The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart. Allie Pleiter

hang on that long.”

      Lars came and stood next to him, handing him a reply to bring back to Katrine. “I want your word, Clint, that you will protect her.”

      That was easy to give. “You have my word, Lars. On my life, she’ll be safe.”

      The oath took a bit of the strain out of Brinkerhoff’s face, but not all of it. “I will hold you to that, friend.”

      Clint grasped his friend’s arm. “One thing I’ll ask in return.”

      “Of course.”

      “When you build your new home, give it windows. Two.”

      The Dane’s brows shot up. “Windows? Why?”

      Clint allowed himself a slip of a smile. “It’s a long story for another time.”

      * * *

      The next day Katrine looked up from taking in a skirt that had been given to her—thankfully long enough for her tall stature but big enough to fit her and Lars inside, it seemed—to see Clint riding up to the house. The sight was a mixed blessing; she knew Clint would bring news of Lars, but it stung to know Clint could visit him while she could not.

      “I’ve found something over at the homestead you ought to come see,” he said, more for Elijah and Alice, who were bent over a box of new medical supplies Alice had received. The way he caught Katrine’s eye, she knew that remark to be a ruse in order to bring news of her brother.

      “Of course I’ll come,” Katrine said, then winced at the thought of how falsely cheerful she sounded. She was truly delighted to hear how Lars fared, but her words sounded unnatural.

      “Take the wagon,” Alice suggested. “And while you’re at it, take some of that ham Mrs. Gilbert sent over. There’s enough food in this house for a dozen church picnics. In fact, take a whole picnic and go sit by the river before you go.” Alice cocked her head to one side and eyed Clint. “You’re too thin. When’s the last time you ate a good meal that wasn’t at our table?”

      “Alice, leave him be,” Elijah chided with an affectionate smile. “Thornton boys have survived life long before wives fussed over us.”

      Clint looked as if he didn’t care for the scrutiny. “I’m survivin’ just fine, Alice. Don’t you worry none.”

      “Still, a picnic sounds nice.” Katrine put down her sewing. If she was careful, she could pack several extra things that Clint could take to Lars. “I could use a pleasant task.”

      Knowing looks shot between Alice and Elijah. The hour before, Katrine had sat with the couple and set the order for Lars’s memorial service. The task was far from pleasant and made Katrine’s heart feel sour and heavy.

      The minute the wagon pulled out of earshot, Katrine let out the frustrated sigh that had been building all day. “How much longer?”

      Clint needed no further words to know the subject of her question. “Can’t truly say. Longer than you’d like, I know.”

      Katrine looked at the sheriff. “How am I to get through the service tomorrow? All those mourning people? What will they think of us when they learn their sadness did not have to be?”

      Clint pulled the horses up and turned to face Katrine. “They’ll be glad you did what was needed to keep Lars safe. They’ll be worried for you and wanting to help you get back on your feet—which you’ll need to do no matter what. You can’t stay with Lije and Alice forever.”

      “Certainly not.” Katrine shut her eyes at the thought. Elijah and Alice were wonderful—compassionate and helpful—but their affection and closeness had only served to make Katrine more lonely for her brother. More lonely in all sorts of ways.

      Clint looked surprised. “Everything been all right? Lije and Alice treating you well?”

      How could she talk of such loneliness with Sheriff Thornton? “No, no, they are wonderful. It is just...” There weren’t even Danish words for the tangle of her thoughts.

      “They’re hard to be around sometimes,” Clint offered. “All that happiness wears on a person.”

      “Yes!” Katrine let her relief whoosh out in the single word. She could almost laugh at the pained way Clint made a face.

      She did laugh at the oh-so-accurate imitation Sheriff Thornton did of his pastor brother’s besotted smile. “All that ‘dear’ this and ‘darling’ that.” He joined in her laughter, and Katrine felt the weight of grief slide off her shoulders. She had not laughed since the fire, and it felt wonderful to remember there was still joy to be had in the world. “Still, I’m glad to see him so happy. He’s a good man and they’re good for each other, I think. Not everyone’s suited to be on their own.”

      “Yes,” Katrine agreed, more quietly this time. “That is true.”

      “He’s fine, Lars is.” Clint turned the cart down the path that led to where her home used to stand. “Worried about you. Worried about Winona.”

      “Winona.” Katrine had not seen the Cheyenne woman since the fire. Word was she had stayed on the reservation since that night. “Lars cares for her, I think.”

      “I think so, too. He asked me to tell her, especially since she can travel easily between the reservation and the...where he’s hiding out.” Katrine could tell Sheriff Thornton was taking care not to offer clues to Lars’s location. She liked that some part of him considered her strong and brave enough to venture out looking for her brother.

      “Someone else who can see Lars while I cannot.” She failed to keep the frustration out of her voice.

      The sheriff looked down at her. “I told him no.” There weren’t many people in Brave Rock who could tower above her like that, but it was more than his height that gave Clint Thornton his air of command. “Lars is going to have to do this alone. Don’t be thinking this isn’t as hard on him as it is on you. He wants to come home, too.” As he said those last words, the wagon pulled next to the ashes. “Well, when home is...”

      Suddenly Katrine did not feel at all like picking through the remains of her house. “I think we should have that picnic now.”

      The sheriff looked puzzled. “You do? I figured that was just a way to scuttle off some food for Lars.”

      So he had come to the same plan as she. “Well, yes, but...” She stared at the pile of charred timbers, then pulled the napkin off the basket in her lap. “I would rather eat ten muffins than deal with that today.”

      An amused smirk filled the lawman’s often-serious features. “Ten, huh? How many did you bring?”

      “Too many. I made too many. I needed something to do.”

      “Lars told me you bake when you worry.” He bit into a muffin. “They are fine indeed. But I’m fond of that bread you make, too.”

      “Kartoffelbrod?”

      “That’s it. Tasty, in a different sort of way.”

      Katrine smiled. “It is Lars’s favorite.”

      “Well, I’ll be sure to go on about it when we get back to Lije’s. That way you can make me two loaves and I’ll be sure to pass one on to Lars.”

      It would feel good to be able to send bread along with her next message to Lars. “I’d like that.”

      “See?” the sheriff said as he swung down off the wagon. “This ain’t as hard as you think. Just requires a bit of thought and patience, that’s all. Think of it like making up one of your stories.”

      This was nothing at all like making up charming stories to entertain. This was life-and-death and dark secrets that could get Lars killed.

      Chapter Five

      Friday morning,