Page 86 of Montana Groom of Convenience
They studied each other across the narrow space. She wished she had lit a lamp so she could see him better, but nevertheless, she felt his surprise.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I know you feel things deeply. I’ve seen you laugh. I’ve seen concern in your face when you talk about Jill, and I’ve seen sorrow when you talk about your ma and Johnny. Which reminds me, thank you for making those markers for your family. It means a lot to Jill.”
He lay back. For a moment, she thought he’d gone to sleep, and then he turned to her. “Your turn.”
“For what?”
“Tell me about your beaus.”
She gave a mocking laugh. “That won’t take long. I think men are afraid of me because I do a man’s work.”
He made a scoffing noise.
Somewhat eased by his response, she continued. “There was Bart Connelly. I thought he cared about me.”
“Didn’t he?”
“I think he saw me as a shortcut to a ranch. He thought I would turn into his idea of a regular lady, and he would run the ranch.”
“I expect you corrected him of that idea.”
The amusement in his voice sang along her veins. “Guess I did.”
Another pause. She was about to settle back down on the hard floor when he said, “Did you care for him a lot?”
“I suppose I thought I did. Father rather liked him.”
“Was that the only reason you cared for him? Because your father approved?”
“Why am I always doing what Father would like? What’s the point?”
“Maybe he’s happy enough to have you as his loving daughter. Perhaps you don’t need to try and be anything else.”
She lay back on her pillow. Was Sawyer right? Was being his daughter enough? What would it take to discover the answer to her questions?
Would pretending she and Sawyer were well and truly man and wife suffice for her father?
Sometimes, she wondered if anything would satisfy him. She reminded herself she wasn’t going to seek his approval anymore. But without it, he would sell the ranch.
Was her love of the ranch influencing her decisions more than she wanted?
Chapter 17
Sawyer had worried about sharing the bedroom with Carly. How was he to keep his feelings hidden? But he found they settled into a comfortable enough routine alternating nights on the floor. And talking quietly as darkness settled over the land. Both of them seemed freer in the privacy of the room, and he liked learning more about her.
It was his turn to sleep on the floor. There were so many things he longed to discover about her. “What was your happiest memory?”
She shifted to her side and peered at him over the side of the bed. “I’ll have to think about that for a moment.” She considered her answer. “I think I’d have to say it was the Christmas I was thirteen and a half. I remember Mother braiding my hair. She had made me a new dress and said I was so pretty. Father gave me a pocketknife.” Her voice deepened. “I think he’d been saving it for a son, but that was the year the fourth baby boy had died.” Her voice brightened. “That was the year Mother gave me the little china shepherdess. I saidI couldn’t take it. I knew how fond Mother was of it. She told me it had served her well, and she wanted me to take it and remember what it stood for. The Shepherd’s Psalm. ‘The Lord is my shepherd... He leadeth me?—”
Her voice grew deep, and she stopped speaking. “Mother died that spring.”
How it must have hurt her to lose the figurine. He felt responsible. “I’m sorry about the shepherdess getting broken. I wish I could replace it.”
“I just realized something. Mother would not let the breakage upset her because the words of the psalm were in her heart.” She smiled. “They’re there for me too.”
He studied her, wishing he could see her better. “That’s good to hear.”
