The Bounty Hunter's Bride. Victoria Bylin

young mother. Who would take care of the girls now? Not this man with tattered clothes and bristled cheeks. As Dani turned in his direction, he paced to the front window. Standing with his feet apart, he peered through the glass, studying the sky like a man expecting a storm. Dani tried to imagine Patrick striking such a belligerent pose but couldn’t.

      The picture in her reticule showed a man with gentle eyes. He had described himself as wiry and slight, a man with the rounded shoulders of a dairy farmer. The stranger at the window stood six feet tall and ramrod straight. Judging by his stance, he bent his knee to no one.

      Dani knew better than to judge by appearances, but the stranger had declared himself to be Cain, the brother who’d surrendered to sin rather than fight for his righteousness. Cain had murdered Abel and been doomed to restless wandering. Even so, God hadn’t left Cain. Cain had abandoned God.

      Dani put her arm around Emma’s shoulders, then spoke to the man’s back. “Perhaps the three of us could sit down.”

      He faced her but stayed at the window. “I’ll stand.”

      In that case, so would Dani. “We haven’t been introduced.”

      “I’m Beau Morgan. Patrick’s brother.”

      Emma clutched a fistful of Dani’s dress. Dani took the reaction as a confirmation of a warning in Patrick’s letters. He’d mentioned his brother just once. He’s not someone you should know, Dani. Not a man I’d trust with my girls. Patrick had been vague about his brother’s shortcomings but clear about his intent. I made a will years ago, before Beau went crazy. As soon as we’re married, I’ll change it. I want you to adopt the girls.

      Dani’s throat tightened. Why had God taken Patrick now? Why not a year from now, after they were married and settled? Why not fifty years when they were old and gray? The questions rose like a vapor but vanished as quickly as morning mist on a hot day. God’s ways were higher than hers; His knowledge greater. At her mother’s funeral, Pastor Schmidt had preached from Isaiah, paraphrasing the ancient prophet. “Who among you walks in darkness and has no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord…” Dani had leaned on those words every day since her mother’s death. Isaiah had seen the future and persevered. Dani didn’t have his foresight, only her faith that God was good, but she knew how to persevere.

      She touched Emma’s cheek. “Your pa’s listening in Heaven, so I’m talking to him as well as you. No matter what happens, I won’t leave you and your sisters.”

      Did you hear that, Patrick? Rest easy, my love.

      Emma nodded in short bursts that made her eyes flicker with desperation. Dani lifted her gaze to the man at the window. What had he said to these children? Had he offered the slightest bit of reassurance? More than ever, they needed the comfort of familiar things, the promise they’d be together and that God Himself shared their grief.

      Staring back at Dani, Beau Morgan sealed his lips in a hard line, then turned back to the window. Framed by lace curtains and panes of glass, he stood with his arms crossed and his feet spread wide. If he’d been wearing boots, Dani might have been intimidated. Instead she saw a hole in the heel of his sock. A tug on the yarn would unravel the entire garment. She suspected the man’s life was in the same sorry shape and prayed he’d be eager to leave Patrick’s daughters in her care.

      Thoughts of the girls mixed with the scent of the lilies. Looking down, she squeezed Emma’s shoulders. “Can you tell me what happened?”

      Emma opened her mouth but sealed it without making a sound.

      Dani looked to the man by the window. Hate glinted in his eyes. “It was ugly. Emma doesn’t need to relive it.”

      The child shook her head. “I want to remember. He said he loved us. He said—”

      “Emma, don’t.” Beau Morgan glared at Dani. “Patrick was struck by lightning. Emma found him.”

      Dani gasped, then closed her eyes. “Dear Lord in Heaven, be with Patrick. Be will all of us.”

      The man snorted. “I wouldn’t call the Almighty ‘dear.’”

      Dani stiffened at the lack of respect. “Patrick had faith. He believed—”

      “That’s fine for him,” the man replied. “But the Almighty and I don’t see eye to eye, not anymore.”

      Emma choked on a sob. “It was my fault. I knew a storm was coming, but I didn’t tell him.”

      The man scowled. “It’s not your fault, kid. You didn’t make it rain.”

      “But I knew!” Her voice rose to a wail. “He went to see Pastor Josh about the wedding. I asked him to buy some ribbon for Esther’s dress. If he hadn’t gone to the store, he’d have been home before the storm.”

      Dani trembled with regrets of her own. Patrick had wanted a September wedding. She’d pushed for June. If she’d shown more patience, he’d be alive. She knew her thoughts were crazy. She didn’t control the weather. A lightning strike…What were the odds? She thought of Patrick’s last letter. Storms are common, Dani. Life here is hard. Are you sure you want to marry me?

      She’d written back. I love storms!

      Noah had built an ark. Christ had calmed a stormy sea. She’d seen blizzards in January, tasted the cold and watched tornadoes drop from summer clouds. She’d felt the fear and clung to her faith. Not once had God let her down. She refused to doubt Him now, yet how could she not wonder, just a little, if God had blinked and left Patrick to die?

      Weak in the knees, she led Emma to the divan. “When did it happen?”

      Mr. Morgan shot her a look of warning, then spoke to Emma. “Go upstairs. I’ll tell her.”

      “No!” the child cried.

      Did this man really think silence would spare Emma the memories? Dani had been the same age when her mother died. She’d brought home a cold from school. Leda Baxter had nursed her daughter and died of pneumonia. Silence had turned Dani’s childhood home into an open grave, leaving her alone with the same twisted guilt plaguing Emma. No way would she leave the child to suffer as she had.

      Dani took Emma’s hand. “What happened, sweetie?”

      “The storm turned the sky black.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “I sent Ellie and Esther to the cellar, then I came up here to watch for Pa. I stood right there.”

      She pointed to a spot in front of the side-by-side windows looking into the yard. Beau Morgan’s back blocked the view, so Emma leaned to the side to see around him. Dani craned her neck, as well, but he put his hands on his hips, blocking the view with his bent elbows. When Emma walked to the edge of the window so she could see the yard, Dani joined her. Standing behind the child, she placed her hands on Emma’s thin shoulders and followed her gaze down the road to a distant pine.

      “Do you see that tree?” Emma asked.

      “I do.” Dani looked at the charred branches and blackened trunk of a ponderosa. She’d passed it on the way to the farm.

      “I saw the lightning strike. The air buzzed, then everything went white and thunder shook the house. A minute later, Pa’s horse galloped into the yard.”

      Riderless.

      Against her will, Dani saw the pelting rain, the mud, the empty saddle.

      Emma’s voice cracked. “Lightning hit again. Everything turned as bright as day. That’s when I saw that Buck had no tail. His rump had a burn on it. I could smell the hair.”

      Beau Morgan reached across the span of the window and touched the child’s back. His sleeve rode up his forearm, revealing tense muscles and a jagged scar above his wrist. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

      As the child stared into the yard, Dani stroked her arms. The images in Emma’s mind were sacred, hers to share or bury as her heart demanded. The clock ticked. Chickens pecked