Page 8 of A Dangerous Heart
Her thoughts whirled, trying to find a solution for this disaster. “You sure you don’t want to get married?” Her mind went to the ads she’d scoured over and over. Men who listed ads seemed to want companionship and help with ranch work.
“No.” The curt word left no room for argument.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“That’s not my problem.”
“You came all the way to town. That shows a sense of responsibility,” she argued.
“I came to make sure David didn’t do something foolish,” he snapped.
The words carried a sense of honor that she’d appreciate at another place and time—not when her careful plans were unraveling all around her.
“You can go back where you came from,” he said.
“The boys and I can’t go back. There’s nothing left to go back to—no home, no family, no farm.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the boys. Eli was awake, head propped on one elbow at the back corner of the wagon, staring at the passing scenery. Ben stirred from where he’d fallen asleep tucked between two crates.
The enormity of what she had done hit her.
Isaac let out a long-suffering sigh. “My brothers can regroup and help you figure out what to do, since David and Jo created this mess.”
Isaac scanned the horizon with a level of attention she didn’t expect from someone who claimed to be a simple rancher. That made her even more curious about him—more so than the dozens of little mannerisms she’d noticed during the past half hour. Her thoughts were interrupted by a small finger tapping her on the shoulder.
“I’m hungry.” Ben had crawled over some crates stacked at the back of the wagon and tried to whisper in her ear. She’d pushed off his needs back in town. She had nothing to feed the boys.
Isaac leaned forward and reached under the seat, rummaging. He pulled out a shiny metal lunch pail that was overflowing with so much food that the red-and-white cloth tucked around its top strained to contain it all. He handed it to her, his eyes on her only long enough for Clare to take it fromhim before setting it on her lap. Under the cloth, she found biscuits, thick slices of ham, and two apples at the bottom.
“Looks like someone made fresh biscuits this morning. Would you mind if the boys shared one?”
“They can have all of it.”
The quick act of kindness seemed to contrast with the gruff, angry man next to her, but she wasn’t going to argue about this. Not when the boys needed food.
She turned to hand a fluffy biscuit to Ben. The wagon jostled, and her shoulder brushed against a hard, muscled bicep. A tingling sensation shot down her arm into her fingers. His jaw remained tight and his gaze miles ahead.
“What do you say?” she murmured.
The boys gave a chorus of awkward thank-yous.
No-no. No-no.
One of the wagon wheels squeaked. Instead of the hopeful message she’d heard on the train, worries cascaded in time with each turn of the wheel.
No husband.
No home.
No future.
What now?
Isaac shifted beside her. Suddenly, those sharp green eyes were turned on her, studying her. “I’ve got some questions of my own, you know.” His voice was low and raspy and deceptively calm. “Like why a woman like you would need to become a mail-order bride.”
She bristled, then caught herself. A woman like her. What did he mean by that?
In the back of the wagon, the boys were chattering in low voices. Something about a rabbit.
