Read Online Montana Legend (Harlequin Historical, No. 624) by Jillian Hart - Free Book Online

not his responsibility and she’d been independent far too long to lean on a man now. “Go back to your room, Gage Gatlin, and rest well. I’ll be fine on my own, and besides, what are you going to do? See me home every night?”
    â€œWell, now, I admit I haven’t thought that far.” He flashed that grin at her, softened by sleep, edged by the dark shadow of a day’s growth.
    He was a charming man. “You’ve got a child to look after,” she reminded him, because it was the practical thing to do. It wasn’t as if he was attracted to her, the way she was to him. He was simply being neighborly. Gentlemanly. Polite. That was all.
    She clutched her mop close as she headed down the hall. “Good night to you, Mr. Gatlin.”
    He didn’t answer as she swished down the stairs and into the lamplight of the lobby.
    Someday, she thought wistfully as she stowed the broom in the back hall closet and carried the bucket out the side door and into the alley. One day she would no longer be alone. Someday she would have the warm embrace of a man holding her close through the night. Know the welcome comfort of a good man’s love.
    â€œDone for the night, then?” Mrs. McCullough asked from the front desk, her knitting needles pausing as she looked up, squinting through her spectacles.“You sure do look tired, Sarah. These late nights are too much for you. I can get you a morning shift in the kitchen—”
    â€œI wish I could.” Sarah sighed, trying not to think of the work that awaited her each day at her aunt’s shanty. “See you tomorrow evening.”
    Sarah stowed the empty bucket in the small closet and her coat sleeve brushed her shoulder. As she lifted the garment from the hook, she tried not to think of the long walk ahead. Weariness weighed down her muscles as she tripped down the crooked board steps and hurried down the dark, narrow alley.
    Piano music from the nearby saloon rang sharp and tinny on the icy wind. Random snowflakes drifted through the shadows and clung to her eyelashes and the front of her cloak as she shivered, walking fast past the lit windows where rough men drank inside.
    For the ten thousandth time she felt the old anger rise up, anger at the injustice of David’s death. It wasn’t his fault, Lord knew, but nights like this when exhaustion closed over her like a sickness and even her soul felt weary, she longed for the way her life had been. For her own humble home, a cozy log cabin in the Idaho mountains, where Baby Ella had banged pots and pans on the polished puncheon floors and David’s laughter rang as he made a story over the events of his day at the logging camp, where he’d worked.
    She longed for that gentle peace she’d known cuddling him in their bed at night, listening to his quiet breathing and feeling the beat of his heart beneath her hand. Of how when he stirred in his sleep, he reached for her, pulling her against his warm strong body, holding her close.
    And although she’d grieved him long and well, she missed all he had given her. She knew she couldn’t go back, couldn’t live for the past and try to resurrect it. But she ached to know that kind of happiness again, the kind of love David had taught her a man and woman could find, if they were honest and loving enough.
    Remembering made the night colder and more desolate as she left the town behind her. Walking quickly and steadily down the road as dark as despair.
    Â 
    Perched in his stirrups, Gage could barely make out the shadow of Sarah Redding as she walked the deserted road. The prairie winds moaned, making the landscape seem alive. Dried grasses rasped, an owl glided low, startling the mare. Coyotes howled, close enough to make the skin prickle at the back of his neck.
    Old instincts reared up, ones that had once served him well. He’d vowed to keep away from Sarah, and here he was, looking out for her, making sure she