Authors: Jillian Hart
“I was thinking we might get the most peace corralling the little kids while my pa gets lunch on the table,” he said, guiding her toward the unusually shaped dwelling across the yardâthe home had obviously borne several additions to its structure.
She didn't miss how he allowed his brothers to outpace them.
“That would be nice for your motherâto let her get a bit of rest before the meal. I saw Ida follow her inside. Do you want me to fetch her?”
“If you don't mind. Why don't we meet in front of the house? There's a tree that offers some nice shade and a swing.”
He whistled for Walt as she detoured into the house, blinking in the dim interior.
She found Penny and the toddler in the living room, the woman standing with one fist rubbing the small of her back, watching as the girl played on the rug with a dolly.
“Are you feeling all right?”
Penny waved off Hattie's concern with a smile. “I'm so glad you could join us today. I've heard Maxwell speak so highly of you, it's a pleasure to get to know you a bit better.”
Hattie flushed at the compliment, remembering when Penny had come to the clinic that first timeâand how much Hattie's views on her son had changed since then. “Maxwell sent me to fetch Ida so you can rest a bit.”
“He is the most thoughtful of my sons,” Penny said. “I'll say thank-you and not argue.”
“Good!” Jonas called out from the kitchen. Hattie hadn't even been aware he was listening to them.
“Miss Ida, do you want to come swing?” Hattie held out her hand, and the toddler joined her moments later, giving Hattie a sticky palm to hold on to. The little girl's opposite thumb popped into her mouth.
Outside, Maxwell had Walt swinging wildly from the rope.
“Whee!” Ida cried as they got closer. “My turn!”
“Let's wait for a moment for your turn,” Hattie said. She settled on the ground on the opposite side of the tree's trunk, spreading her skirt around her and perching the girl on her lap, wiggling the dolly she'd brought outside with her to distract the girl.
“I hope you don't swing her quite so high,” Hattie admonished Maxwell when Walt whooped his enjoyment.
Maxwell laughed. “She's following in Breanna's bootsteps to be a little daredevil. Much to Ma's chagrin.”
Hattie found herself smiling wistfully. What would it be like to be free to be a tomboy?
Behind the house and across the yard, muted laughter and male voices came from the corral. Hattie let her gaze flick over the other brothers, still holding Ida lightly in her lap to keep the girl out of the way of the swing. There was Breanna, wearing trousers and tucked up next to one of her older brothers on the corral rail.
The men clustered around the enclosure, several leaning on the railing, talking and tussling with each other. She'd met several of them through social events or spoken to them in passing or at church. They were certainly a handsome bunch, although they were all so different, thanks to their different heritages. But it was Maxwell who stirred her senses and had since his return to Bear Creek.
A glance at Maxwell revealed he was gazing off in that direction, too, though he kept up the momentum of Walt's swing. Did he want to be over there with his brothers? Or did his far-off gaze mean he was thinking of something else entirely?
The silence between them, punctuated by Walt's squeals and Ida's quiet play, was not uncomfortable in the least. There was something about being with Maxwell that calmed Hattie, anchored her. And she was starting to think he might feel the same.
“If you want to go join your brothers, I can watch the children for a bit,” she offered.
His eyes careened to her, and this time he missed a push, causing Walt to howl, “Ma-ax!”
He caught up with the boy's swing but kept his gaze on Hattie. “I'm right where I want to be.”
Her heart pounded at his words and the intensity in his gaze. Finally,
she
was the one who had to look away. She smiled down at Ida, who was gently rocking her dolly in her arms, an action she'd probably picked up from Sarah.
When Hattie looked back up, Maxwell was still looking at her, but his eyes had softened.
“You'll have to show me the horses you've been working with,” she said. “I'm curious to see this animal that got the best of you.”
“Don't let her ride Midnight, Max,” Walt cautioned, voice and face serious even as he swung. “He's dangerous.”
She and Maxwell shared a smile at the boy's protective words, but Maxwell was entirely serious when he answered the little tyke and assured him he wouldn't put Hattie on the “dangerous” horse.
The dinner bell pealed, and several of the group around the corral whooped, just as Walt had moments ago, and turned for the house. Walt jumped from the swing before Hattie could cry out, landing on his booted feet and running for the house. Ida pushed up and toddled after him, crying, “Wait!”
Maxwell came to Hattie with dancing eyes and outstretched hands. She put her palms in his, and he hoisted her upright. He didn't let her go, even when she stood close. She tipped her head back to be able to look into his face.
His intensity had returned. His green eyes smoldered down at her, and she suddenly couldn't breathe properly. Her legs went weak, and she swayed slightly toward him. Close enough that she could reach up and kiss him, if she wanted.
He linked their fingers together, still staring down into her face. “Hattie...”
Where had the reticent, shy man gone? This man...she had the wild thought that he wanted to kiss her.
“C'mon, Maxwell!” a male voice shouted, shattering the illusion of privacy.
With Maxwell between her and the house, she couldn't see his brothers or who had shouted, but it was a reminder that they weren't really alone, even if she'd gotten caught up in him, in the moment.
He looked over his shoulder and then back at her and sighed softly. The action drew her gaze to his lips. She'd been sure that he had been about to kiss her.
“There won't be any food left if we don't get down there,” he murmured.
She nodded, raising a shaking hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.
But suddenly, facing his family was the last thing she wanted to do. Would they all be able to see the flush in her cheeks?
* * *
Later, Maxwell dared to link his fingers with Hattie's as they walked from Jonas's original homestead down the valley toward Oscar's place. Behind them, the small white dog followed.
Hattie's eyes met his. There was a new awareness between them.
Before lunch, when he'd desperately wanted to kiss her, she hadn't backed away.
He couldn't have imagined it, could he?
Hattie looked behind and her head canted to one side. He followed her gaze to see the white mutt behind them.
“Still following you around, hmm?” she asked.
“Yes. I suppose if I ever get back to medical school, I'll have to arrange for lodgings for him,” he teased. He wasn't used to this...this shared sense of humor, the joy of being with another person.
They shared a smile.
“You sure you don't want to ride?” he asked as they left the noisy family atmosphere behind and it became just the two of them againâas it had been under the big oak in front of the house.
“I'm sure. I'm not a very good rider.”
The fact that she seemed to be content to meander along at his side meant they would spend more time together, so he had no complaints. It would give him a little longer to ponder the near kiss they'd almost shared and try to wrangle up his courage to try again.
“Did you think your mother seemed a little off during lunch?”
“You noticed, too? She kept shifting and getting up....”
They shared a look, almost the same thought. “You think the baby will come soon?” he asked, though he could guess the answer.
“Mmm-hmm. Maybe even tonight you'll have a new brother or sister.”
She squeezed his hand; he loved feeling so connected to her. For once, his fears were pushed aside.
“After spending lunch with my family, you're probably thinking we don't need any more faces around the table.”
“Not at all.” She half laughed the words and just being with her lifted his spirits. “I'll admit to being a little overwhelmed in the first few moments, but I kind of like your big family. Everyone fits.” Her voice held a slightly wistful quality. She'd mentioned possibly wanting a family in the futureâhe assumed after her medical-school plans came to fruitionâand the fact that she fit right into his as if she belonged made him hopeful.
He would never forget the sight of her across the table, squished between Seb and Breanna. It seemed each of his siblings did their best to embarrass Maxwell throughout the meal, but more than once he'd found himself grinning foolishly at Hattie, enjoying himself regardless.
“Did your parents want more children?”
She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she might not answer. When she did, her voice was softer, more serious than before. “I think my father wanted a son to carry on his practice. When I was a teenager, I overheard something to that effect, anyway. But they weren't able to have more children, for whatever reason.” Her last words were matter-of-fact, as though she'd practiced saying them before. To convince herself?
Maxwell considered what to say. “I'm guessing he wasn't receptive to your plan to follow in his footsteps?”
She shook her head. The slight breeze had loosened some strands of hair at her temple and now swept them across her forehead. For a moment, he was distracted from the lingering sorrow in her eyes.
“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“Nothing more than what you probably heard at the clinic. He said we'd talk about it later, but every time I've tried to speak to him alone, he claims to be busy or leaves the room.”
She didn't try to hide her disappointment, and her trust in sharing such a sensitive topic with him pleased Maxwell.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “I know your pa's approval is important to you.”
She nodded slowly.
“What ifâ Have you ever thought that if you married, your husband might be agreeable to helping you get through medical school?”
He had no idea where the words came from. They surprised him as much as they must've surprised her; her head came up quickly at the same time the breeze gusted. She brushed several strands of hair from her eyes, but he could still read the slightly incredulous look on her face.
“Where do you suppose I would find such a man?”
Right in front of you.
Afraid of revealing too much of his feelings for her, he could only shrug, tongue-tied.
She went on to shake her head, vigorously this time. “Every man of courting age I've ever spoken to has seemed to want the same things from a wifeâsomeone to care for home and hearth and any little ones who come along. I've never met anyone who had the slightest interest in my ambitionsâin fact, I believe you're the only man who even noticed I
had
ambitions.”
He cleared his throat, but before he could find words, she asked, “What do you want from a wife?”
They were traversing dangerous territory. He pretended to be engrossed in watching their footing as they climbed the slight hill toward Oscar's place, if only to keep his face slightly averted and hope she couldn't read his discomfort. “I suppose...I suppose I'd like a partner. A match. Someone who would support me in my practiceâin whatever form that might take.” He couldn't help remembering the vivid flash he'd had of himself and Hattie working side by side in their own practice.
“But you do want a
family,
not just a wife,” she clarified.
He flushed slightly.
“More than anything.” It was his most closely held dream, after becoming a doctor. One that he hardly dared to believe he could have, after his upbringing with his mother's awful statements and then with what had happened with the two young ladies in college.
But somehow, being with Hattie ignited a spark of hope inside him. What if she was the one for him? What if Penny was right?
They crested a hill and more of the valley opened up before them, green and verdant. Oscar's herd spread across the grass, out to pasture for the day, each horse a healthy, vibrant color against the rich green of the swaying buffalo grass.
Hattie gasped softly and her grip on his hand tightened. “Oh, Maxwell, it's lovely.”
“Mmm-hmm.” But he knew what the horses looked likeâhe'd been spending day after day with themâand he couldn't tear his eyes away from her and the raw delight in her features. She shaded her eyes with her opposite hand, taking in both the animals and the scenery. His pa had chosen the homestead spot well, and Oscar's added land was picturesque, too.
“You want to meet some of them?” he asked.
Her quizzical gaze landed on him. “The horses?”
“Sure.” He gave a shrill whistle, and several of the closest animals raised their heads or pricked their ears. One, a sorrel mare that he'd been working with regularly, broke into a trot and then walked up to them. Maxwell pulled out the carrot he'd snitched from the kitchen and broke it into several pieces, one of which he pressed into Hattie's palm.
“I'm not very good withâ That is, it's very large,” she whispered frantically as the mare approached. Hattie stepped back.
“Nothing to be scared of,” he said. “She's a pretty gentle lady. Not the one Walt's been warning you about all afternoon.”
He slid his arm around Hattie's waist, heart thundering, and kept her anchored at his side. Reaching out with a carrot in his own palm, he offered it to the mare, who ate it out of his hand almost before he could blink.
He chuckled, and the horse whickered softly, bobbing its head. It stepped forward, lowering its head and reaching toward Hattie, who pressed into his side. Blood rushed in his ears at her closeness.