Page 65 of The Heart’s Charge

“Whoa, now.” Mark grinned and held up a hand to stop the runaway rambling. “She’s your daughter. She should have a name that means something special to you. My preferences are inconsequential.”

A relieved smile touched her lips. “Thank you. I was worried you’d be offended.”

“Not in the slightest.” Though it was probably a good thing he hadn’t had time to write to his mother about her namesake. As much as she fussed about him settling down and giving her grandchildren, she would be distraught to learn she’d lost her connection to a pseudo-grandchild. Then again, if the news came sandwiched between his rediscovery of Kate and a wedding invitation, all would likely be forgiven.

“I do still want to name her after you, though,” Fern said, drawing his mind away from Kate.

“As much of an honor as that would be, ma’am, no pretty little girl deserves to be saddled with a name like Wallace. Sounds too . . . sturdy. Like something that holds up a roof on a house.”

Fern smiled. “Only the first part. The last half of the name is rather feminine.”

He frowned. “Ace? Like the playing card? Makes me think of saloons and gambling. What’s feminine about that?”

Her smile broadened. “Take off the first three letters and leave the rest.”

Wal-lace. Lace. Of course.

His face must have cleared, for she nodded and said, “I want to name her Lacy. If that’s all right with you.”

Warmth spread through his chest, and he had to clear his throat before he could answer. “That sounds mighty fine, ma’am. Mighty fine.”

Fern smiled in return, a touch of pink coloring her cheeks.

She was going to be all right, Mark thought, as he climbed down and moved around to assist her. He offered his arm and escorted her to the door of the boardinghouse.

Once there, she turned to face him a final time. “Thank you, again. For everything.”

Mark relinquished her arm and tipped his hat to her as he stepped back. “God bless you, Mrs. Dawson. And Lacy too.”

“He already has, Mr. Wallace,” she said as she twisted the door buzzer. “He already has.”

By the time Mark made it back to the foundling home, unhitched the wagon, and took care of the team, his stomach was growling something fierce. Yet supper wasn’t the only thing stirring his hunger. He needed to get Kate alone to talk things out. Between taking care of Alice and tending to Fern, there hadn’t been time for him to follow up on his marriage proposal. To discover what had caused her to hesitate. Whatever it was, he’d find a way to fix it. God had brought them back together for a reason, and Mark wasn’t about to squander this second chance.

He stomped the dirt off his boots before entering the kitchen through the back door. Kate walked into the kitchen from the dining room at the same time. Had she been listening for his return? The thought made his chest expand. He tugged his hat from his head and hung it on a hook by the back door.

“I kept a plate warm for you,” she said as she moved to the stove and pulled a plate from the warming oven above the range.

“Thanks.” He rounded the table to meet her by the drawer where she was extracting flatware with her free hand. “Kate, I want you to know—”

Her blue eyes crashed into his. “Not now,” she murmured in a low tone. “Jonah and the others are waiting for you. He seems a little . . . perturbed.”

Jonah, perturbed? That didn’t bode well. And why did Kate look guilty? Only one way to find out.

Taking the plate from her, he tilted his head toward the dining room. “Lead the way.”

A spot at the foot of the table sat open. Kate placed his utensils down, then moved to the sideboard to pour him a glass of water. Mark slid into the vacant chair and met Jonah’s eyes across the length of table. Alice sat to Mark’s left with Abner a couple places up. Dirty plates on both sides evidenced where the other children had eaten before heading upstairs to play. Eliza sat next to Jonah near the head of the table, leaving Kate to slip into the chair at Mark’s right.

“So, what’s up?” Mark asked as he stabbed a piece of roast with his fork and lifted it to his mouth.

“Besides you and Miss Palmer hanging off the side of a railroad bridge?” Jonah raised an accusing brow at him. As if Mark were still some wet-behind-the-ears recruit prone to unnecessarily reckless stunts.

So, she’d told him. Either that or Alice had. He couldn’t blame them. It was too good a story not to tell. Still, Jonah didn’t have to get all bent out of shape simply because Mark had gotten within spitting distance of the pearly gates.

Mark chewed his mouthful of beef and prepped a bite of mashed potato. “Yeah,” he said after a quick swallow. “Besides that.”

Being the youngest Horseman, Mark was used to the others acting like overprotective big brothers. Shoot, the captain had hovered over him like a mother hen for weeks when he’d taken that bullet in the shoulder back in Purgatory Springs. Jonah had always treated him like an equal, though. Which meant the train story must’ve really rattled him to have him shooting Mark chiding looks across the table.

“Alice just told me you promised to take her out tomorrow to listen for one of the snatcher’s voices. You really think it a good idea to take a child into the kind of places where a man of that caliber is likely to be found?”