The Rancher's Christmas Proposal. Sherri Shackelford

polite words in response. They were strangers. She’d never see them again. And yet she was no better than Emmett was—playing a game of smoke and mirrors based on assumptions. Worse yet, the game was all too familiar, almost comfortable, like donning one’s winter coat after a long summer.

      The shop owner returned and handed Tessa two folded flour sacks.

      “Their outfits are so pretty,” the woman said. “I’d hate to see them mussed.”

      Grateful for the shopkeeper’s thoughtfulness, and still feeling a touch guilty, Tessa knotted the sacks around the squirming children. A tug of longing surprised her once again. There was no reason to be maudlin. Emmett had loved her dearly, she’d never doubted that, but he’d always been slightly befuddled with having a little girl around.

      Over the years, ladies from the boardinghouses and saloons where they’d stayed had occasionally taken her under their wing, showing her how to fix her hair and dress properly. Sometimes she felt as though she’d had scores of mothers, and other times she felt as though she’d had none at all. Everyone had different expectations, and she’d spent much of her life puzzling out her role with new people.

      One way or another, she’d been searching for something elusive all her life. Just once she wanted affection without expectations. Someone who knew who she really was and loved her all the same. Her fingers tightened around Owen’s ball. An impossible hope considering her past.

      As the shop owner placed two bowls of ice cream before the children, a grim-faced Mr. McCoy stepped inside. He doffed his hat and took the remaining seat.

      Alyce snatched her bowl and lapped at the ice cream. Laughing, Tessa pulled the bowl away. Now sporting a chocolate beard, the toddler groped for her spoon. Tugging the utensil out of reach, Tessa wiped the sticky mess from Alyce’s face.

      Shane lifted his spoon and turned toward Owen. The boy worked his mouth like a baby bird.

      “They haven’t mastered the fork and spoon yet,” he said. “Sometimes it’s best if we assist.”

      “Of course.” Tessa stole a glance at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Is everything all right?”

      “We’ve decided Mrs. Lund is far too busy to watch the children over the winter.”

      “Perhaps that’s for the best. You’re a good father, keeping them with you. You’ve done the right thing.”

      He flushed beneath her praise and looked away. “Miss Spencer, thank you for your help. I hadn’t met Mrs. Lund before today. I had no idea she was quite so...harsh.”

      Tessa tilted her head. How odd the widower had never met his sister-in-law before today. Then again, she didn’t know much about how regular families worked.

      His expression turned severe. “She had other reasons for wanting the children. I can’t abide falsehoods.”

      Instantly chilled, Tessa ducked her head. “Have you considered placing an advertisement? An older woman, perhaps a widow, would not attract gossip.”

      There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes that had her wary. For a moment the idea of living in the wilds had struck her as the perfect solution. Before she’d realized the impossibility of such a plan. Despite having been raised by an unconventional parent, she understood propriety all too well. While she wasn’t particularly vain, she was too young and too unattached for the role of housekeeper. Which made losing her job at the Harvey House all the more catastrophic. There were few opportunities for single ladies. She’d seen the life of a saloon girl firsthand living with Emmett, and while she understood desperation, she’d do anything to avoid that fate.

      Shane collapsed back in his chair and raked his hands through his hair. “Abby had certain...wishes.” A shadow passed over his face. “I’ve backed myself into a corner. With winter coming, I’m running out of time. An advertisement could take weeks. I’d have to wait on the post. Then the applicants must be carefully scrutinized. We live in tight quarters on the ranch.”

      Tessa stared at the spoon clutched between her fingers. “I should never have interfered in something that was none of my concern. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”

      “You’re afraid of someone, aren’t you?”

      Her head snapped up. “Why would you say that?”

      Her acting skills had obviously rusted.

      “A few things. Like the way you sat so you could keep an eye on the door. And before, at the train station, you were as jumpy as an outlaw in a room full of deputies. Are you a runaway heiress or something?”

      Tessa fiddled with the lace at her collar. “Nothing so romantic, I’m afraid.”

      Clearing her throat, she glanced away. The outlaw-and-deputies analogy had struck a little too close to home.

      “If someone is bothering you,” he said, “perhaps I can help.”

      “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” Though she hadn’t expected an instant shower of riches, she’d thought living a moral life might result in a bit more reward and a bit less trouble. Carefully choosing her next words, she said, “I’ve attracted the attention of a somewhat shady character.”

      That wasn’t too far from the truth. Nor was it a lie. Dead Eye Dan was definitely a shady character.

      Shane’s eyes widened. “Who is this person?”

      “He, uh...he came into the Harvey House where I work. Worked. He’s been asking about me.” Which was also the truth. Maybe not the entire truth, but a good portion of it. “I have reason to believe he’s an outlaw.”

      A really, really good reason.

      She imagined Dead Eye Dan trolling through town with the daguerreotype picture of her that he’d flashed at the Harvey House. The picture he’d obviously stolen from her father. She’d seen such events play out before with startling predictability. As long as the outlaw concocted a believable tale, each person she’d met this morning would proudly declare her whereabouts. People enjoyed feeling helpful. Meaning the more time she spent with Mr. McCoy, the more she put him and his family in danger as well.

      Shane offered Owen another bite and caught her gaze. “Outlaws dine at the Harvey House?”

      “Everyone dines at the Harvey House. We have the best prices and our service is impeccable.”

      “I don’t doubt it.” He paused. “You don’t happen to know this fellow’s name?”

      Skirting the truth had the unfortunate side effect of leaving too many openings for pointed questions. Tessa considered making a run for the door, then discarded the idea. She’d only attract more attention. And, really, what harm was in a name?

      “He’s called Dead Eye Dan Fulton.”

      Shane scoffed, “That is the worst outlaw name I’ve ever heard.”

      “Not very clever, I know.” Tessa laughed in spite of herself. “He has a meandering eye. It’s terribly difficult to carry on a conversation with him because you never can tell which eye is looking at you... I’m rambling again.”

      “I’m curious.” Shane removed the flour sacking from around Owen’s neck and wiped his chocolate-covered fingers. “Why don’t you simply turn him over to the sheriff?”

      “Staying out of his way seemed the best solution. I wouldn’t want to anger him.”

      Or his brothers. She couldn’t very well tell Shane about the rest of the Fultons either. Just like she couldn’t tell him that if she turned in Dead Eye, the outlaw would guess her involvement in a heartbeat.

      The Fultons might not be the smartest men, but they weren’t the dumbest either. “As you can probably imagine, one does not rebuke the advances of an outlaw without consequence.”

      “I see your point.” Shane tipped the glass