Page 12 of If the Boot Fits

Fergus wasn’t much of an outdoorsman, but Asher hated for him to feel left out.

The boy shook his head as he spread a thin, nearly transparent layer of jam across one biscuit half. “Nah, I got things to do around here.”

“All right. But when I get back, remind me to tell you about the mice I met last night who sewed a girl’s slippers to the carpet.”

Fergus dropped his knife with a clatter as his mouth hung agape.

Asher hid his grin behind a drink of milk.

“Sewing mice?”

“Mm-hmm.” Asher swallowed and set his glass down. “I thought you might like to introduce them to your barnyard friends. They’re uppity house mice, though, so they might not get along with everyone.”

Asher swore he could see the cogs turning in Fergus’s mind as his imagination cranked.

Within ten minutes, both boys were finished with their breakfast and excused from the table. Jack to dig out the fishing poles. Fergus to dig out a fresh writing tablet.

Mama Bess reached across the table and grasped Asher’s hand. “It’s good to have you home. The boys miss you so.”

“I miss them, too.” He rubbed his thumb over her thumb. “And you.”

She flushed with pleasure at his words.

He hated to chase away that smile, but he wasn’t sure when he would next have a chance to talk to her alone. “Why didn’t you tell me they raised your rent, Mama Bess? I could have sent more money.”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.” She shook her head with adamant force. “You give us too much already. You should be saving that money to start a family of your own.”

Asher frowned. “You are my family. You and Jack and Fergus.”

She turned her face toward the stove and nibbled on her lower lip. “It would have beggared you, Ash. I couldn’t allow that. Not when I really didn’t need all that land. They started charging me the same rates as a tenant who made a profit from farming or ranching. I thought I could bargain with Mr. Dearing, perhaps renegotiate an agreement that permitted me to keep the house and yard while allowing him to reclaim all the acreage we weren’t using. His manager refused my petition. He said the land was worth more with the house than without. He also hinted that Mr. Dearing had plans for the property, though he didn’t share the details.

“In hindsight, I should have agreed to leave when they first raised the rents, but I was in a state of denial. I couldn’t imagine living in a place that held no memories of your father. Jonathan found that job at the livery, and I convinced myself that the additional funds would buy us more time. Even if it didn’t cover the bulk of what I owed. When the first eviction notice arrived, I had just put the garden in, and you know how much we depend on that harvest to see us through the winter. I ignored the warning, hoping for a few more months of grace, but . . .” Her brow furrowed as if an idea had interrupted her train of thought. Slowly her head pivoted back toward him, her gaze rife with suspicion. “How did you find out about the rent?”

Asher was saved having to answer when Jack ran into the kitchen, fishing poles in hand. “I found ’em!”

“Great!” Asher grinned at Jack and rose from the table. “Go saddle Bruno for me, would ya? I’ll be right there.”

Jack dashed off, too excited about the prospect of fishing to read the tension in the room.

Mama Bess stood and took Asher’s arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. We’re fine where we are. Money is tight, and things are hard, but the Lord will see us through.”

His jaw tightened. “What Dearing did to you was wrong. I aim to do what I can to set it right.”

Her green eyes bored into his with such intensity, heat singed his chest. “If you pit yourself against Eli Dearing, you’ll lose. He’s a powerful man with the wealth and connections to ruin your life should he so choose. I won’t allow you to throw away your future over a patch of dirt. That’s not what your father would have wanted. Please, Asher, leave it be.”

Asher bent down and kissed her forehead, hoping to soothe her fears in a way honest words could never do. Because after what he’d done last night, there was a better than average chance that leaving it be was no longer an option.

6

Samantha strolled around the churchyard Sunday morning, making a mental catalog of the boots worn by the men milling about after services. She doubted her mystery man would stride through town with one boot that matched the orphaned footwear she’d hidden in her wardrobe and a second boot from a different pair. Nevertheless, curiosity compelled her to look. Well . . . maybe a little more than mere curiosity.

She’d dreamed of him the last two nights. Only, in her dreams, the stranger had rescued her, not Clint.

Samantha had always considered herself a sensible woman, not the type to get swept up in unrealistic romantic fantasies. Yet the idea of a handsome man of mystery dedicating himself to her protection proved far too tantalizing to dismiss. And the fact that he was a housebreaker? She’d never admit it aloud, but a tiny rebellious part of her liked the fact that he wasn’t afraid to defy her father. Too many men kowtowed to Eli Dearing in an effort to gain his favor and his business. It was refreshing to meet someone unswayed by the cattle king’s influence. She might not know why he’d broken into her house, but she knew he wasn’t a thief and hadn’t intended anyone harm. Surely a man honorable enough to risk his own freedom to rescue a floundering boy had to possess a noble heart. Like Robin Hood. Finding him would give her the opportunity to investigate his character, to determine whether he was the hero her dreams portrayed.

Or a petty thief run off the property before he had the chance to snatch anything of value.

Focusing again on the footwear ambling about the churchyard, Samantha continued cataloging boots. She ruled out the men who had feet either much too large or far too small to fit in the boot she’d found. A handful of others were eliminated due to age and physique. She’d not seen Clint’s rescuer up close, but even from a distance it’d been obvious that he had no paunchy middle or gray hair. Still, there were likely scores of men in Palo Pinto County who met her broad specifications. Close to a dozen roamed the grounds of the First Christian Church this very minute. None of whom wore the boot she sought.