Jodi Thomas Read Free Page B

hand over each one’s curls as if checking to make sure they were all well and happy. His dark eyes turned gentle as he tried to answer their endless questions. He kissed away the hurt from Johnnie’s cut finger and told the twins how grand they looked wearing his old shirts as nightgowns.
    A longing appeared in the pit of Joanna’s stomach and spread all the way to her heart. She never remembered being held by her father. It seemed every day of her life, all he’d ever done was give orders or criticize her for her shortcomings. Finally he’d given one order too many.
    Now she fought the urge to join the children and be hugged for no reason at all. As she watched, her heart aching, Colt looked up over the girls’ heads. For an instant she felt her soul stand bare before him, then she looked away.
    “Ladies!” she shouted over the children. “Say good night to your father and go back up to bed.”
    They protested until the loud slam of a door shook the room. Aunt Etta appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, her hair woven into rag curlers, her face pale with cream, and her eyes bright with fright. She looked around the room and relaxed. “Lord to goodness, girls, I thought the Indians had attacked from all the racket you were making.”
    Joanna placed her hands on her hips. “They were just saying good night to their father.”
    Before they could protest, Aunt Etta spoke up. “Well, get it done and up to bed.” She headed toward the stairs. “I guess I’ll have to settle you down with the story of how I was once captured by renegades and had to swim the Mississippi to escape.”
    The girls kissed their father and were even with Aunt Etta by the time she was halfway up the stairs.
    Colt unbuckled his gun belt and laid it across one of the stools. “I’ve never seen them go to bed so easily.” He stretched. “You’ve done wonders. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so clean either.”
    Joanna wanted to add,
Wait until you see your uniforms,
but only asked, “Would you like some stew?” The room felt suddenly quiet and empty without the children. “Aunt Etta left some warming on the back of the stove.”
    “You don’t have to get it.” Colt wasn’t sure how to act around her. She wasn’t a house guest or a servant . . . or a wife.
    “I don’t mind.” She disappeared into the kitchen. “I’ll sit with you while you eat so we can talk.”
    Colt sank into the rocker and stretched his legs out. He leaned his head back against the cushion that had been added to the chair in his absence and closed his eyes. Stew sounded good, but he didn’t want to talk. If he could figure out a way, he knew he’d never talk to a woman for as long as he lived.
    The memory of his wife drifted amid the smell of baking and home. They’d been happy those first few years. He remembered how he’d looked forward to seeing her at the end of every day. She was always full of laughter and dancing, like a little dream fairy who accidentally waltzed into the real world. But when Johnnie was born, things changed. Each night all he heard was how she hated being tied to the house with a baby all day. A year later when the twins were born, she hadn’t even waited until they were a month old before she’d left him.
    A rattling drew him back to the present, but Colt didn’t open his eyes. He heard the front door open and knew from the heavy shuffle of boots who approached.
    “Captain?” Buckles’s voice pulled Colt wide-awake. “Cap’n, are you asleep?”
    “No.” Colt forced his exhausted body to straighten. “Not any longer.” He ran a hand through his black hair. “How were things here while I was gone?”
    “Nothing happened that can’t wait till morning. I’ve mostly been helping the ladies get settled.”
    “Did you order anything they might need from town?”
    “Yes, sir.” Buckles dropped the wood in the pile. “They had quite a list. It may take a month or more to get some of the things.”
    “It