sake."
"When was I to marry her?"
"Today." Jeremiah rose. "Sunday service begins in less than an hour. I'd best get home and gather up my family."
As he watched the teacher leave, jumbled emotions twisted inside his chest. He tried to remember. Only dark gray fog and pain answered. Buchman was hardly a confidence man, out to fool him. He had no doubt the schoolteacher spoke the truth, that Lissa expected and needed him to marry her.
He sat up, fighting the dizziness. He knew what he had to do.
Hanging up the dishtowel to dry in the sunny corner of Blanche's kitchen, Lissa leaned forward just enough to glance through the window to the street outside. She could see Doc's clinic with the sign swinging on the awning in the brisk morning breeze.
"You didn't need to help with the dishes, Lissa." Blanche's hand brushed hers with a connection of friendship, of caring—a connection that tugged at her heart.
"It's the least I could do, Blanche. You fixed me breakfast, and I know it's made you late this morning."
"Not at all. We just have to round up the boys and find Jeremiah." Blanche set the empty basin on the table. "I'm glad you and Chad are joining us today."
Lissa tried not to think of her situation during the walk through the burning bright sunshine. Dust kicked up from the heels of the boys' shoes as they tried hard to keep from running and playing, with a few quiet reprimands.
Chad walked steadily in the same subdued way he had since his father died, with chin down, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Would John Murray regain his memory? If he did, would he still want to help her? Or had his injury changed things between them?
"Lissa?" A man's voice broke through her thoughts.
She spun around to face Ike Palmer, town sheriff, so smart looking in his black vest, trousers, and polished boots. The badge on his chest glinted in the new day's light, and the puckered frown on his brow as he looked her over made her feel drab in comparison. She still wore yesterday's dress, for she hadn't bothered to change. The gray gingham garment was serviceable, but not her Sunday best.
"Ike. I'm surprised to see you headed to church." Normally the lawman avoided the weekly service.
"Today is different. I was looking for you. I hoped we could speak privately." He cast his gaze behind her shoulder and tossed Blanche a withering glare.
"I'll catch up," Lissa told her friend. Then she waited, squinting against the rising Montana sun. Chad took one glance back at her, then trudged along with the Buchman family.
"I've heard of your groom's unfortunate accident," Ike began, removing his crisp black hat. "Perhaps it was the hand of providence. Perhaps I'm the man you should be marrying."
"I've already heard your offer, Ike. You know it would never work." Lissa set her chin. "You're the sheriff. You have a responsibility to live in town. And I would never be happy in the cramped little apartment above the jail."
"I would buy the finest house here in town."
"I love the ranch. And you hate it. I can't change my preferences any more than you can change yours."
"But I would protect you."
One look at the jut of his chin and the sparkle of want in his narrow eyes shot regret straight through her heart. "It would be a sure path to unhappiness, and you know it, Ike."
"You could live in town, and still have a garden."
The man was thickheaded. Lissa gritted her teeth. It wasn't just the gardening. It was the scent of fresh mountain air every morning, the cycle of seasons from the new life of spring to the barrenness of winter. It was all she'd ever known and loved. That, and the freedom it gave her. When a person had their own land, they truly had independence.
Besides, her husband was buried on the hillside just yonder from the cabin, facing the rugged peaks of the Rockies and the setting sun. Her babies were buried beside him. She could never leave.
"Always remember I want the best for you, Lissa." Ike smiled. He truly was a dashing man,
"When was I to marry her?"
"Today." Jeremiah rose. "Sunday service begins in less than an hour. I'd best get home and gather up my family."
As he watched the teacher leave, jumbled emotions twisted inside his chest. He tried to remember. Only dark gray fog and pain answered. Buchman was hardly a confidence man, out to fool him. He had no doubt the schoolteacher spoke the truth, that Lissa expected and needed him to marry her.
He sat up, fighting the dizziness. He knew what he had to do.
Hanging up the dishtowel to dry in the sunny corner of Blanche's kitchen, Lissa leaned forward just enough to glance through the window to the street outside. She could see Doc's clinic with the sign swinging on the awning in the brisk morning breeze.
"You didn't need to help with the dishes, Lissa." Blanche's hand brushed hers with a connection of friendship, of caring—a connection that tugged at her heart.
"It's the least I could do, Blanche. You fixed me breakfast, and I know it's made you late this morning."
"Not at all. We just have to round up the boys and find Jeremiah." Blanche set the empty basin on the table. "I'm glad you and Chad are joining us today."
Lissa tried not to think of her situation during the walk through the burning bright sunshine. Dust kicked up from the heels of the boys' shoes as they tried hard to keep from running and playing, with a few quiet reprimands.
Chad walked steadily in the same subdued way he had since his father died, with chin down, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Would John Murray regain his memory? If he did, would he still want to help her? Or had his injury changed things between them?
"Lissa?" A man's voice broke through her thoughts.
She spun around to face Ike Palmer, town sheriff, so smart looking in his black vest, trousers, and polished boots. The badge on his chest glinted in the new day's light, and the puckered frown on his brow as he looked her over made her feel drab in comparison. She still wore yesterday's dress, for she hadn't bothered to change. The gray gingham garment was serviceable, but not her Sunday best.
"Ike. I'm surprised to see you headed to church." Normally the lawman avoided the weekly service.
"Today is different. I was looking for you. I hoped we could speak privately." He cast his gaze behind her shoulder and tossed Blanche a withering glare.
"I'll catch up," Lissa told her friend. Then she waited, squinting against the rising Montana sun. Chad took one glance back at her, then trudged along with the Buchman family.
"I've heard of your groom's unfortunate accident," Ike began, removing his crisp black hat. "Perhaps it was the hand of providence. Perhaps I'm the man you should be marrying."
"I've already heard your offer, Ike. You know it would never work." Lissa set her chin. "You're the sheriff. You have a responsibility to live in town. And I would never be happy in the cramped little apartment above the jail."
"I would buy the finest house here in town."
"I love the ranch. And you hate it. I can't change my preferences any more than you can change yours."
"But I would protect you."
One look at the jut of his chin and the sparkle of want in his narrow eyes shot regret straight through her heart. "It would be a sure path to unhappiness, and you know it, Ike."
"You could live in town, and still have a garden."
The man was thickheaded. Lissa gritted her teeth. It wasn't just the gardening. It was the scent of fresh mountain air every morning, the cycle of seasons from the new life of spring to the barrenness of winter. It was all she'd ever known and loved. That, and the freedom it gave her. When a person had their own land, they truly had independence.
Besides, her husband was buried on the hillside just yonder from the cabin, facing the rugged peaks of the Rockies and the setting sun. Her babies were buried beside him. She could never leave.
"Always remember I want the best for you, Lissa." Ike smiled. He truly was a dashing man,
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