that would mean to her pay. The money she had earned at the school in St. Louis had been so insignificant to her that she had never questioned when it came or how. She didn't have the experience to negotiate her way through these channels now that it was her only income.
"All right. If you don't mind, I'll help the children clean out their house tomorrow. I can't keep them here for very long. What will happen to them if we can't find their uncle?"
"Don't worry about it yet, Mrs. Peyton. If nothing else, the two oldest can find work and the youngest can go to good families. Let's take it one step at a time."
Jason Harding had all the tact of a buffalo. Evie held her temper since he was her boss in a manner of speaking, but she gave him a look that made him take a step backward. The fact that she didn't come up to his chin and was half his breadth had no effect on the fury blazing in her eyes. "You'll separate those children over my dead body, Mr. Harding. They need each other now more than ever before. Try thinking what it would be like without your own brother."
Swinging on her heel and stalking off before she could say more, Evie was halfway up the stairs before she realized Harding had called her Mrs. Peyton. Tyler hadn't told him of their marriage.
She didn't know whether that was good or bad. She didn't know how he could disguise the fact since the preacher traveled through here regularly. Ben and Daniel might keep their mouths shut if ordered, but what would that prove? They were still married, legally and in the eyes of the church. Closing their eyes to the truth wouldn't solve anything.
But she had too many other things on her mind to worry about that one right now. Tyler Monteigne could wait for another day.
Tyler wasn't in any humor to wait for another day. He had spent the day shoveling mud out of John's cafe and hauling supplies so there would be food to eat that night. He had struggled with his fury and nearly floored Ben for suggesting they check on Evie and the children at lunch. The battle between his conscience and his anger had taken more strength than the donkey work of cleaning and hauling.
But by the end of the day, his feet automatically turned back to the hotel. He wouldn't think "home." He didn't have a home, didn't want a home, didn't need a home. Coming to Texas had stirred him out of the rut he had fallen into in Natchez. He had always planned to travel. He had taken a few trips up and down the Mississippi, but he had seldom seen more than the card tables of the steamboat cabin. Now he meant to see the country. He'd settle things here and be moving on when he'd seen enough.
Evie would understand. He'd buy her a divorce in Houston. He'd heard it could be done. If no one knew they were married, then no one could complain of the scandal. She'd be as relieved as he, he was certain. It might take a bit of a bribe to make the Reverend Cleveland understand, but Tyler suspected it could be done. The preacher would be out riding circuit shortly anyway. When he came back, Tyler would be gone, a ninety-day wonder. A man of the cloth would be too sympathetic to say anything aloud.
Wiping his dirty face wearily, Tyler knocked at Evie's door. It wasn't home if you had to knock, he reasoned. He could hear them in there. Why didn't they answer? With a scowl, he threw open the door.
The first thing he noticed was the enormous bouquet Evie had created out of the flowers he had given her.
They made a spray of color on the dull wall over the bed where she had placed them on a shelf out of reach of little hands.
The next thing he noticed was the youngest boy scampering back into place behind the baby and in front of the next oldest boy. The girl and Evie stood behind them. Once the wanderer was in place, they beamed and began to sing about "Wayfarin' Strangers."
If that was supposed to mean him, Tyler wasn't impressed. The scent of fresh bread had his gaze wandering to a table beside the window. There hadn't been a table there this morning. A damask tablecloth covered what looked