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past year. The notable exception had been the day Patience had told him her suspicions were confirmed and they were going to be parents. For days afterward, Clay hadn’t been able to wipe the grin from his face. He hadn’t even tried. But today, other than the fact that Nora seemed completely recovered, Clay saw no reason to smile.
    “C’mon, girl,” he said, leading the mare out of her stall. “Another day of rest, and then I’ll let you run.” Clay was reaching out to give Nora a gentle pat when he heard it. A shriek. Definitely human, but so brief that he could not tell whether it reflected pain or pleasure. He spun around, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Thea running toward him. What on earth was she doing? Her pigtails sailed behind her, and beneath the white skirts of what had to be her nightclothes, Clay saw bare feet. Bare feet! Surprise turned to fear, and Clay’s own feet flew as he raced across the ground to sweep her into his arms.
    “Papa!” Thea laughed and touched his face as if they were playing a game. This was no game.
    “No, Thea,” he said sternly. “My name is Mr. Canfield.” She shook her head. “Papa,” she insisted, tightening her grip on his neck.
    There was no reasoning with a two-year-old. Clay wasn’t sure why he had even tried. Thea was Sarah’s responsibility. He would let Sarah explain that Clay was not and never would be Thea’s papa. Though Austin had been eager to assume the role of adoptive father, reminding Clay that they’d both recognized Pa’s need to know the ranch would be passed on to another generation of Canfields, Clay did not share that enthusiasm. Those pudgy arms and those brown eyes so like her sister’s might have melted another man’s heart, but they had no effect on Clay’s. Thea was Sarah’s responsibility and Sarah’s alone.
    Where was she? Miss Sarah Dobbs had a lot to answer for this morning, starting with the fact that she had let her sister come outside clad this way.
    “Horsey!” Her attention now focused on Nora, Thea was flailing her arms. Though her vocabulary might be limited, there was no doubt that she wanted to touch the horse.
    “She is a horse,” Clay said as he started walking toward the house. “Her name is Nora.” And the little girl in his arms was not going into the corral. No, sirree. A horse, even one as gentle as Nora, was not an Eastern child’s plaything. Texas children were raised around horses. They knew the dangers. Thea did not. Sarah should have realized that. She should never have let Thea go outdoors alone.
    “No-rah.” Thea tried out the new word, giggling as she repeated it. As Clay continued striding away from the paddock, Thea batted his face with a tiny fist. “No-rah. Want No-rah.”
    “Thea!” Though alarm and relief mingled in Sarah’s shout, Clay felt nothing but relief when he saw her emerge from the cabin. Her limp more pronounced than normal, Sarah hurried across the yard, her gaze never moving from Thea’s face. Sarah’s feet, Clay noted, were sensibly shod, but why on earth was she wearing a heavy woolen cloak? The temperature was close to eighty. As the cloak parted slightly, revealing a froth of white ruffles, Clay had his answer. Like her sister, Miss Sarah Dobbs was still in her nightclothes. Thea must have escaped while Sarah was asleep.
    “Oh, Clay, I’m so sorry.” The palpable relief that her sister was safe had changed to regret. Clay could almost hear Sarah’s thoughts, thoughts in which the word burden figured prominently. When she reached him, Sarah extended her arms. “Come, Thea. Come to Sarah.” Thea had other ideas. Turning her head into Clay’s neck, she ignored her sister. Sarah frowned slightly, then continued her apology. “I must have been more tired than I realized, because I didn’t hear her waken.” As Thea began to babble about horses and papas, Sarah raised her voice slightly. “She’s never done that before—leave me, that