A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,5

busier than usual. Had someone—? She couldn’t even think of it. She’d grown complacent. It was a small town. Everyone was friendly and watched out for each other. Burnsie at the store, Big Sam—blacksmith and livery barn owner, even old Ike, who seemed to be the local errand man, knew Sally and had, on occasion, brought her home when her curiosity had taken her too far.

Delcie’s insides felt numb. It was her responsibility to protect these children, but she had failed again. I must find her. Please, Lord, keep her safe.

A familiar sound carried on the breeze and she sighed in relief. Sally singing. She had to be close by, no doubt lost in her play.

Delcie followed the sound. It led toward the saddlery shop. Her heart sank like someone had filled it with lead. She tiptoed closer. Saw the sign. Open for Business. She reached the door that was ajar, and Sally’s voice was clearer.

She was inside the shop! Mr. Remington had said his tools were sharp and dangerous.

Delcie stepped through the doorway and blinked against the contrast between the bright sunshine outside and the muted interior. There was no sign of their new neighbor. An array of tools lay on a wide worktable. A tangled head of blonde curls peeked over the edge. Light flashed off sharp knives. Curiosity could end in disaster.

Delcie raced across the floor toward Sally. “Don’t touch,” she said in a hoarse whisper, not wanting to alert Mr. Remington to their presence.

Her foot landed on something that shifted and rolled. Her ankle turned, and she fell to her hands and knees, moaning with pain. “Sally,” she managed through her tears, “let’s go.”

Only she couldn’t get up. Waves of pain filled her with nausea.

At that moment, a shadow filled the door.

It was him. She was caught red-handed. Or rather, in an inglorious position. She forced herself to stand, grasping the worktable for support and gritting her teeth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass. We’ll be on our way.” Except her ankle hurt so badly she couldn’t step on that foot and when she tried, she thought she’d swoon at his feet.

She was not going to do that.

2

Ryder leapt forward to catch the woman before she fell. The little girl shrank into the corner, no doubt hoping no one would notice her or scold her.

He pulled a stool to the back of Miss Morton’s knees. “Here. Sit down.”

She sank to it, her face pale, sweat beading her upper lip. She held her lower lip between her teeth.

It was his fault. He’d left his bag of tools on the floor. Of course, in his defense, he hadn’t expected anyone to step on it. But his carelessness could have cost him a customer. Not that being responsible for injuring his next-door neighbor was any better.

“I have to get home.” Her voice shook, indicating her degree of pain.

“Can you walk?” He’d seen her try and guessed she couldn’t but maybe the pain had passed. Dare he hope so? He didn’t want to deal with a woman and a child. How ironic it would be to be forced to do so. “Why don’t you see how you can do now?”

She swiped her sleeve across her upper lip and looked out the door. “I can make it.” But she made no move toward getting up. “I’m sorry. May I sit a moment until I feel stronger?”

“Of course. Take as long as you need.” He’d had injuries that shocked him clear through at the time of receiving them, then the moment passed as did the pain. A momentary shock to the body.

Like the time Myra had…

He would not think of his little girl.

“Sally?” Miss Morton glanced past him, searching for her child.

“She’s still here.”

“I warned her to stay away. But she’s curious. Fears nothing, I’m afraid.”

He considered that for a moment. He’d wanted Myra to grow up free of fear, ready to face challenges, able to stand proud and strong. Instead…

“It’s a good way to be so long as she learns to recognize her limits.” He wasn’t sure what he meant by those words except all people—big and small, young or old—had to be aware that some things weren’t worth the risk. Not that he was about to lecture on that topic.

Miss Morton raised her voice. “Sally, please come here.”

The little gal trotted over, her face so innocent, her eyes so guileless, that he wondered if Miss Morton would be able to scold her.

The woman caught Sally’s hand. “You have no