He’d kept his responses cooled for so long that he seldom felt them and even less often did others recognize them. “But completely unnecessary. I’d never hit a woman or child.”
Her lips pursed. “I won’t abide rough treatment of my animals, either.”
He nodded. “You and I see eye to eye on that matter.”
She studied him so hard he felt something inside shudder.
To avoid her gaze, he turned to Jill. “Her parents died right after Christmas.” It was the last time he’d been home and he’d stayed only two days, anxious to be on the move. Mostly from not wanting to feel like an outsider to the happy family of his pa, Judith and Jill, although Judith did everything she could to include him. He’d seen the pain in her eyes and Pa’s when he rode out.
The neighbor said they had taken sick shortly after he left and the fever had claimed their lives. “I was away and when I came home, I found Jill living with an elderly woman who provided nothing but a roof over her head and some meals. From what I could see, Jill took care of herself, which meant she ran wild. She’d been shuffled from home to home. No one wanted to keep her.”
He studied his little sister. Already he saw the evidence of her reaction to losing her parents and having a home where no discipline or affection was given. “She accepts no affection. Rebuffs attempts of people to befriend her.” He gave a sound that was half snort, half amusement. “Course I’m hardly one to judge what a normal reaction is.” He subdued a sigh. “Like I said, I don’t want her to end up like me.”
“I expect she’s just wanting someone who will accept her as she is and be there for her every day.”
Those words ricocheted back and forth inside Sawyer’s heart. Every day? He’d long ago learned there was no such thing as counting on someone every day. He’d discovered the best way to keep from being hurt was to not allow himself to feel anything, not to trust anyone to always be there.
He’d gotten really good at it. So good that women considered him cold and distant. He’d tried to change when he met Gladys Berry. She talked of home and family...things he thought he wanted. He soon learned he couldn’t become what she wanted and she’d stopped letting him call on her. Accused him of having no feelings—something he could not deny. Said he was a loner and would always be so.
He’d been better off than Jill. He’d had his pa. Sort of. Pa was there in body but absent in every other way until he had met and married Judith.
By marrying Carly, Sawyer could hope to give Jill what Pa had found. He wasn’t sure what to call it but figured security best described it.
“How soon you want to get married?” he asked.
“Today suit you?”
Long years of hiding emotions enabled him to sit perfectly still, revealing none of his surprise. “Today is fine by me.” There seemed nothing to be gained by waiting except to allow her time to change her mind. “You know someone who will marry us on such short notice?”
She rumbled her lips. “Now that might pose a problem.”
“How much of a problem?”
“I don’t know if I can find anyone to agree to our plan.”
He should have known this wouldn’t work out. With studied indifference, he got to his feet. “In that case, I’ll be moving along. Nice talking to you.” He grabbed his worn and battered cowboy hat from where it hung on the back of the chair and reached for Jill’s hand. “Come on.” Jill raced ahead and was out the door before he’d made three steps.
Knowing she could get into all kinds of trouble in less time than it took to say her name, he rushed after her.
“Mr. Gallagher, wait just one minute.”
He ignored Carly Morrison’s imperative call and hurried out the door just in time to see Jill dash into the middle of the street, right into the path of an oncoming wagon. He rushed after her, praying he’d get there in time to prevent a tragedy.
Carly stood with her hands on her hips, staring after Sawyer as the door slapped shut behind him. What had caused him to up and disappear like that? All she’d said was...
She groaned as she recalled her words. Did he think the problem she mentioned was unsurmountable? Her only concern was that the preacher, Hugh, who was also Annie’s husband, might decide to object. She sniffed. Not that he had any right to. Hadn’t he and Annie planned to marry solely to provide a home for his little son? Of course, they had soon fallen in love.
Not that Carly had any intention of doing that. She wanted nothing but to keep her ranch. Certainly didn’t want a man thinking he had the right to tell her how to act or dress.
Either Sawyer thought she meant there was no one to marry them or else Sawyer had changed his mind. But would it hurt for him to come right out and say so instead of leaving her standing in the middle of Miss Daisy’s Eatery, trying to gather her thoughts together?
Annie had paid for their tea so she chased after the man with every intention of making him explain himself.
Before she reached the door, she heard people shouting and a woman screaming. She hurried outside to see what the fuss was all about.
Her breath stalled in her chest at the sight before her. Sawyer held the head of two struggling horses that tossed their heads and reared. A man in the wagon the horses were harnessed to stood on his feet and reared back on the reins, trying to get control of the frightened animals. And then she saw Jill and her heart slammed into her chest.
The child lay in the street. Carly knew in a flash what had happened. Jill had run into the street without checking to see it was safe. It happened far too often. She remembered when Annie’s niece, Mattie, had almost been run over last summer. Mattie’s father had ridden up and swept her to safety. Jill had not been as fortunate.
She was annoyed at how her skirts hindered her—she’d only worn a dress to town because of some foolish hope it would make a man consider her as marriage material. Now they were a hazard to her. Carly grabbed the hem and lifted the fabric to free her to run as she dashed into the street.
Ignoring the flashing hooves of the rearing horses, she scooped up the girl and carried her to safety in front of Marshall’s Mercantile. Paying no attention to the questions from the spectators, she laid Jill gently on the step and bent over to wipe the tangled brown hair from the child’s face. Her eyelids fluttered, then brown eyes went wide with shock.
“Are you hurt?” Carly checked each limb. A lump bulged on Jill’s forehead.
“I’m okay.”
It was the first time Carly had heard her speak, so she couldn’t judge if the huskiness was from her fright or if that was the child’s normal voice. She looked around, hoping Dr. Baker or his daughter were among those hovering nearby.
“Kate.” Relief flooded her at the sight of the doctor’s daughter pushing through the crowd. Kate had light brown hair that she often wore in a careless bun. So typical of the woman. Caring for others mattered far more than looks. Her brown eyes filled with kindness.
“Is she hurt?” Unmindful of the dusty wooden sidewalk that would soil her dark skirt, Kate knelt beside Carly and deftly ran her hands over Jill’s legs and arms, then pulled down each bottom eyelid to look into Jill’s eyes. “Take her over to the doctor’s office. I’ll examine her more closely there.”
Carly shoved aside the offers of help to carry Jill and lifted her against her chest. Jill crossed her arms and stiffened. Poor child to be in the arms of a stranger. Something warm and protective blossomed in Carly’s heart. This motherless child deserved to be sheltered and cherished. “I’ll take care of you,” she murmured to Jill.
It was