Free High Country Bride by Jillian Hart

McKaslin, honey.”
    “But I gotta thank him for the bacon!” Earnestly, the little boy planted both dusty feet.
    “No need, little man.” Aiden filled the shaded doorway.
    James hopped back, his head tilted to gaze up at the tall man. “I can help. I’m real strong.”
    “I see that.”
    Aiden’s tone might be gentle, but she could see his white-knuckled fists and the cords tight in his throat as he marched back to the wagon. She didn’t get the feeling that he disliked children—no, not that. She thought of what he’d told her, and wondered if her children were a reminder, too. Her spirit ached for him, and she laid a hand on Daisy’s little shoulder, pulling her close to her skirts.
    “James,” she said softly. “Keep out of Mr. McKaslin’s way.”
    “But I’m helpin’.” James proudly climbed into the wagon box.
    “James.” She loved him for his good heart, but the last thing she wanted to do was cause Aiden more pain.
    “It’s all right, Joanna.” He swept off his hat, stopping to take a long cold drink. “Thank you kindly, for I’ve been thirsty. I see you already carried in what you could. I’ll finish up bringing in the furniture, if you want to help yourself to my kitchen and start on dinner. Finn and I will be in the field until dark. If you don’t mind, if you could bring our meals out to us.”
    “And water, too,” she said with a nod.
    “That would be greatly appreciated, ma’am.” He dropped the dipper back into the bucket and the hat onto his head. He had a fair piece of work ahead of him if he wanted the last of the south field cut before the Sabbath. “I’d best get crackin’.”
    “Come help me in the kitchen, James.” Joanna held out her hand. The boy gave a sigh but did as he was told, and followed his ma and sister through the whispering grasses.
    This wasn’t going to be an easy thing, having her here. Aiden steeled himself and held his feelings still. This was going to be tough on him. He’d learned that the right thing rarely was the easy thing. God was surely handing him a challenge when he’d put Joanna Nelson in his path.
    I hope I don’t let you down, Lord. Aiden slung a wooden rocking chair over his shoulder, rockers skyward, and lumbered back to the shanty.
    Already she had changed it. He set the chair down by the window. There was something different about a house with a woman in it. It smelled pretty, looked tidy, felt peaceful. The old tick on the bed was made up as neat as a pin with a colorful ringed quilt. A tiny crate of blue dishes sat on the floor next to the table. A towel embroidered with roses at the hem hung on the bar next to the water basin.
    The sound of children’s laughter drifted on the wind. Why that picked his spirits up, he couldn’t quite say. He stacked Joanna’s straw ticks and laid them flat next to the bed. She would be more comfortable with the second mattress between her and the hard dirt floor.
    The shanty wasn’t much, but it had housed his family just fine when he was a boy. The roof needed a bit of work, he thought as he stepped outside, but he would get to it before the next heavy rain. As he hiked up the rise, he caught sight of the children running in the grass outside the main house’s back door. The little girl gave a musical giggle and the boy let out a whoop as he carried his wooden horse high.
    Aiden tried not to think of the son he’d buried. The little boy he had never gotten to know. He swallowed his emotions, skirted the house and cut behind the barn. The sounds of the children seemed to follow him, those carefree, innocent sounds, teasing at the lost places within him.
    What was he going to tell his family? They were bound to find out come church tomorrow. This was only the start of speculation, he knew. His ma and middle brother, Thad, thought he ought to get married again. His mother would especially start quoting Scripture on the subject. Now, he wasn’t objecting to the Scripture as much as to his