Mail-Order Christmas Baby. Sherri Shackelford

will.”

      He didn’t need to check his pocket watch to know they didn’t have much daylight left.

      The fabric roses Mrs. Carlyle had hastily pinned to his lapel sagged, and he stuffed the decoration in his pocket. Guilt gnawed at his gut. He hadn’t put up much of a fight against marrying Heather considering her past relationship with his brother, and he didn’t have as many regrets as he probably ought to.

      His anger sparked, the heat directed solely at his brother. If Dillon had returned for their pa’s funeral instead of trying to manage the entire Western frontier with his own two hands, he’d have been here for this fiasco. There was a pretty strong possibility the Blackwell name had been attached to Gracie as a matter of convenience rather than design. Any Blackwell would do, and Heather had gotten her second choice in husbands, no matter how much she denied her feelings for Dillon.

      He’d never know what might have happened if he hadn’t interfered, and the unknown haunted him. A part of him feared he was living another man’s future. Heather hadn’t chosen him, she’d been stuck with him.

      Heather appeared a moment later with Gracie perched on her hip. After securing the door, she made her way to the wagon. “I’m going to miss this place.”

      Sterling couldn’t imagine why. The old one-room schoolhouse sat at the edge of town, a relic of Valentine’s history. Though the population had surged during the gold rush, the town had never needed more than one school until a few years before. And then once the boom had busted, the town floundered. His pa had formed a town council, and they’d enticed a flour mill onto the banks of the river. A bakery had followed, along with a café and a second dry goods store. Families had soon filled the town. Despite the loss of gold, the population had surged back to over a thousand.

      The wood buildings along Main Street had been replaced with brick, and a gazebo had been erected in the town square. The old schoolhouse had remained, catering mostly to the farm children whose families preferred the old way of doing things. Heather’s lodgings had consisted of a single room addition with a potbellied stove for warmth and cooking.

      She anchored her hat with one hand and tipped back her head, gazing somewhat wistfully at the bell housing. “Mrs. Lane has promised to finish out the school year. The students probably won’t even remember me come next fall.”

      “Is there anyone we should notify about your move?” he asked. “Besides the postmaster.”

      “No. No one.”

      A jolt of realization kicked him in the gut. The children and that one-room addition were everything she had in the world, and she was leaving it all behind for Gracie. She had no family in town, no family anywhere as far as he knew. She was entirely alone in the world.

      The idea was sobering. He’d always had family around in one form or another. Even without his parents, he’d had Dillon. His ma had family back East, though she’d rarely gone back to visit.

      “Mrs. Lane will do right by the students until another teacher is hired,” he said. “I didn’t think she’d ever retire in the first place. The town council was surprised when you applied. It’s not as easy luring people out West like it was in the old days.”

      Her smile was tinged with sorrow. “You’re too young to remember the old days.”

      “Otto talks my ear off. I feel like I lived through the war between the states twice.” Her soft laughter chased away the sadness and warmed his heart. “We’d best go.”

      “I’m sure your men are impatient. They’ve been trapped in town all day.”

      “They aren’t complaining.” A lengthy visit to town without the promise of chores waiting was a rare treat.

      Grace tugged on Heather’s bonnet. “Ga!”

      “Even Grace is impatient,” Sterling said.

      “We’ve gotten to know each other quite well over the past week, haven’t we, darling?”

      Grace wrapped her arms around Heather’s neck and hugged her.

      Their obvious affection for each other left him feeling like an unwanted interloper. The two had grown remarkably attached in a short period of time. The difference a few days had made was astonishing. Heather wasn’t nearly as nervous and skittish with the child as she’d been that first day in the church.

      Though Sterling kept his own counsel, Grace’s anonymous past sat heavy on his soul, and the mystery surrounding her arrival left him uneasy. He’d never been comfortable with the unknown. Mysteries had a way of unraveling at the most inopportune moments. There was always a chance someone might come for the child. And while whoever had abandoned Grace had plenty of explaining to do, Sterling didn’t know who the law would side with if that person returned.

      One thing was certain. There was no way Heather was giving up the child without a fight. In the past week, she’d embraced Grace with her whole heart, and the depth of that attachment was evident.

      He climbed into the wagon and lifted Gracie up, then extended his arm. His new wife accepted his assistance, clasping his hand with her gloved fingers and releasing it almost immediately. He adjusted the blanket over the two of them and gathered the reins.

      Her gaze lingered on the schoolhouse. Anxious to be on the road before dark, he paused only a moment before flicking the reins against the horse’s backs.

      The sun was low on the horizon by the time they gathered the men, and Sterling kept the introductions brief in deference to the gathering dusk.

      “This here is Joe, Woodley, Ben and Price. You know Otto. They live in a bunkhouse on the property. They cook for and keep to themselves.”

      The men offered their congratulations and took their places in the back of the wagon. There was no room for Otto with Heather’s belonging taking up space, and the wagon tipped as he took his seat up front.

      Heather scooted closer to Sterling. She attempted to leave a space between them, but the uneven roads and rusty springs soon had them bumping together. They were wedged side by side from shoulder to hip. The warmth of their bodies mingled, chasing away the worst of the chill.

      Heather had gathered Gracie onto her lap. She kissed the child’s temple and smoothed the wild red curls from her face. Seeing the two of them together, a wall of emotion threatened Sterling’s composure. He was completely unprepared for the task ahead. He felt inadequate.

      He’d lived a solitary life these past few years. He didn’t mind socializing, and he had plenty of acquaintances, yet he’d never spent a significant amount of time with one woman. He’d never had to progress past perfunctory conversation. Women sometimes flirted with him, but he’d never been comfortable with the attention. He’d flash a smile and make a joke, and they didn’t take him too seriously after that. He sure wasn’t ready for the responsibility of a wife and child in addition to his other difficulties.

      Such as continuing to deal with the shock of losing his pa. It had dredged up many old feelings, and he was loath to sort through them just yet. He’d returned home and found a place he didn’t remember. In only two years, the ranch had become unrecognizable. The cattle herd had dwindled, the ranch hands were gone and the house was hollow and empty. Even with all the changes, returning to his deserted childhood home had exacerbated old hurts he’d long ago buried.

      His ma’s death had wounded him more than he’d realized. She’d been the one bright constant in his life. She’d doted on him, a fact he hadn’t appreciated until she was gone. His pa wasn’t interested in a weak momma’s boy, and Sterling had become a man when they’d tossed the first shovel of dirt over her casket. He’d erected a sturdy barricade around his heart after that and locked the pain inside.

      Otto glanced over Heather’s head and gave Sterling a wink. “Fine day for a new beginning.”

      “Indeed.”

      Sterling glanced away, turning his attention toward the horizon.