5

Caleb hesitated to enter the parsonage. He’d asked Ellen if the girls could spend another night with them. Not sure why, though. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Grace. Maybe it was because a morsel of him hoped she’d want to discuss the possibility of pursuing Ellen’s irrational suggestion. And having Abby and Libby underfoot would mean never ending questions from the pair.

Grace appeared appalled at the idea. She’d grown quieter and quieter until Ellen and Luke had left. Though her response wasn’t unexpected, it still stung. What disturbed him most was the way he’d wished that she might consider this insane charade.

Grace was lovely, but she wasn’t what he needed. She was a bounty hunter, for crying out loud. Not the kind of woman who wanted to settle down and care for a home and family. Not the kind of woman—even temporarily—whom he needed for his daughters. Abby and Libby had suffered enough for their young age. This ruse would make everything worse. They would grow attached, and then Grace would leave, breaking their hearts all over again.

When he opened the door that led to the kitchen, he stopped.

The table was set, the aroma of ham and onions heavy in the air. Grace sat at the spot she’d occupied this morning, bathed in the soft yellow light of the lamp.

She acknowledged him with a nod.

“I’m sorry. It took longer than I’d planned.” Especially after Mr. Preston found him along the way and grabbed the opportunity to extol his daughters’ good characters and recited the fact that Caleb’s daughters needed a mother.

“I made grub.” She pointed at the bowl. “It’s nothing grand. But I thought I’d pitch in.”

After his trying day, pig slops would’ve been welcomed. If not for housing a guest, he’d been ready to settle for a mere cup of coffee before going to bed.

“Thanks.” Being spared from making supper was a welcomed treat. “How are you feeling?” He removed his coat and scarf and after hanging both on a peg, he sat down and arched a brow at the warm cornbread steaming inside the cast-iron skillet. The bounty hunter knew how to cook. What other hidden skills did she possess?

“Fine.” She tugged at her earlobe. Wisps of hair grazed her cheek. Her gaze flitted from his to the food. “How was your walk?”

“It was good.” Now was not the time to admit how much he’d yearned for moments like these, craving quiet conversation. He needed a woman’s presence in his home, in his life, and missed having a wife waiting for him. Confound it! The woman was a guest—a patient really. And the sooner he’d put Ellen’s outrageous suggestion from his mind, the better.

“How are your daughters?”

“They’re good. They want to come home.”

“I imagine they do.” She cocked her head. “I know you don’t have reason to trust me, but I’m not some kind of fiend. I’ve never harmed innocent people, except once, when I had to hogtie a runaway.”

“You hogtied someone?” Considering her slender build, he couldn’t picture her overpowering anyone.

She gave him a one-eyed squint. “There are certain disadvantages to being male.”

Caleb threw his head back and laughed. He composed himself and wiped his eyes. When had he last laughed like that? “You need to tell me about it.”

“Man tried to shirk his responsibilities. Bride’s pa hired me to bring him back.” She made it sound as if it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

His lips twitched. “Food smells great.”

“It’s my only specialty. Kept me from starving many a night.” Her smile was small, perhaps even a little unsure. It suited her, took some of the edge from her face. “Guess you want to say grace?”

He smiled at her hesitant tone. Then with a nod, he bowed his head and offered a prayer.

“Just take a tiny bite. See if you like it.”

“I know I’ll like it.” He lathered a slice of bread with butter and dropped it into his bowl. Hungry as he was, he would settle for hardtack and bitter coffee.

She arched her eyebrow as he mashed the bread, mixing the mushiness with the soup. He chuckled, took his spoon, and dug in, pausing only to blow on the hot, fragrant meal. “It smells really good.”

“You shouldn’t be so easily impressed.” She stirred her bowl, her attention fixed on it.

Some of Caleb’s excitement dwindled, but as he took a tentative bite, he found it to match the mouthwatering aroma. A little on the salty side, but not as bad as some of his earlier attempts at supper. “Really good,” he repeated.

She continued to stir her soup, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “I thought about Mrs. Brennan’s suggestion.”

“Oh?” Careful. Appearing desperate wouldn’t help his case.

“I have some questions.”

“I imagine you would.” He nodded. Was that a good sign?

“You’re the preacher. Isn’t it odd that you’ll be willing to deceive someone?”

He set his spoon down and took a deep breath. “I’ll do just about anything to keep my daughters. I’ve negotiated for months with Margaret’s father. I’ve tried to convince him that this is where the Lord led me. He seems unable of accept that I’m capable of raising them, even here in the middle of nowhere.”

“But you’re their father. That’s got to count for something?” The suspicion in her voice seeped through and touched him.

“Unfortunately, he has a certain amount of influence that he can use to have authorities bend his way.”

“Influence?”

“Money.”

“Aah. I’ve had my run-ins with men like that.”

“They’re everywhere.” He took another bite of mushed bread and soup and smiled as she wrinkled her nose.

She tore off a piece of bread and dunked it, then bit it. “Why don’t you marry one of the fine women from your congregation? You’re attractive. I imagine there has to be a widow or another suitable young woman interested in marrying the preacher?”

She thought him attractive? Caleb took his time to chew his bite, swallowed, and then met her gaze. “Because they’d want more.”

“More?” Grace’s spoon clinked as she set it down in the bowl.

“They’d want—and deserve—a real marriage. I’m just not ready for another woman to share my life. Mrs. Haddon, the lady I’ve corresponded with, agreed to an arrangement that would’ve worked for us both.”

“An arrangement?”

“I need a wife in name only. A mother to my girls.” He plucked at the cuff of his shirt.

“One of those marriage of convenience fixings?”

“I won’t lose my girls.”

“Why’d she changed her mind?”

“A better opportunity arrived.”

“Say what?”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “Mrs. Haddon wasn’t aware of my injury. Or the lasting results.”

“So she changed her mind because of that?”

He pulled up a shoulder.

She slapped the table. “Jumping crickets. Good thing you didn’t end up marrying that woman.”

“Perhaps a blessing in disguise.”

Grace studied her soup. “When’s your father-in-law coming?”

“He should be here before Christmas.”

“That’s less than a week away.” Her brow furrowed.

Caleb nodded.

“For how long will he stay?”

“Just long enough for me to convince him that I’m a good father.”

“And then after he leaves, I can be on my way?”

Caleb clasped his hand in his lap. “Yes.”

She tapped her spoon against the bowl in a quick staccato. “All right.”

“Really?”

She snorted and pulled up a shoulder. “Might as well do something worthy while I wait for your brother to catch Pratt.”

Caleb braced his elbows on the table. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We need to convince your rich father-in-law that I’m a good fit to raise his granddaughters.”

“Right.” He raked his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead. “Where are you from?”

“Why?”

“You’ll be my fiancée. I need to know you a little, at least.”

“Since I’ll be your pretend fiancée, you can decide.”

“If we keep the lies to a minimum the chances of slipping up will be less.”

“Richmond. I left after the war. There was nothing left for me. Decided not to stay and set out to make a life for myself.” She resumed tapping her spoon against the bowl.

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

Caleb lowered the spoon to the empty bowl. “You’ve been alone since you were fifteen?”

“It suits me. Never was one of those proper gals.” She turned her face away. “I caught my first criminal that year. The reward was fifty dollars. Sheriff said I was a natural. So that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“How long have you been a bounty hunter?”

“Since then. It was the best prospect available.”

“Have you ever…?”

Grace arched her brow, but he shook his head and focused on his bowl.

“Killed a man?” She folded her arms. “That’s the first question most upstanding folks ponder about.”

Caleb glanced at her. “Have you?”

“Once. In self-defense, and if I had any sense, I would’ve killed more. Dead men don’t give you any trouble.”

“You don’t have any family left?” Caleb asked after a while.

“Why?” She shifted on her chair. “I’m not used to telling anyone so much about myself.” She tugged at her hair.

“I won’t share what you tell me with anyone. Unless you want me to.”

“What I tell you stays between us.” She waited for his nod. “I had four older brothers. All killed in battle. Pa crumbled at the news and died shortly after.” There was nothing left in her bowl, but she inspected it as if there was a treasure.

“I’m sorry, Grace.”

“Life went on.” Her voice was low and contained.

“It does.” He massaged the back of his neck. Outside the kitchen window, only the thick black night was visible. “But it’s never quite the same, is it? Grief doesn’t follow a neat little pattern. Sometimes out of nowhere, it hits us full force.” He looked at her and smiled. The lamp light played across Grace’s face, emphasizing each lovely feature.

“You miss her a lot, don’t you?”

“All the time.” He choked on the words but covered it with a cough. “How old are you?” He studied the half drank coffee in his cup. The drink had lost its appeal.

Grace shifted. “Are you going to ask my shoe size as well?”

Caleb grinned.

“Twenty-five.” She paused. “You?”

“Thirty-two.”

“All right.”

“Anything else you want to know about me?” Talking to her made bobcat wrestling appear fascinating.

“Since I’m not staying, I don’t see the point.” She traced the rim of the bowl.

Fine. If that was how it would be. He clasped his hands behind his head. “I like strong coffee. And gingerbread. Especially gingerbread. And early mornings, when everything is quiet and distractions are few.”

Grace frowned.

“Would you like to know my shoe size?” Good! He caught the smile she tried to hide by dipping her head, and his chest expanded.

“Wipe that stupid smile off your face.” Her chagrin only broadened his smile.

“Suppose since you now know more about me than any other living person, I can shoot some questions your way.”

He took a sip of the cold coffee and curled his lip. “Ask me anything.”

“Tell me about your daughters.”

“Abby is the oldest and a lot like me. We both tend to act before we think. Libby takes after Margaret. She observes quietly. Since her Mama’s death, she hasn’t said much.”

“How old were they when they lost their ma?”

“Abby was five. Libby was barely two.” His voice cracked, and he inhaled. “Ellen’s been great. She spends as much time with them as would be proper.”

“Margaret was killed in a robbery?”

“Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The bank robbers sought refuge. They broke into the church while Margaret and I were working. They got scared, and they fired. One shot hit my back. Another one ricocheted and hit Margaret.” Images flashed in his mind, as clear as if it were happening all over again. He shot up a quick prayer for strength. The chair scraped on the floor as he pushed back to stand.

“Were the men caught?”

“No.”

“I never understand why good people suffer.”

“We live in a fallen world, where suffering affects everyone.” How many times had he shared those words with another anguished soul? He’d clung to it with all his might during the darkest moments in his grief. He couldn’t see God’s hand in Margaret’s death, but he trusted.

“It shouldn’t.”

“But it does. And we can’t change it; all we can do is hold on to the One who conquered this world.”

“You’re supposed to say that.” Grace crossed her arms, and he read quiet challenge in her stance. “Was that pounded into your head when you went to seminary?”

“Not exactly.” Caleb exhaled and scratched his beard. “My faith and daughters kept me going.”

“I have something to add to our charade.”

He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Which is?”

“I haven’t been on speaking terms with the Almighty for a while. I want you to respect that.”

Caleb flattened his palm across his heart. “I won’t stuff it down your throat.”

Grace shook her head. “How’d I get into this mess?”