Page 87 of If the Boot Fits

“Yes, Mama.” Jack hopped down from the tailgate and hurried around to offer a hand.

Fergus moved a little slower, taking an extra minute to tuck his tablet and pencil into the pocket of his Sunday coat.

They’d all taken care to dress their best for tonight’s dinner. Asher most of all. For tonight was the night he planned to ask for Mr. Dearing’s permission to court his daughter. Samantha assured him it was a mere formality, that her father would never keep her from the man she loved, but Asher found it hard to share her optimism. When he compared himself to the wealthy cattlemen who’d been at her ball, men Dearing had handpicked for his daughter, Asher fell far short. No money to speak of, no land, no impressive accomplishments or beneficial connections. All he had to offer was his heart, his honor, and a strong work ethic. He prayed it would be enough.

As he climbed down from the driver’s seat, the front door opened, and Samantha stepped through the opening. The blue of her gown brought out the blue in her eyes, but it was the sparkle of delight shining within them that made his pulse leap. She rushed down the front steps as if she hadn’t seen him in days instead of mere hours. He opened his arms, and she came into his embrace without hesitation. For propriety’s sake, he didn’t hold her long, just enough to remind himself how good she felt against him and to drop a kiss onto her cheek.

“Don’t you look handsome.” She patted the lapel of his coat before stepping back and turning her attention and compliments to the other Ellis males flocking around her.

“What about me?” Fergus tugged on her hand, his little chest thrusting forward.

Samantha clasped his hands and held them wide as she examined him from head to toe. “You look fine, indeed, Sir Fergus.” Her gaze shifted to Jack and widened with comic extreme. “This distinguished gentleman couldn’t possibly be the rascal Jack Ellis, could he?”

Fergus snickered and Jack blushed, but he stood tall and proud with their mother on his arm.

Samantha leaned close to Jack and smiled. “Better not let the girls see you all shined up, or they’ll never leave you alone.”

Jack quirked a grin that had rascal written all over it.

“Bess.” Samantha greeted his mother with an embrace, and the two women shared a secret smile. “Is that the—?”

“The potatoes. Yes.” Mama Bess shot an odd glance at Asher before she waved Fergus over and handed him the basket. “I thought Mrs. Stewart might enjoy having something that you helped harvest.”

“How thoughtful.” Samantha linked arms with Mama Bess and led her toward the house. A few steps later, she glanced over her shoulder. “You can leave the basket on the table in the front hall, Fergus. Best not to interrupt Mrs. Stewart’s dinner preparations.”

“Yes, Miss Dearing.” Fergus’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

What was that about? Asher took a step toward his little brother. He needed Eli Dearing in the best mood possible tonight. Boyish pranks would not help his cause.

“Asher?” Samantha’s voice beckoned. “Are you coming?”

Settling for shooting Fergus a quick warning glare, Asher lengthened his stride to catch up to Samantha and Mama Bess so he could hold the door open for them while they entered the house.

Dinner was a warm, cheerful affair filled with laughter, stories, and food so delicious Asher would likely dream about it the next time he drew night duty with nothing but tinned beans and jerky in his pack.

Eli Dearing presided at the head of the table, his smile ready and his manners impeccable. Only the sling over his arm offered any reminder of the brush he’d had with death. Mama Bess sat at his right as the guest of honor while Parson and Mrs. Hopewell sat to his left. Asher had been glad to see Obadiah Hopewell looking much recovered after the scare they’d had the night of the fire. His voice still carried a hint of a rasp, but that didn’t keep him from bragging on the generosity of his congregation. It seemed they’d taken up a special collection to help Obadiah and Regina rebuild.

Clint and Jack sat at the end of the table with heads together, jabbering as if they’d known each other for ages while Fergus and Mrs. Hopewell discussed church mice and whether or not there were secret rodent worship meetings happening under the floorboards on Sunday mornings.

Seated at the center of the table, Samantha served as an elegant hostess, contributing to the various conversations around her with charm and grace. Yet it was the way her gaze consistently returned to him that swelled his heart with pride and restored a bit of his confidence. This amazing woman loved him. Saw something worthy in him. Surely her father would too.

The confidence he’d collected throughout the meal vanished the moment Samantha rose from the table and suggested they all retire to the parlor. She nodded to him as he hurried to help her with her chair, her eyes brimming with encouragement. He wished he hadn’t told her of his plans to talk to her father tonight. What if things went badly? Then he’d have her disappointment to carry along with his own.

Happy chatter flitted about Asher’s head like a swarm of mosquitos, irritating in its relentless buzz. His gut tied in knots, he dipped his chin to Samantha and slowly made his way around the people milling into the hall to find Eli standing at the head of the table talking to Mama Bess as he waited for his guests to precede him.

His mother excused herself the moment she spotted Asher, giving his forearm a squeeze as she passed him to join the others.

“Mr. Dearing, sir?”

The smile Eli had been aiming at Mama Bess flattened into a straight line as he turned his attention to Asher. He raised a single brow in silent question.

“I, uh, wondered if we might have a word. In private.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping Dearing hadn’t noticed them shaking.

The man smiled and pounded Asher on the back with his good arm. “Let’s go up to my study, shall we?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I believe you know the way.”

Asher bit back a groan. Could there possibly be a worse place for this conversation?

Keeping pace with Eli, Asher climbed the stairs, silently castigating himself for not anticipating this scenario. He and Samantha’s father might have come to terms regarding his little foray into illegal activity, but that didn’t mean his slate had been wiped clean.