Page 80 of Heart on the Line

Lee peered down at her, his gaze heated, his breath a little labored. Yet a disgruntled frown wrinkled his brow. “Are you gonna let me talk now?”

Helen swallowed and gave a shaky nod. She couldn’t speak now if she wanted to, anyway. Too many emotions whirled in her stomach.

Lee’s hands gently skimmed down her cheeks, along her neck, and came to rest atop her shoulders. “I have feelings for you, Helen. Stronger feelings than I’ve ever experienced.” He squeezed her collarbone and raised an eyebrow at her as if warning her not to interrupt. “And it’s not just gratitude for saving my life either, so don’t think you can just explain it away.”

As if she would. Not when he was saying exactly what she’d dreamed of hearing from him. Her pulse fluttered wildly, joy swarming like hungry grasshoppers inside her chest.

He grabbed the nape of his neck. “I am grateful. Don’t think I’m not, but there’s more to it than that. There’s a . . . a connection between us. I feel it. And I think you do, too.”

He paused, his gaze searching her face.

Helen bit her lip, dug deep inside herself—past the fear of being hurt, past the mistrust, past the bad experiences of her youth—and leaped. “I do,” she whispered. “I feel it, too. But you’re leaving, Lee. You’re leaving.”

“Not forever.” His voice softened, his gorgeous green eyes glimmering with promises she wanted so much to believe. “Only long enough to finish this job.” He took her hands in his. Inhaled. Exhaled. “Can I write to you, Helen?”

Her pulse stuttered. This wasn’t simply an offer of friendly correspondence. Not with the way he was looking at her. This was more. This was courtship.

“Yes.” Her voice scratched, so she cleared her throat and answered again. “Yes, Lee. Please write to me.”

He smiled and lifted one of her hands to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to the back of her knuckles then cradled her hand against his chest, where she felt the thumping of his heart.

“Ready for a leg up?” The deep tones of Ben Porter rang out behind them, and Helen felt her cheeks flush.

Lee hesitated, holding her hand a few heartbeats longer before nodding to the freighter and releasing his hold on her.

Blinking to keep the annoying moisture collecting behind her eyes from forming tears, Helen stooped to retrieve his fallen crutch.

“Be careful with that left leg,” she warned as Mr. Porter hefted Lee into the saddle.

Thankfully the two managed the mount without much more than a pair of grunts and a clenched jaw from Lee.

He looked down at her, his eyes soft and full of promises. “Be watching for my letters, Helen.”

She gave a jerky nod and sniffed, far too close to losing her composure. “I will,” she rasped, reaching up to pat the horse’s flank near Lee’s leg.

Her heart throbbed with both doubt and hope, each battling for dominion. Meeting Lee’s earnest gaze, Helen chose hope.

I’m trusting you, Lee. Please don’t let me down.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your bicycle?” Grace walked side by side with Amos as he led his mount out of the station house paddock. “I could ask Mr. Porter to take it in the wagon for you.”

Amos smiled, his blue eyes shining behind his spectacles in a way that made Grace’s stomach flip. “No. I’ll leave it here so I have something to ride when I visit. I still owe Revolver Granny some cycling lessons, after all. Got to come back for that.”

Grace stifled a giggle at the nickname he’d given Henrietta Chandler. She slipped her arm through his and leaned close. “Is that the only reason you’ll be visiting?”

Amos gazed up at the sky and feigned great thought. “Well, I should probably check on that telegraph line I cut. Make sure it’s repaired properly.” Then he dipped his chin to face her, his features serious. “Oh, and then there’s the matter of Western Union relations.”

Grace scrunched her forehead. “Western Union relations?”

He nodded sagely. “Yes. It seems there is a great need to enhance relations between personnel from various Western Union offices in the area. I thought for sure you’d heard about this new measure. It’s a mandate intended to boost morale.”

Catching on, Grace fought back a smile. “I see,” she replied, trying to match his thoughtful tone. “I suppose I should plan a trip to Seymour to visit with Elmer Donaldson then. He’s the closest operator to my station, and he’s always been pleasant on the line. I suppose meeting him could boost my morale.”

Amos frowned. “Elmer Donaldson? No. As I recall, Harper’s Station has been assigned to Denison for morale-boosting meetings.”

“You’re sure?” Grace tried to tame her smile, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

“Positive.” Amos nodded sharply, his own eyes twinkling with humor.