The Rancher's Christmas Proposal. Sherri Shackelford

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СКАЧАТЬ gown cut from the same sky blue fabric as her brother’s sailor shirt.

      The children must have inherited their mother’s looks, because the gentleman’s hair was a deep, rich brown, and his eyes were the translucent green of a tender new leaf.

      “Ball,” Owen offered by way of explanation.

      The gentleman flashed a boyish half grin, sending a little flutter through Tessa’s stomach.

      “The name is McCoy,” the man said. “Shane McCoy. Thank you for returning Owen. He’s quite the escape artist.”

      “Tessa Spencer,” she replied, extending her hand.

      The quick clasp of his fingers sent a stirring of gooseflesh up her arm.

      He angled his body toward his companion. “This is the children’s aunt, Mrs. Lund.”

      “Pleasure,” Tessa replied, her tone clipped. The woman had her on edge.

      As though addressing someone beneath her notice, Mrs. Lund gave only a slight incline of her head. “God rest Abby’s soul. She always did have a knack for leaving her troubles on someone else’s doorstep.”

      Tessa absently rubbed her arms. The poor man was a widower. No wonder he was overwhelmed. Especially considering his sister-in-law hadn’t offered any additional help. Without a word of explanation, Mrs. Lund had set off in the direction of the ticket office.

      “You must excuse her,” Mr. McCoy said. “She’s still in mourning.”

      Tessa smothered a snort. Not hardly. She’d seen people express more grief over the loss of a wooden nickel.

      Unlike his acerbic sister-in-law, the bleak look on the widower’s face mirrored her own despair. As much as it shamed her to admit it, she’d gladly assist Emmett with one of his swindles if only to see him once more. She’d taken for granted how much her world had orbited around caring for him. Oh, he was a capable grown man, certainly, but of the two—she’d always been more of the parent. Maybe that was why the haunted look in Mr. McCoy’s eyes resonated with her.

      At a loss, she gestured toward the heap of bags and coats at his feet. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

      “Thank you for the offer,” he replied, his light tone not quite ringing true. “But as you can see, I’m beyond help.” He nuzzled the top of Alyce’s head. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”

      Alyce bussed his cheek with a delighted squeal, and something inside Tessa melted a little. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

      Mr. McCoy flashed his boyish grin once more. “Perhaps not.”

      Certainly it was the early fall sun warming her cheeks. If only her own troubles weren’t quite so overwhelming. The little family was obviously in need of a good deed, and good deeds were her new stock-in-trade.

      The previous year, she and Emmett had attended a tent revival on a lark. The edifying experience had set her on a path of atonement. While she hadn’t been completely sold on the itinerant religion, the preacher’s words had given voice to the nagging unease in her heart.

      That little voice had turned out to be her conscience. Each day with Emmett, that pesky voice had grown louder until she’d realized there was only one way to silence the clamoring. Since Emmett’s moral compass had never been set to true north anyway, he’d taken her desertion badly.

      Tessa squared her shoulders. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCoy. I wish you all the best on your journey.”

      She wasn’t certain if he was coming or going, and she didn’t suppose it mattered.

      “Likewise,” he said. “What about you? Are you on the first leg of some grand adventure?”

      “Actually.” She let a small, self-indulgent sigh escape. “I’m not certain where I’m going.”

      “You’re all alone, then?”

      His innocent question had her eyes burning once more. If only her last words with Emmett hadn’t been harsh. Her change of heart concerning his dubious activities had driven a wedge between them, and she should have tried harder to make him understand. If they’d been on better terms when the Fultons had approached him, she’d have talked him out of consorting with the dangerous gang.

       The Fultons.

      Her heartbeat picked up rhythm and her gaze darted around the platform. “Being alone isn’t such a bad thing.”

      She’d been standing here like a dolt instead of keeping an eye out for trouble. A dangerous mistake.

      Satisfied her lapse hadn’t been fatal, she assumed her most serene smile. “I believe I’ll go wherever the wind takes me.”

      She sure hoped the wind picked up soon.

      “I miss those days,” Mr. McCoy replied a touch wistfully. “Enjoy the freedom.”

      Alyce snatched his ear and tugged, replacing his melancholy expression with an indulgent chuckle.

      Tessa’s gaze lingered on his face. My, but he had striking eyes. She gave herself a mental shake. What sort of woman mooned after a widower? Quite a few, judging by the admiring gazes he received from several female passengers strolling past.

      Bending to Owen’s eye level, she smiled. “Stay out of trouble.”

      “Ga.”

      Unable to resist, she ruffled his hair, prolonging the moment. Her gaze locked with Mr. McCoy and they remained frozen, cocooned among the porter’s calls and the shouted greetings tossed toward departing passengers. Never in her life had she felt such an immediate connection to someone. Or was her continued solitude simply taking its toll?

      “I’m in your debt,” Mr. McCoy said, breaking the taut thread of awareness stretching between them.

      “Anyone would do the same.” She tightened the ribbons on her bonnet and turned away. She mustn’t leave her trunk unattended for long. As she knew firsthand, there were thieves lurking everywhere. “Perhaps we’ll cross paths again one day.”

      Tessa tossed the last comment over her shoulder, wondering if he’d felt the same instant kinship. Probably not. Her shoulders sagged a notch before she straightened them. That sort of nonsense wouldn’t do at all. She wasn’t the sort of person who indulged in fits of melancholy. His obvious affection for his children had stirred up her guilt over Emmett, nothing more.

      Mr. McCoy appeared lost and overwhelmed, emotions she understood all too well. Though the encounter felt unresolved, she resumed her seat on her trunk, retrieved her ledger and carefully searched out an offense.

       Distracted shop owner while Emmett stole a hat.

      In the opposite column she wrote “Returned lost toddler to his father.”

      Tapping her pencil against her bottom lip, she considered her admiration of the children’s father and then discarded the lapse as an offense. He was a fetching gentleman and she’d always been drawn to kindness. No harm СКАЧАТЬ