“Her pa is funny.”

“But nice.”

“I guess.”

They returned to the house with the potatoes. He sniffed. Something smelled mighty good, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. Though, he was mightily tempted to open the oven and see what it held.

Carly took the potatoes and soon had them peeled and boiling. “It will be a few minutes. Why don’t you two bring in your things and get settled?”

He eyed her for a moment. Was she trying to get rid of them? But for what reason? With a start, he realized he’d immediately jumped to thinking of long-term leave-taking. But hadn’t they agreed she needed him, and Jill needed her?

Jill only? A little voice questioned.

He refused to dignify it with an answer.

Carly smiled and nodded, tipped her head toward the door to encourage his cooperation.

There seemed little reason to disagree. “All right.” He and Jill tromped to the barn and he got his saddlebags and the carpetbag that held her few belongings. He’d thought about buying her more clothes but had decided her cousin was better suited for the task.

Which brought to mind her present outfit. He had to try and convince her to dress like a young lady and he faced her. “Jill, I don’t think your ma would want you to dress like a boy.”

Jill stuck out her bottom lip and glowered at him. “Ma’s dead, so she don’t care.”

“Don’t you want to do what would please her?”

“I don’t care anymore. Besides, Carly dresses like a man. And you married her.”

“True.” But she’d worn a dress when he married her.

“Just ’cause she wears pants, you don’t like her?”

Well, put that way, it did seem a little unreasonable. “I guess I don’t care what she wears.” Her mode of dress had not been part of their agreement. Of course, he’d had no idea at the time.

“Then you can’t care what I wear.”

He sighed deeply and with a great deal of frustration. Were all females so argumentative? So adept at twisting what a fellow said? But rather than be upset at the notion, he realized he felt like smiling. Having someone other than Jill challenge him might be amusing.

They returned to the house. Carly stood at the stove, her back to the room. If he wasn’t mistaken, she grinned rather widely and hummed a little tune.

Seems she was enjoying herself just a bit too much.

Well, he’d signed up for this marriage, and neither her dressing like a man nor cooking like an old cowboy was going to make him change his mind.

Besides, how bad could her cooking be?