Page 126 of The Formation of Us
Duke wanted to embrace her, but he held back, sensing she had more to say.
Sorrow and regret filled her eyes. She pressed her palm to the spot on his chest where his badge used to rest. “What are you going to do now?” she asked quietly. “You’ve been the sheriff for so long . . .”
“I’m content working the mill,” he said. And despite the tension with Radford, he enjoyed being there and working with his brothers.
“That’s not the same as being sheriff.”
No, it wasn’t. But it wasn’t less of a job, and it didn’t make him less of a man.
Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I’ll never forgive myself for causing you to lose something you were so proud of.”
“I’m proud of the mill.”
“You were proud to be a lawman, asheriff.”
He was, and he would miss the purpose and direction that had come with the demanding position, but his new disorderly and messy life was just as challenging and rewarding.
He’d always followed rules and enforced laws and never seen himself as separate from his badge. He’d never really made up his own mind about life or even what mattered to him. He’d chosen his path as a way to shine in his father’s eyes. Boyd shared their father’s wood-carving talent and had always made their father laugh. Kyle was a businessman to the bone, smart and rock solid with a good head for investments and expanding their business. Radford went to war and became a decorated hero. Duke was a third son unworthy of notice or any particular distinction until he’d pinned on his badge. Then he was Deputy Grayson, and later sheriff, a man his father could be proud of.
But now he was more than a lawman.
He was a family man.
“I have a more important position now,” he said, drawing Faith into his arms. “Because of you I’m a husband.” He looked toward the bed where Cora lay curled on her side. “And a father.”
“Is that enough?”
“Yes,” he said with conviction. It was enough because it was everything that mattered. He lowered his mouth to hers and took their first honest step toward their future.
Chapter 38
Faith crossed the yard by the greenhouse where Adam and Cora were building a snowman. “These will make perfect eyes,” she said, pushing two big black buttons into the snowman’s head, then adding a bulbous red button for a nose.
Cora giggled, the sound a balm to Faith. Her little girl was healing. And so was Faith’s relationship with Duke. With each day and each conversation, he was learning to understand and forgive her. And she was learning how much he loved her and the children.
Even now, he was across the street on their porch talking with her father about Adam.
“Mama, he needs arms,” Cora said, scowling at the snowman. She dug up a handful of snow with her mismatched mittens and stuck it on the snowman.
Faith would knit them warmer sweaters and matching mittens, but Cora didn’t care about her clothes any more than Adam did. Duke said he would buy them boots, and get Adam a gun so they could go hunting, but Adam didn’t need a gun. He just needed to know he could stay here with his family.
“There,” Cora said, eyeing the arm she’d made for the snowman.
Adam laughed. “It looks like a white pickle sticking out of his shoulder.”
Cora giggled, sending little puffs of frosty air from her mouth.
“A couple of small twigs will make fine arms,” Faith suggested.
Cora trudged through the snow to get a small branch that was lying beneath their maple tree. The snow nearly reached her knees, but she merrily plowed through it. Adam could have jogged over and back in the time it took her to reach the branch, but Faith was proud of him for letting Cora get it. She liked doing difficult things on her own; it made her feel grown up.
Instead of picking up the branch, Cora gasped and backed away as if she’d seen a snake. But snakes didn’t come out in winter.
A man stepped from behind the building, his cold gaze spearing Faith’s heart like a blade of ice. She’d known he would come, but thought he’d sneak up like a thief in the night, not waltz into her yard in broad daylight.
Before Faith could yell or lift her skirt to run, Stone grabbed Cora by her blue knit scarf and pulled her against him. Cora’s terrified cry drove Faith forward in panic. She reached for Cora’s arm to pull her free of Stone’s grip, but he raised a revolver and swatted Faith away like an annoying dog.
Lights exploded in her head as the gun struck her, and she felt herself falling.
