Montana Groom Of Convenience. Linda Ford

late for that.” Her words were flat as if it didn’t matter one way or the other to her.

      He glanced at his boots. Wouldn’t hurt to clean them up a mite but already Carly headed for the door and, seeing how Jill resumed her former stance, he hurried after her, knowing Jill wouldn’t move if he didn’t.

      Jill looked from one adult to the other. Her eyes darted away.

      Sawyer guessed at her intention and before she could run, he caught her hand. She tried to jerk away but he had a good hold and they followed Carly toward the house.

      He studied it carefully as if it might reveal what sort of life was lived within its walls. A low, log structure. The roof sloped down to cover an open veranda. Matching windows stood on either side of the door. An attached woodshed with its own door. They reached the veranda and climbed the steps.

      “It’s small,” Carly said. “But I think it will be adequate.”

      For all of us, he added for her. “It looks warm and dry. That’s what matters the most.” Jill dragged her feet so that he was forced to haul her along. He would tell her everything would be okay but she had no reason to believe him given he didn’t have any basis for such an opinion.

      Carly straightened her shoulders, making him realize this was equally awkward for her.

      She turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepped inside and beckoned them to follow.

      Jill skidding at his heels, Sawyer entered a kitchen. He barely had time to register his surroundings before his gaze came to a man sitting at the table, his right leg stretched out, immobile in a splint.

      Sawyer’s gaze darted from the leg to the man’s face. Full white whiskers, snapping brown eyes, a full head of white hair. A big man. How did he sire a woman as small as Carly?

      “Dinnae stand with the door open. Come in and show your face.”

      At the man’s robust voice, Jill stopped tugging at Sawyer’s hand and pressed to his back.

      “Ack, now, no need for the lassie to be afeared of me. I dinnae bite.”

      Carly snorted. “But you growl a lot. Father, this is Sawyer Gallagher and his sister, Jill.”

      “Aye. Yer husband I presume.” He struggled to his feet and held out a ham-sized hand to shake with Sawyer.

      “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sawyer managed as his hand was swallowed up.

      “Well, now that remains to be seen. Aye?”

      Aye, indeed, Sawyer thought as Mr. Morrison leaned over to look at Jill.

      “There, there, little lassie. You and I will soon enough be friends.” With a groan, the man sank back to his chair and faced Carly. “And you, Carly Morrison—no, wait. It’s now Carly Gallagher—I suppose yer well pleased with yerself that you found a husband so quickly. Could be you’ve jumped from the frying pan into the fire.” He laughed heartily.

      “Sorry about your accident,” Sawyer said, taking in the strain about the man’s eyes despite his laughter. “What happened?”

      “Ack. What can I say? A foolish old man trying to be a hero.”

      Sawyer looked at Carly for explanation. “He tried to stop a runaway wagon and slipped on a patch of ice. The wagon ran over his leg.”

      “Aye and it would not have happened if some fool had not blasted his gun beside the horses.” He eased himself to a more comfortable position, then leaned forward. “Now let’s have a look at the wee lassie.”

      Sawyer peeled Jill off the back of his legs and pulled her forward. “Say hello to Mr. Morrison.”

      She didn’t respond. Her jaw jutted out and he knew she wouldn’t.

      He couldn’t force her to. Instead of trying, he glanced about the house. A big kitchen with the table in the middle of the room, the stove and cupboards to one side. A wide doorway opened to the living room. From where he stood, he saw a couple of comfortable looking armchairs, one with a table beside it and a scattering of newspapers and books. A footstool to one side of the chair. He wondered if that’s where Mr. Morrison spent some of his day.

      Across the kitchen was a closed door. To one end of the kitchen, another closed door. No doubt the bedrooms. He eased slightly to his left and saw another door off the kitchen. The house was small, as Carly said, but more than adequate. He’d shared crowded quarters with a dozen men and slept in the open under the stars. This would do fine for a home for himself and Jill.

      No doubt he would soon learn where he and Jill were to sleep and which rooms were used by Carly and her father.

      Mr. Morrison took the initiative with Jill. “Hello, little Jill. So yer going to be living with us now.” Mr. Morrison eyed the child without saying another word. The silence grew heavy and uncomfortable.

      Jill lifted her head and looked at the older man.

      Mr. Morrison smiled. “That’s better.” He nodded. “You have beautiful eyes. You should let people see them more often. ’Tis my guess you have a beautiful smile, too. I can’t wait to see it.”

      Sawyer could have warned the man it might be a long time before he did.

      Mr. Morrison sat back and Jill shuffled to Sawyer’s side. She didn’t touch him. She wouldn’t. Sawyer understood. But perhaps living here and being settled would help her remember a time when it was okay to feel something besides caution.

      “Well, if you’re satisfied,” Carly said. “I need to get some beds ready for these people.”

      Mr. Morrison chuckled. A pleasing sound that spread a little honey to Sawyer’s insides. “You mean your husband and his little sister?”

      “Uh-huh. I’m going to clean out the little storeroom.”

      “Aye. It will be a nice bedroom for the wee lassie.”

      “Or for the big brother.”

      Mr. Morrison sat upright so suddenly he groaned with pain. He quickly recovered. “Are you telling me your husband is going to sleep there? What kind of nonsense is this?” His voice rose.

      Carly dipped water from the bucket on the cupboard and had a long drink. “You said I needed a husband to keep the ranch. I got one. The ranch is safe. But I have no need of a man for any other reason.” She refilled the dipper and offered it to Sawyer.

      He drank, more to distance himself from this situation than because of thirst. “Thanks.” He returned the dipper to her and she again refilled it and offered it to Jill, who likewise drank rather desperately. She might try to distance herself from people but she couldn’t help but feel the tension in the room.

      “Are ye telling me this marriage is a mockery?”

      Carly seemed unaffected by the man’s loud voice. “Nope. Just a contract between two adults.”

      Mr. Morrison’s eyes came to Sawyer. Hard, challenging.

      Sawyer met the gaze without flinching.

      “Yer agreeable to this?”

      Sawyer nodded. He was getting tired of explaining it. “We need a family. She needed a man.”

      “That so? Seems to me a married man would be wanting to share his wife’s bed.” “Father! Enough. We agreed the marriage was for mutual benefit and that wasn’t one of them. We know what we’re doing.”

      Her father sat back. “Aye. So you say.” He grinned and stroked his beard, as content as a cat full of warm milk. “This will be interesting.” He rolled the r.

      Carly stared at her father, turned to look at Sawyer and he saw something that made his nerves twitch. A look of surprise, a flicker of fear and then she shrugged.

      “I expect it will.”

      A