Montana Groom Of Convenience. Linda Ford

“Anyone coming?”

      The two adults remained rooted to the spot, watching Jill.

      “I can’t leave her,” Sawyer said. “What if she falls?”

      Carly slowly retraced her steps. “I don’t think someone who climbed a tree with a pup in her arms will have any trouble getting down with her arms empty.”

      Sawyer gave a low sound of disagreement that could be best described as a grunt. “I have no desire to stand by and do nothing and then see harm come to her.”

      “Me, either. But I simply don’t think Jill needs help.” Was the child playing games with them? Perhaps testing them to see if she could make them jump to her tune? Like Carly had done when she was younger. Before she learned it was easier to do what needed to be done without waiting for or expecting approval.

      “Then why isn’t she coming down?” Sawyer moved closer to the tree and looked up through the branches and spoke to his sister. “You can get down easily. Just lower your foot to the branch below you.”

      Jill kept her gaze locked on the distance.

      Carly studied the child. There was something about her expression that made Carly change her opinion. Jill’s knuckles were white where she clung to the branch. Her lips were pressed into a narrow line. Perhaps the bump on her head had affected her balance. Whatever the cause, Carly knew the child feared to climb down and she nudged Sawyer aside. “I’ll help her down.”

      “I should be the one.”

      “As you already pointed out, the branches aren’t strong enough to take your weight.” Already she had her skirts tucked out of the way and began to climb. Again she came alongside Jill. “Can you let go of the branch?”

      “Not going to.”

      Even though Jill tried to sound tough, Carly caught the thread of fear in her voice. “Okay then, let’s try something else.” She edged closer to Jill, pushed herself to her tiptoes. “Climb on my back and I’ll give you a ride down.” If she made it sound like fun, maybe Jill would forget her fear.

      “Don’t want to.”

      So she wasn’t going to let go of that branch. Praying the branch would hold the weight of both of them, she hoisted herself up beside Jill. “Will you let me carry you down? It will be fun. Just like when I carried you off the street.” She pried open the fingers of one hand as she talked, hoping her conversation distracted Jill. She freed the hand and pulled one arm about her neck. Then talking softly to Jill, as she would with a frightened colt, she pulled the other arm about her neck. “Hang on.” She needn’t have told Jill to do so. The child’s arms about her neck almost choked her.

      Carly began to inch toward the trunk.

      The branch upon which she sat, creaked, cracked and bent.

      * * *

      Sawyer held his breath when he saw the branch under Jill and Carly bow. He would not stand here and be a spectator. He couldn’t live with that sort of memory to add to another he could not erase. He reached the trunk of the tree in seconds and pulled himself upward from branch to branch, ignoring the way they creaked under his weight. He drew even with Carly’s foot and clamped his hand around her ankle. He would stop her from falling no matter what.

      “I have you,” he called.

      “I’m on my way down.”

      They hadn’t fallen. His lung released a gust of spent air.

      “You’ll have to get out of the way.” Her voice sounded a little thin but then he had no way of judging whether that was normal or otherwise.

      “I’m easing down.” He moved one branch at a time, staying close enough he could catch the pair if they fell. He didn’t jump from the last branch until Carly and Jill were safely on the ground and then he stood face to face with Carly, Jill still clinging to her. He touched the back of Jill’s head. Felt her twitch. Dropped his hand. Did his sister find his touches objectionable? He wouldn’t let himself care about anyone else but this little girl. It pained him to think she resisted his affection. Though he knew he wasn’t good at showing it.

      “Everyone is safe and sound.” His voice seemed calm and steady. That was good.

      Carly eased Jill to the ground. “Go with Mrs. Arness.”

      Jill hesitated, then sauntered toward the woman.

      Mrs. Arness took each child by the hand and led them inside.

      Carly shook out her skirts, then stood straight as a post, her arms crossed. “I’m trying to decide if I should thank you or be angry at you.”

      “Angry? Why?”

      “For treating me like I couldn’t manage on my own.”

      A shudder snaked through his insides but he remained impassive and unemotional on the outside. “Didn’t you feel the branch give under you?”

      “I did and knew I had to grab the tree trunk. Which I did.” She tipped her head from side to side. “I didn’t need help.”

      “I didn’t know that. All I could think was I wasn’t about to stand by and do nothing. I know how awful that feels.”

      Her interest sharpened. “Perhaps you’d care to explain.”

      “Not really.”

      “Then let’s be clear that I need no mollycoddling.” She leaned closer. “I can manage fine on my own. I don’t need a man. That’s Father’s idea.”

      Something about her anger lit his own and he stuck out his chin. “I watched our house burn down with my brother and mother inside. I didn’t do anything to help. I was afraid to move. To this day, I live with regret over that and I’ve vowed I will never stand by and do nothing when I think someone is in danger.”

      She continued her solemn study of him. Something soft flickered through her eyes. “I’m sorry you experienced that and I accept your explanation as apology.”

      He choked back a sputter. “It wasn’t meant as apology. Or even explanation.” He reached for his hat, then realized he’d left it in the house and had to settle for scrubbing his hair back. “And you can forget I said anything about the fire. I don’t want to talk about it ever again.”

      She smiled ever so slightly but it was enough for her brown eyes to darken to molten chocolate and make him wonder if he was about to step into a vat of the warm, sweet liquid.

      He scrubbed his hair again and wished he had his hat so he could slap it on his head. He needed something physical to release the tightness in his chest as he stared at Carly.

      “Then why did you mention it?” she persisted.

      He stepped back and shifted to look toward the house. Anywhere but at her warm expression. “So you’d realize that my actions had nothing to do with you. I only reacted because of my vow.” He turned back to scowl at her. “And because you made me angry.”

      Her smile grew. “There goes your certainty that you feel nothing.”

      He rumbled his lips. “Won’t happen again.”

      The preacher rode into the yard and dismounted. He approached them. “Carly, your father gave his go-ahead. Don’t know what you put in that note but he chuckled when he read it and said, ‘Let the lassie marry that man. It might prove interesting.’”

      The preacher glanced from Carly to Sawyer. “Have I interrupted an argument?”

      Neither of them answered.

      “Perhaps you’ve changed your minds about this marriage?”

      Sawyer’s heart bounced against the walls of his chest. He should have been more careful of how he spoke. Not that it was something he usually had to concern himself with. But now, having seen a glimpse of his soul, Carly would have cause