sure you will. You’d make a fine commissioner, Everett.”
“Thank you. But a single man is at a disadvantage in an election. To help me win voters, I’m going to need a woman at my side—an attractive, charming, intelligent woman with a spotless reputation . . . like you.”
An awkward beat of silence followed in which Sarah struggled for the right words. She hadn’t been expecting this.
“Was that a proposal?” she asked.
“Only if you want it to be.” When she didn’t reply, he plunged ahead. “How much longer can you spend writing letters and waiting for answers that don’t come? You don’t have to be a doctor. There are other ways to do good in the world, Sarah. I’m offering you one. What do you say?”
“You said you didn’t need an answer right away—that you’d give me time to think about it,” she reminded him. “I may need a lot of time. Months, even.”
His sigh carried an undertone of impatience. “I won’t start serious campaigning till summer. But I hope you won’t take that long to decide.”
“I’ll keep your timing in mind,” Sarah said. “But meanwhile, don’t consider yourself bound by any promise. If you find someone else—”
“I’ll take that into consideration. But it’s not likely to happen.” He caught her waist and pulled her against him. His kiss was perfectly timed and flawlessly executed. Sarah allowed it, even though it left her with no more than a pleasant tingle.
A rap on the door broke them apart. Sarah hurried to answer it. A youth in a ragged coat stood on the porch with his arms full of cut wood. “Do you want this inside, miss?” he asked politely.
“Yes, thank you.” Sarah stepped aside for him. As the boy piled the wood next to the stove, she reached for her slicker, found her gloves and medical bag, and made herself ready to leave.
“I’ll walk you to the shed,” Everett offered. “I’d saddle old Ahab for you, but last time I tried, he bit me.”
“It’s all right. I’ll manage fine.” Sarah gave the boy two cookies from the batch someone had brought her to pay for a headache remedy. She held one out to Everett, but he shook his head.
“It’s time the two of you were getting back to town. Thank you again for the wood.” Sarah watched them leave as she stepped outside into the drizzling rain. At least the cold, wet ride would give her time to think.
But as she saddled the grumpy old mule and mounted up, Sarah’s mood was as gloomy as the weather. There was just one thing she wanted. And thinking wasn’t going to make it happen. Only luck, and maybe a small miracle, could do that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER A LONG AND DREARY WINTER, SPRING HAD COME TO THE prairie. New grass sprouted under the melting snow to spread a fresh, green carpet over the land and sprinkle it with the earliest wildflowers. Ducks and geese, migrating north in long Vs, filled the air with their cries. Meadowlarks and blackbirds marked their nesting territories with their songs.
Far to the south, on the Texas plains, new herds of longhorn cattle had begun the long push north to the grasslands of Wyoming and Montana.
By May, the first herds were passing through Kansas and Nebraska. Joe, now a strapping eighteen-year-old, watched them from a distance as he scouted for wild mustangs. He knew better than to venture close. He worried less about being arrested as a rustler these days, but why take chances?
All the same, every time he saw a herd of cattle, he couldn’t help wondering if Benteen Calder would be moving more longhorns to his Montana kingdom. Nearly two years had passed since Calder had ridden away and left him to die under his horse. In that time, Joe’s bitterness had festered like an infected wound. Once he’d dreamed of going to Montana, getting some land of his own, and starting a prosperous future. But the act of riding out in a storm to save Calder’s damned longhorns had cost him everything.
And Benteen Calder hadn’t cared enough to save his life.
Someday, Joe vowed, he would get the justice he deserved. But right now, he had wild horses to find.
Using binoculars, he scanned the prairie for flattened grass, where a herd might have grazed or bedded down. Elijah had taught him where to look and what to look for. Wild horse bands tended to avoid cattle country—the two mares and the foal that had guided him out of the wash