The Rancher's Christmas Proposal. Sherri Shackelford

of sterner stuff. Emmett hadn’t raised a wilting flower. She might have drooped a touch, but she definitely wasn’t wilting.

      Hugging her arms over her chest, she stood, crossed the short distance and stared out the window. Towns had personalities, the same as people. This one screamed respectability! The boardwalks had been swept clean of snow, lethal icicles had been chipped from the eaves and black smoke pumped merrily from the chimneys. Emmett had never lingered in towns like this. Respectability made him nervous. Perhaps that was why Shane had been so cold once they’d reached town. Maybe he sensed she didn’t belong.

      Which begged the question—where did she belong?

      Since arriving on the train, she’d known there was no way of watching the children without attracting unwanted attention. Her previous hunch had been correct; she was too young and too, well, too unattached. She’d spent twenty minutes escaping an interrogation from Mrs. Stuart in the mercantile yesterday. Even arriving on the same train with Shane had piqued the woman’s curiosity.

      The marshal focused his attention on Shane. “How’s that mare? The one that ran into the barbed wire?”

      Letting the conversation ebb and flow behind her, Tessa formulated a new plan. First, she’d take on an assumed name. While the subterfuge went against everything she’d fought for, in order to live an honest life, she had to remain alive. Even God had to understand that. Next, she needed an income. She’d checked the board outside the church the day of her arrival, but the only listings were for cattle hands and train workers. Neither of which was suitable. She wasn’t returning to Wichita with Dead Eye on the loose, and the next larger city was even farther away. She was counting her pennies already.

      “Shane, you’re wound up tighter than an eight-day watch,” the marshal said. He indicated the fresh blanket of snow outside his window. “You’ll end up frozen in a snowdrift if you insist on traveling in this weather.”

      “It’s not so bad,” Shane said.

      “Jo is worried.”

      “About the children?” Shane scooted forward. “What’s wrong?”

      Tessa’s attention perked.

      “They’re fine,” the marshal said. “It’s you she’s worried about.”

      Rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, Shane slumped back. “Jo’s got no cause for worry.”

      “Don’t do this to yourself,” the marshal continued. “The kids miss you. Of course they do. They’ll get used to the change. You might as well let them adjust now. When the weather turns ugly, you won’t be able to make the trip anyway. We all know that. Things will all work out. You’ll see.”

      The space between them thrummed with emotion. Tessa held her tongue for a full minute before blurting, “What do you mean the kids miss you?”

      The two men blinked.

      Shane spoke first. “The marshal and his wife, my cousin, are watching the twins over the winter.”

      “You didn’t keep them with you?”

      “You said I was a good father.” He stared at his clasped hands. “I’m trying to be. They’re better off this way, with people who can give them attention. This is my solution. It’s for the best. Better than Mrs. Lund, that’s for certain.” His startling admission ignited a flurry of self-recriminations. All this time she’d thought she’d done something wrong, that he was annoyed with her or, worse yet, embarrassed by her. Even with his face averted, she sensed his guilt.

      A tumble of comforting words balanced on the tip of her tongue and she held them there, hugging herself tighter. He didn’t want or need her pity. Having faced tough times herself, she knew the frustration of trite phrases and meaningless assurances.

      Why hadn’t she listened closer before? What had the marshal said? Something about the weather. And Shane did look exhausted.

      Tessa’s thoughts raced. Instead of running again, what if she stayed put? The town was far and gone from all the Fultons’ usual haunts. Dead Eye would stand out like a sore thumb around here.

      “Mrs. Lund was not a good choice,” Tessa agreed. Perhaps Agnes would consider letting her stay on at the boardinghouse full-time. There’d be no changing her name, the cat was already out of the bag, but she’d worry about that minor detail later. “Anyone can see you only want to do the right thing.”

      “It’s a big change.” He heaved a sigh. “We’re all doing our best.”

      Her stomach rumbled, and she pressed one hand over the noise. The boardinghouse provided a nice breakfast and lunch, but she’d been hoarding the bread and cheese for the next leg of her journey. Though she’d counted on the reward money, she’d also been prepared for a hasty exit. Another one of Emmett’s rules: hope for the best, and plan for the worst. If she ever saw him again, she’d thank him for all the excellent advice.

      Right after she read him the riot act.

      She recalled the reason she was in the marshal’s office in the first place and her optimism faded. She couldn’t put these kind people in danger.

      The door Cora had disappeared into earlier opened once more and Owen and Alyce raced through. They caught sight of Tessa and charged. A wave of pure longing sprang forth. With a shriek she knelt and gathered them into her arms.

      Cora followed close behind. “I tried to stop them, but when they found out Tessa was here, they were determined.”

      “It’s all right,” Shane said. “I planned on fetching them after the marshal said his piece.”

      “I’ve missed you,” Tessa squealed in delight. “Have you been keeping busy?”

      Owen held out his hand. “My ball.”

      “Yes, your ball.” Tessa beamed at Shane. “That’s two words together.”

      His grin was tinged with pride. “He started that just yesterday.”

      Alyce patted the ribbon at Tessa’s neck. “Pretty.”

      Tessa’s eyes burned. She’d been away from them for only a few days, and already they’d changed. They’d changed but they remembered her. She couldn’t recall a time when someone had greeted her with such unabashed joy.

      She scooped them close and laughed, then glanced at Shane and her smile faded. She’d never seen a man more crushed, more defeated. Being separated from his children was obviously tearing him apart, and her heart went out to him.

      Though they were little more than strangers, she’d give anything to take away that pain, even for a moment. He reminded her of Emmett, making all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. Trying his best in a bewildering situation. While she assumed the marshal and his wife were good people, clearly the twins belonged with their father.

      Cora planted her hands on her hips. “Shane, what you need is a wife. Why don’t you send away for one of them mail-order brides like the blacksmith did a few years ago? I’ve never seen that man smile so much since he got hitched.”

       Marriage.

      Tessa smothered a gasp. How had she overlooked such an obvious solution? She’d been so wrapped up in the details that she hadn’t seen the broader picture. The most obvious solution had been sitting right in front of her all along. Like it or not, the only guarantee of respectability was marriage.

      The edge of her ledger protruded from her satchel. The project was a lifetime of work. Instead of piecemeal efforts, what if one grand good deed erased all the other entries?

      The idea took hold and gained shape. She’d have everything she ever wanted: security, safety and, best of all, anonymity. Well, everything but authenticity. Her past must be left in the past.

      Owen touched the locket at her throat, fascinated by the shiny metal. The twins seemed genuinely fond of her.