Page 61 of If the Boot Fits

He cleared his throat. “My intentions toward Samantha are to keep her safe from whoever is stalking her. We haven’t had the chance to discuss much beyond that point, and I’m not so foolish as to think she won’t have an opinion on the matter.”

Asher wasn’t certain, but he thought he caught a mouth twitch that might constitute a smidgeon of a smile before Eli Dearing’s lips pressed back into a hard line.

“What I can tell you is that I care about Samantha very much. She’s a rare woman. One who is passionate about making the world a better place, not just for herself but for everyone around her. She’s smart, kind, and one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. Her faith in me is humbling and yet invigorating. She makes me want to be a better man.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on people.”

“I know that I don’t have much to offer when it comes to worldly possessions,” Asher admitted as he scooted to the edge of his chair, “but if at some future date, she is willing to consider my suit, I can offer loyalty, hard work, and absolute devotion.”

Dearing grunted. Not the most encouraging response.

“For now, though, why don’t we focus on keeping her safe? We can figure the rest out later.”

That eyebrow raised again.

Asher straightened. “Unless, of course, you’ve decided we need to pay a call on the sheriff.”

He held his breath, silently renewing his prayers for mercy.

Dearing unfolded his arms and slapped his palms against his thighs. “I’m not going to haul you off to the sheriff’s office, son. Samantha would flay my hide with that sharp tongue of hers, and I ain’t fully healed from the last tongue lashing she gave me.” He chuckled softly, then thumped Asher on the back, his gaze turning serious. “Truth be told, I feel better knowing you’re watching out for her here in town when I can’t. You’re no good to me behind bars.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe. You have my word.”

Dearing groaned softly as he pushed to his feet. Asher rose alongside.

“My daughter believes in you, Ellis. There ain’t no higher recommendation than that in my book.” He held out his hand.

Asher stared at the peace offering for a brief moment, then clasped the hand of the man he’d once considered an enemy, and who might soon be family.

“For Samantha,” Asher vowed.

Dearing tightened his grip. “For Samantha.”

28

Ten days had passed at Aunt Regina and Uncle Obadiah’s house, and Samantha feared she’d not last much longer. She looked up from her book to stare at the instrument of her torture—the mantel clock in her aunt’s parlor. The insufferable thing purposely moved as slowly as possible whenever it caught her alone. Which was far too often. Her aunt still paid calls on the ladies of the church each afternoon, while Uncle Obadiah closed himself off in his study to write his sermons and pray for his flock. Samantha knew she shouldn’t begrudge them their freedom or interfere with their duties, but each day that passed without her father or the sheriff finding her attacker fed her restlessness.

Everyone was doing their best to keep her entertained and busy. Her father and Clint came to supper every few days. Asher brought Jack for his lessons and stayed for dessert and coffee after the lessons concluded. Bess even stopped by one afternoon for tea. Samantha truly had nothing to complain about. Especially since Asher and her father had mended fences. Neither man had shared any details of the conversation that had taken place a week ago on Aunt Regina’s porch, but Jack had spotted them shaking hands when he went to invite his brother in for pie, so Samantha had taken that as a sign that her prayers for forgiveness and understanding between them had been answered. Something she’d thanked God for all week. After all the years of estrangement between her and her father, she couldn’t bear to have a new rift created between them.

Turning back to her book, she forced her eyes to roam over the words, but concentration proved difficult. Like a little brother bent on pestering, the mantel clock prodded her every second, it’s annoying ticktock growing excruciatingly loud. She couldn’t focus. Each tick seemed to reverberate like a gong in her head. Controlling her. Confining her.

In a desperate bid to escape the torturous clock, Samantha snapped her book closed, set it aside, and fled to the window. How she missed her afternoon riding lessons with Asher. The wind blowing her hair, the thrill of accomplishment each time she improved, the time alone with the man she had come to love.

The time had expired for Asher to return to the Bar 7. Yet he remained in Palo Pinto, just as he’d promised. The last time they’d talked, he’d told her not to worry about it. He’d find work at another ranch. He’d written to his foreman and explained the situation, and his former boss had mailed back a letter of recommendation that should help him secure a position. As much as she loved that Asher was still here, she hated that she was the reason for his dismissal. She pleaded with the Lord to provide a position for him, one that would allow him not only to provide for his mother and brothers but perhaps to have enough left over that he might afford to take a wife as well.

Letting the curtain fall back into place with a sigh, Samantha made a circle around the sitting room. Aunt Regina would likely end up with a permanent rut worn into the wooden floorboards with how many circles Samantha made on a daily basis, but moving eased the restlessness. At least a little. She’d only been allowed to leave the house once over the last ten days, and that had been for church. Her father had flanked her on one side, Asher on the other, with Clint leading the way and Martin bringing up the rear. Duke had never been much of a churchgoing man, but even he showed up last Sunday to assist with guard duty. Sensing a soul in need of salvation, Uncle Obadiah had insisted that both Duke and Martin join the family for Sunday dinner. She’d never seen a man shovel in his dessert as fast as Duke had that day in his eagerness to escape her uncle’s targeted attention. He’d made his excuses and left the house while everyone lingered over coffee and cobbler.

The sound of a key jiggling in the front door lock brought Samantha’s circling to a halt. Stepping around the end table with the hand-painted floral lamp, Samantha strode straight for the entry way, eager to greet her aunt.

“I’m home,” Aunt Regina called as she pushed the door inward. She drew up short when she spotted Samantha a few feet away, poised like a half-grown pup, delighted by the return of her mistress and ready to pounce.

A sympathetic smile stretched across her aunt’s face as she turned to close and lock the front door. “I see boredom’s been winning the war this afternoon.”

“I know hiding is necessary for my safety, but your lovely home is starting to feel a bit like a prison.”

Samantha stepped forward to collect the basket her aunt always carried when paying calls on the sick. It had gone out filled with bread, honey, and her aunt’s special blend of herbal tea that was sure to soothe even the sorest of throats. Samantha set the now empty vessel on the front table, where it would be filled with books, yarn, and needles on the morrow for when Aunt Regina paid calls on two of the widowed ladies from her husband’s flock. She read to one and knitted with the other, having gone through a dozen novels and at least twenty scarves so far this year.

Aunt Regina laid a hand on Samantha’s shoulder. “I’ve often thought waiting is one of the hardest things the Lord asks us to do. It strains our patience, faith, and self-control. Yet he promises good to those who wait on him.” She smiled as she untied her bonnet strings. “Hang in there a little longer, sweetheart. The end is near.”