A Cowboy's Promise. Marin Thomas

“You’re wasting your money, mister. That horse is worthless.” Scott stormed out. A minute later the Mustang motor revved and the banker sped off.

      “Can we come in now?” Rose held Lily’s hand on the other side of the screen door.

      Matt pushed the door open and the girls went straight to Amy, wrapping their sticky hands around her legs. Had they sensed their mother’s distress? Amy’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. He came to her rescue. “What smells so good?”

      “Fajitas. Supper will be ready in a few minutes. Bathroom’s down the hall if you want to wash up.”

      He took one step, then stopped and considered his boots—boots that had been in a dirty barn all day. He returned outside and tugged off his Ropers, then padded through the narrow hallway.

      The bathroom was the size of a closet—room for a sink and a toilet, nothing else. He squeezed in, shut the door and locked it, then sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t condone men harassing women. Scott was nothing but a big bully.

      After scrubbing his hands he bent over the sink and splashed water on his face. He hadn’t signed on to be the widow’s caretaker. All he wanted was to breed his mares with the stallion, then hit the road. So why did he have this annoying urge to protect the three females in the kitchen?

      He’d rescued a needy female once before and that had blown up in his face. He was done with the white-knight routine. He’d make Amy’s mortgage payment because it was the right thing to do and nothing more.

      When he entered the kitchen, Rose was seated at the table—Lily in the high chair. “Where would you like me to sit?”

      “Doesn’t matter.” Amy delivered a large bowl of stir-fried veggies and meat to the table.

      Matt picked the chair between the two girls. Lily grinned. “Hi, you.”

      “Hi, you,” he answered back.

      Lily giggled.

      “She always says that.” Rose rolled her eyes.

      Amy sat across from Matt. “Two-year-olds tend to repeat everything you say,” she explained, then grabbed both her daughters’ hands.

      Head bowed, he waited. And waited. Then he cracked one eye. All three females stared at him. “What?”

      “We’re supposed to hold hands, Mr. Matt,” Rose explained.

      Feeling stupid, he gently grasped Rose’s fingertips and darned if Lily didn’t offer her chubby paw covered in baby spit.

      “Lord, we ask that you bless this food and…bless Mr. Cartwright for providing us with groceries today. Amen.”

      He allowed the comment on the groceries to pass. He decided if Amy did the cooking, he’d supply the food.

      “Mr. Matt.” Rose chewed with her mouth open. “How did you know we liked Silly Nilly’s?”

      He didn’t dare confess he’d stood in the cereal aisle for five minutes before he’d gathered the courage to ask a female shopper to suggest a treat for little girls. He shrugged. “You two look like Silly Nilly girls.” Rose giggled and made a funny face. Lily mimicked her sister, then banged her spoon on the tray.

      “Quit, Rose, or you’ll have Lily all worked up and she won’t eat.” Amy passed the warm tortillas to Matt.

      “Thanks for making supper.” He loaded his plate with food. He’d skipped lunch, wanting to get to work cleaning the barn.

      “How did things go today?” Amy asked.

      “Good. I scrubbed the stall.” Matt had disinfected everything that the stallion came in contact with including the cement floor. He wanted the animal to smell him and nothing else in the barn.

      “Is SOS eating?” Amy’s gaze dropped to her plate. He had a hunch her financial situation had forced her to scale back on feed for the stallion.

      “Ate everything in sight today.” Matt had stocked up on carrots and sugar cubes to reward SOS for good behavior.

      This afternoon he’d set a piece of carrot on the stall door and stood nearby, assuming the animal would be wary of approaching the treat. Surprisingly the stallion hadn’t balked at snatching the carrot from the top of the gate with Matt close by—which didn’t make any sense if the horse had been mistreated. At that moment, with SOS munching in Matt’s ear, he’d suspected Ben’s death had been an accident. His gut said something or someone had set the horse off. But what?

      After SOS had eaten the carrot, Matt had decided to examine the animal’s hide for wounds or scars that might signal abuse, but when he’d opened the stall door the stallion had gone loco. SOS had danced sideways, stomped and swung his head from side to side. As soon as the stall door closed, the stud had quieted. Darndest thing Matt had ever witnessed.

      “Rose, tell Mr. Matt what the rule is about the barn,” Amy said.

      “Lily and I can’t go into the barn.” The girl sighed dramatically. “Ever.”

      Although Amy put on a brave face, fear darkened her eyes. He understood and sympathized. She had a right to worry about the girls’ safety. Whether accidental or not, she’d lost her husband to a violent death and was determined the girls wouldn’t suffer a similar fate.

      “That’s a good rule, Rose. I bet you help your mom by keeping tabs on Lily and making sure she doesn’t wander close to the barn.”

      “Rose is a big help around the farm.” Amy smiled, sweeping the bangs off the girl’s forehead.

      The maternal gesture reminded Matt that his mother had left him and his sister when they’d been toddlers. He’d grown up with his father’s love and had basked in the attention of Juanita, their housekeeper, but by the time his father had remarried, Matt had reached his teens and hadn’t wanted a mother hovering over him.

      “I done!” Lily announced.

      “Yuck.” Rose pointed to her sister’s high chair.

      The tray was smeared with mashed bits of food. Hardly any of the rice, beans or shredded tortilla pieces had made it into Lily’s mouth. Food stuck to her hair, eyelashes, ears and Matt spotted a grain of rice protruding from her nose.

      “I don’t understand why she refuses to use her spoon.” Amy blew out an exasperated breath.

      Rose grinned at her sister. “Lily’s a pig.”

      The word pig triggered a snort from the toddler and the speck of rice shot from her nostril like a pellet from a BB gun, hitting Matt in the chin.

      “Sorry.” Amy sprang from her seat, wet a dishcloth and attempted to wipe her daughter’s face—not an easy task with the two girls engaged in a pig-snorting contest. Amy gave up, tossed the towel into the sink and ignored the ruckus while she ate.

      Matt was content to sit on the sidelines and observe the three females. Amy’s habit of taking a deep breath after every bite drew Matt’s attention to her bosom, which she had plenty of for a small gal. He tended to gravitate toward tall, leggy redheads, not short, curvy blondes. But Amy’s womanly softness snagged his interest.

      “Are you finished?” Amy asked.

      Had she caught him ogling? Matt tore his eyes from the front of her shirt. She nodded to his empty plate. “I’ll warm up more tortillas—”

      “No, thanks. I’m full. The food was great.” Actually the meat was a bit on the tough side and made him wish for Juanita’s cooking. He scanned the kitchen. The room looked as if a food bomb had exploded inside it.

      Pots and pans stacked in the sink. Dirty dishes and utensils scattered across the counter top. Food on the floor around the high chair. Leftovers waiting to be stored in the fridge. He eyeballed the door, contemplating a quick escape. Then he caught Amy rubbing her temples. Tired or upset? Probably both. The bank manager’s visit had