Oklahoma Sweetheart. Carolyn Davidson

what she is, Connor thought bleakly, living on property that didn’t belong to her, yet was unwanted by anyone else. It could probably be purchased for taxes, Connor thought, but Loris didn’t have any money to speak of.

      He felt the wad of bills in his pocket, touched the bulk with his palm and recognized that he’d barely made a dent in the cash James left behind for Loris. Maybe Loris would accept the cash more readily if he spent it on back taxes and she could live where she was, legally and aboveboard.

      The manure pile was heaped, the fresh bedding spread and the cow milked, all while Connor debated the options left to him. He brought the horses in from the pasture; indeed, they were more than willing to enter the warm barn and find their stalls. The cold was bitter, the wind biting through Connor’s coat as he headed back toward his parents’ house, a place in which he no longer felt the warmth of home.

      “You finished?” his mother asked, dishing up a bowl of stew for him. “Your pa ate already. He’s not in a good mood,” she said glumly.

      And wasn’t that the truth. The man had been deserted by his favorite son, had been left with one less pair of hands to keep the place up. He’d no doubt have to hire a man to help out. And that would involve finding a place for that man to sleep. Probably a small room could be made habitable in the barn, or else Pa might just hire someone who lived nearby, close enough to come in by the day.

      “All done?” his mother asked again. She’d been crying, her eyes swollen and reddened, her skin shiny as if it had been washed by a multitude of tears.

      “Yes, I’m not very hungry,” Connor said, rising from the table. Things were different with James gone. He’d always been the joker, the one with a ready wit and a tall tale to tell over the supper table. Now they were reduced to eating separately, for he’d guarantee his mother had eaten standing at the stove. Nothing was the same.

      “Did you go see Loris?” his mother asked. “Did she know that James was gone?”

      “She knew,” Connor said quietly. And then decided he might as well fill her in on the mess James had left behind. “Loris is going to have a baby, Ma. And James is the father.”

      Peggy Webster’s mouth dropped open, but no words came forth. She wiped her hands on the front of her apron, then stuffed them in the voluminous pockets, still silent.

      “And before you ask, James knew when he left that Loris was bound to be abandoned by her folks. They kicked her out last night.”

      “Where is she?”

      “In a deserted farmhouse. I followed her tracks and found her this morning. Got her some supplies and chopped a bit of wood for her.”

      “James wouldn’t marry her?” Her voice was dull, her eyes hopeless, as if she couldn’t imagine her son ignoring his responsibilities so casually. “He got her in the family way and just ran off? I can’t believe your brother would do that.”

      “He gave me some money for her, but she doesn’t want to accept it,” Connor said, deliberately concealing his planned use of the cash.

      “And Minnie threw her out? It was bitter cold last night.”

      “Minnie Peterson doesn’t act like she gives a good gol-dern about her daughter, Ma. I saw her this morning, and she was as cold as any woman I’ve ever seen.”

      “Maybe she’ll change her mind. After all, that’s her grandchild Loris is carrying.”

      “It’s your grandchild, too,” Connor said softly, and watched as that fact sank into his mother’s conscious mind.

      “So it is,” she said idly, smoothing her apron with a practiced touch. “Would she come here, do you suppose?”

      “Loris?” And at his mother’s nod, Connor shook his head. “I doubt she wants much to do with any of us right now. She’s got pride aplenty, and she’s bound and determined to make it on her own.”

      His mother stood silent a moment, then spoke words that sounded almost spiteful, he thought. “James must have had good reason not to stick up for her. Maybe she’s just bad news.” She paused and then sighed, rather dramatically, he thought. “But you’re going to help her, aren’t you, Connor?”

      He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll help her, Ma. As much as she’ll let me.”

      He’d go to town tomorrow and check at the tax office, see what was owed on the place where Loris had camped out. Find out if he could pay the taxes and take over the farm.

      In the meantime, he’d do well to ride out there and be sure she was all right, staying on her own in a deserted house, with no gun or even a dog to keep her safe. In ten minutes, he’d saddled his horse and donned his heaviest coat. A warm scarf circled his throat and heavy gloves warmed his fingers. From the kitchen, his mother watched as he rode away and he offered her a wave of his hand, causing her to lift her own palm to press against the window. It was a gesture he’d seen many times before, whenever one of her menfolk had left home and she couldn’t bear to wave goodbye.

      The Webster place was on the opposite end of town from Loris’s haven, and Connor made his way past the business establishments. Everyone was gone home for the night, only the saloon still being lit, with voices sounding loudly within.

      He passed the home Loris had lived in all of her life, noting the lights glowing in the front parlor and in a bedroom window upstairs. How they could rest, not knowing where their daughter was, was beyond him. Didn’t they care? Or did their hurt run so deeply they couldn’t allow themselves to yearn for their girl?

      He rode on, past the lighted houses where folks were readying for bed. And then he spotted the farmhouse where Loris was keeping warm. He rode to the back yard, tied his horse to an upright post and climbed the three steps to the wide porch. Through the window, he caught sight of a shadowed figure, passing between himself and the lamp glow.

      His knuckles rapped twice on the door and he called her name. “Loris? It’s Connor. Can I come in?”

      She opened the door, just a few inches, as though loath to allow him entrance. “It’s late, Connor,” she said softly. “I’m about to blow out the lamp and go to sleep.”

      “Where?” he asked. “On the kitchen floor?”

      “It’s the warmest place in the house,” she told him sharply. “And warmth is what interests me right now. I’ll think about using one of the bedrooms tomorrow, maybe. If I can get a fire going in the fireplace, I’ll probably use the larger room.”

      “I’ll light a fire for you if you want to sleep there tonight.” Something about the woman held him here, and he could not have spoken aloud just what it was. She was brave, willing to depend on herself, and yet he felt the aura of need flow from one to the other of them, a cry for him, lest he turn and leave her alone.

      “I’ll be all right on the floor. Truly,” she said quietly, unwilling, it seemed, to meet his gaze, looking instead down at the floor where her quilt lay. It looked to be a cold, lonesome spot on which to sleep, but it sure beat being outdoors. If it was what Loris wanted, he couldn’t force her to do otherwise. Still, he felt the urge to try.

      His arms encircled her, his body responded to her as it always had, and his mouth descended to touch hers with a tender touch. “Please, let me help you.”

      Her eyes were dark and seemed empty of hope. “What can you do? Chop wood? You’ve already done that.”

      “I’m going to pay the back taxes on this place, and then I’ll make certain that you have enough food to eat and wood to burn for a while. That way you’ll have a shelter to live, and I’ll rest easier, knowing that you’re not going to starve or freeze to death.”

      “You’ll pay the back taxes?” She frowned. “How can you do that? It’ll require a lot of money, Connor.”

      “James is going to provide that for you, Loris. It’s bad enough he’s deserted you, the least he