Jillian Hart Read Online Free Page B

comfortable with his body, aware of his strength. "Nice try, Mary, but that's not going to work. Mrs. Mercer is planning to leave as soon as the train comes."
    Mrs. Mercer. It was friendly enough, but formal too, letting her know that Gabe had not guessed from her eyes why she was here, had not noticed the emotion strung so tight in her body she felt ready to snap.
    Across the table, Mary granted her a smile and the jar of huckleberry preserves. "Oatmeal tastes yummy with jam on it."
    Sara's favorite breakfast food was oatmeal with jam.
    She tamped down every last bit of emotion and thanked Mary, no longer the baby she ached for, and knew she could leave. She could go on, holding this sweet moment in her heart, knowing the little girl with Andrew's chin and her eyes was happy and loved.

Chapter Three

    There was a lonely look to her, Gabe decided as he pushed his empty plate away and reached for his second cup of coffee. Sara Mercer from Oak's Grove, a little farming town near the North Dakota border. He didn't remember her, nothing but a vague impression of a solemn little girl from his school days, but then he was older and had been several grades ahead.
    He knew Grant Reece had a daughter, but had never noticed. He'd been married by the time Sara would have been in her teens, moved from Oak Grove to take a deputy job by the time she'd probably married. He felt sorry for her. Since she was Reece's daughter, her life would have been hard, and since she was a widow, he knew the pain of that breaking loss.
    "What's in Missoula?" he asked, because he was curious and because he wanted to see her look up at him again.
    She set her teacup down with a clatter. "A job. My father's sister opened a dress shop and is in need of a seamstress. She offered me the job first."
    True pride shone in her eyes, as gentle as twilight. How it drew him. "Sounds like a good opportunity."
    "It is." She ran her forefinger, slim and beautifully shaped, around the rim of the china cup, her face bowed. Dark curls framed her delicate face. "I've been working in a laundry for the last few years."
    "Did you still live with your father?" She looked up startled, and he regretted asking. "I just remember him, is all."
    "You do?" Her eyes widened with what looked like fear.
    Gabe remembered how cruel her father was. "I didn't know him well, just met him a few times. You spent your growing up years out on the farm. I just wondered."
    "I came to live with him right after"—her voice dropped—"after my husband died. But eventually I found a job and could afford to rent a place in town. It wasn't much, but it was a home of my own."
    "That's important," Connie spoke up.
    "It is." So intelligent she was, and with the way she dipped her chin and smiled just a little, she made his heart thrum. "When Aunt Ester offered this job, it was like a dream come true. I think I can make a good living, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'll be working at something I enjoy."
    What she didn't say struck him more. Gabe's throat tightened and he heard the dreams, unspoken but bright and shining—dreams for a happier future.
    "Do you have to go to Missoula?" Mary asked, licking huckleberry jam from the back of her spoon.
    Sara's smile gleamed, changing the solemn set of her face, chasing the sadness from her eyes. "I wish I didn't, but I do. I gave my word that I would be there."
    "But the train ain't comin' today, is it, Pa?"
    "Not if this snow keeps up. The crew won't be able to clear the tracks." Gabe drained his cup. "Your aunt will hold your job, won't she?"
    "Not if I'm late." Sara's gaze strayed to the window, where snow fell with a dizzying speed. Worry lines crept across her forehead and his thumb ached to soothe them away. "I had no idea the trains couldn't run in this kind of weather."
    "Not when we get blizzards the way we did yesterday. The wind drives the snow into drifts, and it's especially bad when the tracks have been cut through the