High Country Bride

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Authors: Jillian Hart
of Daisy, too little to understand, but needing security and comfort all the same. Joanna thought of how hard she had wished for just one chance to improve her life. This was certainly a chance she had to take.
    Then she studied the man in front of her. His eyes were dark and bleak. His presence like stone, cold and remote.
    “How can I say yes?” she said into the silence that had grown between them. “My being here upsets you.”
    “I know.” His hands curled into fists. “But I have my sense of duty.”
    “You pity me. That’s not reason enough.” Everything within her longed to stay. To repay him for his kindness at giving them lodging and supper. To have the chance to provide better for her children. But at what cost to him? “I saw you in the kitchen after we left you. I’ve never seen that kind of emotion.”
    His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. It was as if his sorrow began to bleed. “What I lost is in the past. Perhaps God has put you in my path to teach me.”
    “That sounds harsh.” She hated to think that life—and God—were so brutal. That love lost was like love never felt. That hardships and loss were only meant to teach lessons. Maybe that was why she’d stopped hoping prayer could help her. Why she didn’t believe God would.
    Aiden shrugged one brawny shoulder. “What if I had been the one to die? What if I had left Kate widowed? I want to believe there would be someone out there man enough to help her and protect her. To make sure she and my boy would be safe and fed.”
    His words were like a knife to Joanna’s heart. She blinked away the tears from her eyes, feeling pain take over. The poor man.
    A muscle worked in his neck, perhaps his attempt at controlling his emotions. “Will you allow me to help you, Joanna?”
    “I’ll allow you to help my children.” It took all her dignity to keep her chin up. “I appreciate your offer, Aiden.”
    “Good.” His fists loosened. “Your gelding needs care. The balm you’re using is what most folks use, but I’ve got something better.”
    “I noticed that you had done something different to it. Thank you for that.”
    “It was no trouble. You’d best be leaving the gelding here, as you’re staying. I’ll be by after I’m done in the fields to help you unpack your wagon.”
    “I hate to trouble you, Aiden. I suppose you have fence work to do, and haying?” She said the last like a question.
    “You were a farmer’s wife.”
    “And a farmer’s daughter. If you need an extra hand, I can drive horses, turn hay and I’m good at pitching.”
    “I never would have guessed that.” He had his opinion about women working in the field—he had never wanted his wife to labor that hard—but Joanna spoke of her experience with a hint of pride. He had to admire a good work ethic.
    “I have a certain knack with topping haystacks. I’d be happy to help. I have the children, but…” She stopped, leaving the question unasked.
    He had his beliefs, but he wasn’t about to deny her the chance to make her life right again. “I reckon we will figure something out. Perhaps my ma wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them. We’ll see.”
    “That would be wonderful.” Tension rolled off her. She smiled up at him, and in the dappled stripes of sunlight coming through the plank walls, she seemed transformed. Young and dainty and softly beautiful.
    Aiden felt his throat tighten up with too many emotions—too much feeling for a man who’d lost his heart—and looked away. “Where are your children?”
    “Playing in the yard by the wagon. I can see them…” She glanced through the slatted walls. “James is watching his sister.”
    Aiden managed to nod and to keep his eyes down on the straw at his boots. It was easy to hear the affection soften her voice. He figured love would do the same to her face. Best not to be noticing that. He took a step back. “Why don’t you bring your children up to the house? There’s a platter in

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