Page 27 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
It hadn’t been easy during the past week of being around her for the better part of each day. All too often he found himself admiring her beauty and longing for her. In fact, he constantly felt the pull to be close to her, even just to stand near her. He loved watching her interactions with the children. He loved seeing the contentment on her face whenever she finished a task. He loved listening to her laughter. He loved the way her eyes lit up when they had deeper discussions.
Each night, he was having a more difficult time tearing himself away from her. And when he was back at his hotel room, the desire to be with her again was so keen that his sleep was becoming restless.
And he’d only been in Breckenridge for about a week. If he already felt this way about her after a week, how would he feel after two weeks or a month?
Maybe he needed to cut short his stay before the bond with her was so strong that he wouldn’t want to leave. Because he had to return to the university and all that he was accomplishing with his innovative teaching methods. He was making a difference, changing minds, creating independent thinkers. Besides, he’d never be satisfied with being a simple farmer here. Sure, he was enjoying getting to experience what farm life was like, but he didn’t want to do it indefinitely.
Of course, he’d considered what life would be like if Clarabelle and the children came back with him. What would she think about moving to a strange land where she would be far from her family and wouldn’t be able to speak the language? They’d have to reside in Berlin for portions of the year, and after living in this wide-open wilderness, how would she and the children ever be able to adjust?
Behind him in the barn, he could hear Bianca’s giggles. She and Dieter were supposed to be laying fresh hay in the cow stalls, but Franz had glimpsed them building a hay pile and jumping into it. He hadn’t the heart to reprimand them. Not when they were finding joy in such simple things.
It wouldn’t be fair to ask them to give up everything for him. In fact, he felt rather ludicrous even contemplating the possibility of being with Clarabelle, since he’d just met her. He might be experiencing this powerful attraction to her, but she hadn’t been as enthusiastic with him.
She was sweet and kind and friendly, but it felt like she’d already decided that she would view him only as the children’s uncle and nothing more. She hadn’t said or done anything to make him feel unwelcome or unlikeable, but a barrier was there nonetheless.
The sheriff spat out the piece of grass and pushed away from the wood pile. “We’ve done about all we can to solve this here murder, and now it’s time to just let things go.” Was there an edge of warning in the sheriff’s tone?
Franz rubbed a sleeve across the perspiration forming on his forehead and pretended not to notice the threat. He wasn’t about to let things go. Not today, not tomorrow—not until he discovered the truth. But rather than being too direct or antagonistic, he had to be as amiable as possible if he had any hope of getting further in his investigation.
So far, everyone he’d questioned had been forthcoming in sharing all they knew about Eric and his activities. From everything Franz had learned, Eric had lived a quiet and secluded life, but he’d also been well respected in the community for his work ethic, generosity, and kindness. That meant the murder hadn’t been a result of neighborly disputes or grudges from townspeople.
He’d also decided the murder wasn’t related to an angry customer. From what he’d gathered, Eric had a stellar business reputation. He’d always offered fair prices and trades on his goods, had never tried cheating anyone, and had conducted his transactions above reproach.
“Heard tell you’re only here for a visit, that you ain’t staying.” The sheriff straightened his hat, still openly gawking at Clarabelle.
“I would like to make sure my nephew and niece and Clarabelle are well situated before I return home.”
“Reckon that oughta be soon.” The sheriff rested a hand on his pistol.
So that’s why the sheriff had ridden out to the farm today. Not to answer any questions Franz had about the murder. No, from how tight-lipped the sheriff had been during their brief discussion, that had just been an excuse—an excuse to warn him to stop investigating the crime and go home where he belonged.
Franz picked up the axe that he’d rested against the woodpile. His fingers and the blisters on his palm started aching just thinking about chopping more wood. Even though he was still fumbling through most of the farm tasks, he was still appreciating the experience of the manual labor and the lessons he was learning.
“Thank you for your visit today.” Franz nodded at the man. Even if the sheriff hadn’t disclosed a single clue, at least Franz could now conclude something bigger was going on in the area—something the sheriff knew about and was protecting. Whatever that was, somehow Eric had gotten drawn in, perhaps inadvertently. That had likely been the danger he’d mentioned in his letter, and that danger had ultimately cost him his life.
Franz righted the half-chopped log that had toppled over. He’d also concluded that he needed to move forward with the investigation more cautiously. If he wasn’t careful, he’d not onlyendanger himself but also Clarabelle and the children. And he didn’t want to do that.
The sheriff took a step toward his horse, then paused. “You should know that people are starting to yammer on about you and Clarabelle being here alone all the time. Ain’t good for her reputation.”
“I appreciate knowing that, Sheriff.” The last thing Franz wanted to do was harm her good name and character in the community.
“All the more reason for you to be taking your leave. That way another fella can marry her proper-like.”
“I will ponder your advice.” Franz kept his tone as friendly as possible, even as his insides roiled with frustration.
As the sheriff rode away, the frustration only swirled with more intensity. He hadn’t considered how his presence on his brother’s farm would affect Clarabelle’s reputation. Was he doing her more harm than good by coming out and helping?
As she finished hanging the clothing to dry, his gaze strayed to her more times than he wanted to admit. She finally gathered the laundry tin and washboard and soap and headed his way. To store the supplies in the barn. Not to visit with him.
Even though he wished she’d show more interest in him, he admired her for not being like other women who encouraged his attention—like her sister, Clementine. He’d encountered her a couple of times over the past few days, and each time, she’d been flirtatious, making an obvious attempt to engage him.
He should have canceled the plans to call on her. But he’d forgotten about the invitation until just that morning before he’d ridden out of town when she’d reminded him that she was looking forward to their dinner tonight.
Even then, he’d been tempted to tell her he had to cancel. But he was too much of a gentleman to be so rude and had decided that at some point during the evening, he’d clarify he wasn’tinterested in pursuing a relationship with her. He never should have agreed to the dinner and couldn’t even remember why he’d felt the need to say yes.
“Is it time for the children’s lessons?” He let the axe fall idle and tugged at his shirt collar, pulling it away from his sticky neck. The June day was proving to be the warmest yet, which, according to Clarabelle, would be good for the strawberries and newly planted garden.
Clarabelle paused beside him, her eyes twinkling with humor as she peered through the open barn doors to where the children were playing instead of working. “It sounds like they’re having fun.”
