7

“I think you need to rest that arm of yours.” Caleb pushed to his feet and muffled a grunt. Gray morning light flowed through the lone cracked window and dust motes floated in the air. They’d worked on the storeroom since dawn, scrubbing and sweeping the floor and walls and tiny window. A vigorous application of elbow grease, soap and water, left the room and meager contents gleaming. And habitable. Aside from a narrow brass bedstead, there was a battered trunk and the two rickety chairs. Several crates containing various unwanted items the parishioners gave for donation now stood against the far side of the room in a neat row.

“I know when to stop.” Grace lifted the broom and attacked cobwebs hanging in the corner of the narrow room. Poor spiders. The woman was fearless and tireless. If her injury pained her, she kept it hidden.

“I don’t want this to prolong your recovery.”

“A little honest, hard work never killed anyone.” She lowered the broom, her assault on the cobwebs victorious, and wiped her forehead.

“You do know that you have to take it easy if you want to heal properly?”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I need to be coddled.”

Caleb turned and yelped at the tiny brownish creature that skittered against the length of the far wall. Chilled to the bone with his heart threatening to burst, he took a step back and bumped into one of the chairs.

Grace snorted. “It’s a mouse.”

Of course she’d noticed. He chuckled, his cheeks and ears burning. “I’m not particularly fond of the little critters.”

“It’s still practically a baby.” She cornered the furry creature, caught it, cradled it like a puppy, and started to the door. “Don’t worry; no one will hurt you.”

“What are you doing with it?”

“I’m putting it outside.”

“It’ll come back.” And torment him in the dark. Caleb rubbed his arms. Tiny paws tickling up his leg as it scurried all over him at night wasn’t something he wanted.

“I’ll tell it not to.” The stairs creaked and complained as she hurried down to set the critter free.

He caught the chair and moved it against the wall. The room appeared void of other furry residents. One loner was acceptable—unwelcomed—but he couldn’t stomach an infestation of the varmints. Little paws scratching against the floor boards. Beady eyes watching him in the blackness as he slept in oblivion. A shiver stole down his spine.

“Maybe I should be the one moving here.” Brushing her palms together at the doorway, Grace smiled. Her scarf was knotted over her hair, but strands escaped and framed her face.

“It’s hardly accommodation suitable for a lady.”

“I’m not a lady.”

“You’re a lady even if you trot in breeches and wield a gun.”

“What if the mouse returns, with its friends?” She retrieved the broom and rested her chin on the rough tip. There was nothing left to sweep. Unless she experienced the same awkwardness that he did and needed some form of distraction.

“I guess you’ll have to come and rescue me then.” He liked her smile a little too much. He gritted his teeth. His loneliness didn’t give him a right to enjoy her presence. Or even attempt at joking with her.

“I suppose I can.” She propped the broom in the corner and walked to the window. The hem of her skirts now brushed the floor after Ellen adjusted it. Donned in Margaret’s plain brown day dress with a white apron protecting most of the skirt, the strings created a perfect white bow at the smallness of her back. Unlike her original getup, this outfit emphasized her tiny waist and her distinctly feminine figure. He glanced at her face and realized she’d said something and waited for a response. “Excuse me?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

The corners of her mouth twitched. “Isn’t this storeroom a little big?”

“The first parson was unmarried. This room served as his personal quarters. Since his death, it housed a person or two and then became a space for storage. And accumulated dust and spider webs.” He shivered. “And home to a mouse.”

“I still don’t see why I can’t move in here since it will only be temporary.”

Caleb massaged his lower back. “It wouldn’t be proper. Besides it gets cold here at night.”

“I’ve stayed in worse places. A little cold never bothered me.”

“For once, you can stay in a place a little more decent. And warmer.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “Even a charade such as ours doesn’t give me the permission to treat you any differently than I’d have treated another lady.”

Something flashed in her eyes, but she turned her head. “I still don’t like taking up residence in your house.”

“Grace, I’m not letting you sleep here. Your safety is my concern.”

“My safety?”

“Yes. If the mouse returns with reinforcements, they might take you hostage.”

She laughed. It wasn’t a full hearty laugh, but it was melodic nonetheless, and it warmed his insides. Caleb’s chest swelled but he snuffed it.

“And you won’t come to rescue me?”

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid not.” He gripped the second spindle-backed chair, set it against the wall and turned to observe the room. It was a far cry from comfortable, but for the time being, it would suffice. “I’ll face spiders, dusty storerooms, and talkative widows. But I put my foot down at confronting mice soldiers.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to take the house.”

“Good choice. I think we’re done here.” He winked at her.

“I’ll throw out this water.” Grace grabbed the bucket and hurried to the door that led to the stairs down the back wall of the church.



Grace relaxed against the wall and drew a breath. Caleb winked at his daughters all the time. It shouldn’t fluster her. Above, furniture scraped and she tilted her head to watch the window. She’d treaded dangerous territory before, tracking outlaws or runaways day-after-day, but getting involved with a widower and two grieving little girls was unstable and unfamiliar turf. And only a temporary endeavor. A ruse. And despite being the noblest job she’d ever tackled, she had no place in Caleb’s world. She toted a gun and hog-tied runaways. No blue-eyed preacher could fool her heart. She needed to leave. Before the hole in her heart grew any more.

“Pull yourself together.”

Caleb only needed her in order to fool his father-in-law. He was playing a part and expected her to play hers. She’d be silly to care for a man who would never fancy her. Her heart needed guarding against any fragment of love from wedging itself into her life.

The strike of boot heels dragging down the stairs drew her attention and she straightened from the building and tugged at the stained apron.

“You all right?” Caleb frowned.

The breeze whipped his hair into a tousled mess. With the top button of his shirt undone; she caught a peek at the dark, curly hair at his chest. Her heart banged against her ribs.

“Fine.”

“Is it your arm?”

She glanced at her hand gripping her stinging bicep. “No. I needed some air.”

“You sure?” He took the empty bucket from her hand.

“Positive.”

“Thanks for helping me clean out that mess.”

“It was nothing. The least I could do after I’ll be using your room.”

“I think it’s time to change that bandage.” His smile was tiny and swift, and he motioned to the house. “And I need a cup of coffee.”

Never one for strong drink, she might’ve preferred something a little stronger than mere coffee to drown the unwelcomed butterflies in her stomach. She walked next to him, unsure why his hand on the small of her back frizzled her insides. Her boots crunched on the frost that had gathered on last night’s snow. She’d faced blizzards, bandits, and even a grizzly once. A preacher should hardly affect her.