Groom Wanted. Debra Ullrick

took the liberty of going through his stack of posts. She couldn’t believe how many women were looking for husbands. “How about this one? The postmark is from Mississippi.”

      He shrugged, then nodded.

      “Dear Mr. Lure. Me name is Samantha O’Sullivan. I be twenty-seven years old, six feet tall and one hundred and twenty pounds. Me hair is fiery red and me eyes are brown. Me pa said I must be gettin’ married soon afore I become an ole maid. I dinna want to wed, but me pa said if I dinna and dinna write to you that he would toss me backside outta the house.”

      Leah looked over at Jake and put on her most serious face. “I think she sounds just like what you’re looking for. You should write her back right away.”

      “You—you do?” The shock on his face pulled a guffaw out of Leah.

      “No, no. Don’t look so worried. I’m just teasing you, Jake.”

      Relief flooded over his face and his taut lips relaxed. “Whew. Had me worried there for a moment.”

      Leah sat up straight and in her best Irish imitation she said, “Blimey, Mister Jake. Ye must pick me. Aye, ye must, even tho’ I dinna wanna marry. And even tho’ me be gone in da head for even tellin’ ye such a thang in da first place, won’t ye please consider sendin’ fer me anyway and spare me from becomin’ an ole maid?”

      She laughed and so did Jake, but his laughter had a nervous flutter to it.

      Seconds later, Jake shredded that letter, too. “Next.”

      Leah continued reading the responses he’d received. Each one was worst than the first, but Jake didn’t shred any more of them— He just stacked them in a pile. She opened the last one and a photograph slipped out. Leah picked it up and her mouth fell open.

      “What you got there?” Jake asked.

      Leah slid her attention from the photo and onto him. “She sent you a picture.”

      “Who did?”

      Leah handed the picture to him and looked at the signature at the bottom of the letter. “Evie Scott. She’s very lovely, isn’t she?”

      “Yep, she’s pretty.” He said it with very little enthusiasm.

      Was the man blind or something? The woman was striking, and yet Jake seemed unfazed by her beauty.

      He laid the photo on the kitchen table. “Don’t care what a person looks like. I care about the type of person they are in here.” He pointed to his heart. “What’s her letter say?”

      Leah drew in a breath and read the letter. “Dear Mr. Lure. My name is Evie Scott. As you see, I have enclosed a photograph of myself. I am twenty-two years old, five-feet-seven inches tall. Ever since the War Between the States, men have been scarce out here in Alabama. It is my desire to marry and to raise a family. I am willing to travel out West and marry straightaway, or if you so desire, we can spend time getting to know one another first before a commitment is made by either one of us. Of course, I will expect proper accommodations for a lady of my standing and—”

      “Whoa. Stop right there,” Jake interrupted.

      Leah looked at Jake. “What’s the matter?”

      “Heard enough. She’s not someone I’d consider marrying.”

      Leah tilted her head and frowned. “Why? She sounds lovely.”

      “Obviously, she’s a woman of rank. I want a wife I can feel equal to. Not someone who comes from money.”

      She came from money, so why had he asked her to marry him? Wait a minute. Did he think she had turned him down because he didn’t have money? That bothered her. A lot. She didn’t care about that. But she didn’t want to ask and embarrass him, either. So she’d let it go. For now, anyway. “Okay.” Leah placed the photo in the letter and put it back into the envelope. “What now?”

      “Nothing.” He shrugged. “I’m in no hurry to get married. I’ll wait to see if anyone else answers my ad.”

      “Oh, okay.” She nodded.

      Neither spoke.

      “Leah.” Abby chose that moment to appear at the door. Leah looked over at her sister. “We’d better get on home or Mother’s going to wonder where we are. She may even send out a posse or the cavalry looking for us,” Abby said with her usual dramatic flair.

      “What time is it?”

      Jake pulled out his pocket watch and told her the time.

      “Sweet twinkling stars above. Abby’s right.” Leah scooted her chair out. “I’ve got to go. Mother will be worried.”

      Abby darted down the steps. Banjo followed her, leaping and hopping at her heels.

      “Meant to ask you, where’d that expression come from, anyway?” Jake asked, following her out. “You’re the only one I ever heard say it.”

      “Say what?”

      “‘Sweet twinkling stars above.’”

      “Oh, that.” Her face lit up. At the edge of the porch she gazed up at the sky. “When my father was alive, many warm summer nights we’d grab blankets and go lay outside. Father used to tuck me under the crook of his arm and we’d stare up at the stars. Father used to say that back in New York you couldn’t see them as clearly as you could here. He even made up a song about sweet twinkling stars above and used to sing it to us.”

      “How’s it go?”

      Leah turned her attention onto him, then to where Abby was, near the phaeton playing with Banjo.

      “Sweet twinkling stars above; there to remind us of our Heavenly Father’s love. Each one placed by the Savior with care; as a sweet reminder that He will always be there. Oh, sweet twinkling stars above. When my children gaze upon you remind them, too, of my love. Each twinkle is a kiss from me; a hug, a prayer, a sweet memory. Oh, sweet twinkling stars above.” Leah stopped singing in the softest, sweetest voice he’d ever heard. One filled with reverence and joy. And yet, her face now only showed sadness. “Okay. Now you know. And I need to get going,” she blurted as if her tongue were on fire, and down the steps she bolted.

      Jake caught up to her and they walked side by side until she reached her carriage. She stopped and faced him. All of a sudden, something barreled into her backside and sent her flying forward. Her face smacked into a firm wall. Her arms flung out, clutching onto something solid. Something warm. Something very muscular.

      * * *

      Jake stared at the top of Leah’s head plastered against his chest. Her hands clung to his upper arms as he caught and held her there. He froze in place and the air around him suddenly disappeared. Having her this close to him, her hands touching him and her head so near his heart, caused his pulse to buck and kick like an untamed horse. That had never happened to him before. Course, she’d never touched him that closely before, either. Still. What was going on?

      “Um, Jake, could you help me up, please?”

      Jake blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” As soon as she was steady on her feet, he released her.

      “What just hit me, anyway?” Leah ran her hands over her skirt.

      “Meanie’s what hit you,” Abby said from behind Leah.

      Abby had Jake’s pet goat by the collar, yanking it away from her sister.

      “Meanie! How’d you get out?” Jake grabbed the goat’s collar and tugged her close to his leg. The animal stretched her head toward Leah and started gnawing on her skirt.

      Jake yanked the cloth from the nanny’s mouth and tapped her on the tip of the nose. “Stop that, you ornery old goat.” Meanie latched onto Jake’s fingers and shook her head fast and hard.

      Banjo barked and bit Meanie in the