Page 30 of If the Boot Fits

Asher fought from rolling his eyes as he dismounted to stand beside the queen of understatement.

Clint thrust his hand toward him the moment his feet hit the dirt. “Thanks for taking care of my sister, Mr. Ellis.”

Asher shook the boy’s hand, doing his best to hide all recognition from his face and act as if they were strangers meeting for the first time. “Glad I was there.” Not so glad he was here, facing another Dearing with the power to send him to prison. Hopefully, the distortive shadows of twilight would protect Asher’s anonymity.

Clint’s face scrunched slightly as he withdrew his hand. “Your voice sounds familiar. Have we met?”

Asher’s gut turned to stone. A lie jumped to his tongue, but he bit it back, searching for something honest to say that didn’t incriminate him.

“Mr. Ellis is the older brother of the boy I’m tutoring in town,” Miss Dearing explained, covering his awkward hesitation.

Seemed tonight was a night of rescues for both of them.

“Samantha?” Eli Dearing emerged from the barn, his anxious gaze seeking his daughter. When he found her, he strode across the yard with quick, long strides. “Thank the Lord above. You’re all right.” His hand settled on her shoulder, but he held her at arm’s length while he scanned her for any sign of injury. “Duke and I were about to ride out to search for you. What happened?”

“I had some trouble with one of the buggy wheels,” she said, completely glossing over the entire nearly-falling-to-her-death part of the story. “Thankfully, Mr. Ellis had agreed to escort me home and was on hand to offer assistance.”

Dearing turned his attention upon Asher for the first time. He scanned him from head to toe, then thrust out his hand. “I’m obliged to you, Ellis.”

Asher forced his hand into Dearing’s, somewhat surprised that flames didn’t ignite to scorch his palm. Shaking the hand of one’s enemy shouldn’t feel this . . . normal. Yet in this moment, Dearing wasn’t the callous landlord who’d evicted Mama Bess. He was a father concerned about the safety of his daughter. A concern Asher shared.

Clenching his jaw, Asher gripped Dearing’s hand firm and strong. He jerked a quick nod of acknowledgment, then released his grip and turned his attention to the horses.

“Here, I’ll take Dolly for you.” A middle-aged man in a blue shirt and tan hat stepped around Clint and held out a hand to Asher.

Presuming this was the Duke who’d been preparing to ride with Dearing to fetch Samantha, Asher handed over the lead line. “I didn’t notice any injuries,” he murmured, “but you might want to give her a thorough inspection when you brush her down. She had a rough time of it.”

The dark-haired man nodded. “I’ll take good care of her.”

As the foreman led Dolly back toward the barn, he called out to Dearing over his shoulder. “I’ll take Martin with me to collect the cart first thing in the morning, Boss. See what kind of repairs it might need.”

And likely see the drag marks from the axle scraping the road for close to a quarter of a mile. Samantha might prefer downplaying the danger she’d been in, but any man with half a brain would be able to piece together what had happened when he saw the cart.

“Thanks, Duke.” Dearing waved a hand at the fellow, but his focus remained firmly attached to his daughter.

Clint grabbed his sister’s hand and started dragging her toward the house. “I wanna hear everything that happened. How did the wheel get busted? How far from town were you? Did you fall out of the cart?”

Samantha laughed as she traipsed after him. “Goodness. One question at a time.” She paused long enough to glance back at Asher and lift a hand in farewell.

Asher grinned and saluted her with a tug on his hat brim. If Clint was anywhere near as persistent at pestering as Fergus and Jack, she’d have a hard time keeping the details hidden. Little brothers made cunning interrogators.

“I’d invite you up to the house for coffee, Ellis, but it’s getting darker by the minute, and I know you need to get back.”

“Yes, sir.” Asher fit his left foot to the stirrup and swung onto Bruno’s back.

Dearing’s gaze trailed after his children as they wound their way toward the house. “I lost their mother when Clint was just a babe, then came close to losing Clint last week. Now a scare with Samantha. Makes a man want to tighten his hold and never let his family out of his sight.”

How well Asher understood wanting to protect loved ones from hurt and harm. “I guess it’s good that the Lord never sleeps.”

Dearing peered up at Asher, then gave a nod. “That it is, boy. That it is.”

Asher dipped his chin, then reined Bruno around and nudged him into a trot. As he left the Three Cedars behind, an uncomfortable realization unfurled inside him.

Vilifying a man when one knew little about him beyond the wrong that had been committed was easy. Justifying the characterization when one found himself sharing a piece of common ground with the fellow proved much more difficult.

14

The next day and a half sped by in a blur as Samantha prepared not only for her next tutoring session but for her first riding lesson. The anticipation had climbed to such dizzying levels, her fingers tingled as she examined the lines of her new split skirt in the full-length mirror. She’d hidden behind the locked door of her bedroom all day yesterday, making over the most serviceable skirt she owned—a chocolate-brown gored skirt with button front. Its lack of trim and excessive pleating in the back made it the most suitable piece for the purpose. She’d crafted a panel out of the buttoned section to conceal the pantaloon seams she’d sewn beneath. When the time came to ride, she could unbutton the panel to hip level and gain the mobility needed to straddle a horse.