As though she’d kicked him in the heart and was truly in some sort of danger, he appeared stunned, a little shaken, uncertain as to how to handle the situation in order to best protect her.
“Don’t be such a silly goose,” Faith said, working her arms around her daughter until they were forming a barrier between her and Rawley, until she could feel the firmness of his chest. Not skinny at all. She wanted to jerk back. Instead she pried Callie free.
“I’ll take her,” Ma said with an authority that had Callie going to her without any fuss at all.
Faith watched as her mother and father began wandering toward the house, as Rawley sauntered to the end of the porch where Pete had left his saddlebags. Reluctantly, she followed him over, knowing she had things she needed to say, if she could only find the right words. But she’d been searching for them ever since she found out he was returning, and they still eluded her.
“Who’s her father?” he asked flatly, reaching down, grabbing the bags, and slinging them over a shoulder before turning to face her.
“Just a cowboy with no plans to stay.”
“He left you?” Anger slithered through his voice. Had he been here when she realized she was with child, he’d have probably tracked the poor fellow down.
“We weren’t—” She shook her head, planted her hands on her hips, and kicked the toe of her shoe into the ground. Finally, she lifted her gaze and met his. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not, Faith. He was with you, he got you pregnant, and he just skipped on out of your life? That’s not how it works.”
“I didn’t want to marry him.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because he didn’t measure up.”Because he wasn’t you.
As though her answer explained everything, she spun on her heel and headed into the house, leaving Rawley with the certainty there was more to the story than Faith was letting on. Once she’d confided everything to him, but his departure had created distance between them—which had been his intention, only he’d expected to limit it to miles traveled, not trust wavering. So much needed to be said, so many amends made, but not now with dusk on the horizon and people waiting on them.
Traveling a path he’d journeyed hundreds of times, he stepped onto the porch and wandered into the house, where the fragrance of home wafted around him. No other place he’d ever visited smelled like this, like warmth, welcome, and love. The entryway was cavernous, but the rugs stifled the echo of his footsteps as he made his way to the stairs. He remembered the first time he’d ascended them, the fear and shame that had accompanied him. Now he trudged up with the confidence of a man who knew himself, knew his place in the world was wherever he wanted it to be.
At the landing he turned down the hallway and walked to the last room on the left. The first night he’d stayed there, Dallas had given him a key so he could lock himself in, lock other people out. Later, lying in that bed, staring at the ceiling, he’d felt safe, an unfamiliar peace coming over him. He’d thought he’d never want to leave.
It was a belief that stayed with him until the night Faith had come to his cabin—
Shoving back those memories, he pushed open the door and strode into the room where he’d sleep until it was once again time to make himself scarce.
Chapter Four
“I have a horse and a calf and a dog”—the scruffy mutt was sitting quietly frozen and at attention beside her chair—“and a chicken. I want a el’phant. Do you know what a el’phant is?”
“I do,” Rawley said from his place across the table from the little minx, who hadn’t stopped talking since they’d all taken a seat. “I’ve even seen one.”
“Me too!”
“A circus came through last summer,” Faith explained before he could ask where she’d seen one. It might have been the same traveling menagerie show he’d visited during his short stint in Colorado.
“I like el’phants,” Callie stated emphatically, looking longingly at her mother.
“We’re not getting one,” Faith said patiently.
The child turned her earnest attention back to him. “Do you like el’phants?”
“I like looking at them. I wouldn’t want to have one about, though. It makes a lot of mess. You’d have to spend your day shoveling out its stalls, then washing and feeding it. You wouldn’t have any time for playing.”
Her tiny brow furrowed as though she was seriously weighing the effort to have an elephant against her other choices. “I can swim. Can you?”
He reckoned with that blurted question, the topic was moving on from animals. “I can.”
“I swim in the river but only if someone is watching. Want to swim with me?”
“Maybe.”
