Free Her Montana Man by Cheryl St.john Page A

apparently
    hadn’t known all that well.
    “That I said it or that it could be true?”
    “I don’t doubt it’s true. I have no reason to question you. I’m surprised that it’s a fact. I had no idea.”
    “We all have things in our pasts we don’t take out and kick around,” he said. “Wouldn’t do much good
    if we did.”
    He was right about that. What was done was done.
    She stepped toward the railing where he sat, and glanced upward into the vast expanse of black sky and
    spotted the hazy yellow moon.
    “So, you wondered about me?” he asked. “When others were talkin’?”
    “Some.”
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    “I wondered about you,” he told her. “Wondered why you walk into town every day at the same time.”
    “I went for tea.”
    “I know. But why?”
    “My sister insisted I have a little time to myself every day.”
    “You took care of her for a long time.”
    “Yes.”
    “Never got married.”
    “Are you pointing out the fact or asking why? Weren’t the reasons apparent?”
    “Wasn’t an accusation,” he said quietly. “Just an observation.”
    “Do people talk about my lack of a husband, or is that your own curiosity?”
    “Reckon I’m curious. You’re from a good family. Smart. More’n pretty enough.”
    At the combination of his words and the way he looked at her, her cheeks grew warm again.
    “My guess is you’ve set your sights a mite too high.”
    She had to laugh at that thought. “The fact is, I’ve been too busy to meet men, other than those my
    brother-in-law brings home for dinner occasionally, and most of them are married.”
    “Wasn’t always like that, was it?” He reached for her hand and held it. “I mean before Jenny Lee got so
    sick, back when you worked at the brickyard? There were probably beaus callin’ on you then.”
    His gentle touch broke down more barriers. “Maybe one or two.”
    “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”
    She succumbed to his teasing voice. The cover of night and his persuasive voice coaxed feelings and
    words into the open. “There was one special someone once.”
    His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and sent a delicious tingle up her arm. “What was his name?”
    She hadn’t said the name aloud in years. The prospect of doing so now made her stomach feel as if she
    was teetering on the edge of a cliff. “Forest,” she managed. “My father didn’t have any sons, and he was
    quite fond of Forest. He took him under his wing and taught him the business.”
    “I thought Royce was his protégé.”
    “Royce was his second choice,” she said, the fact giving her petty satisfaction. “I had an aptitude with
    numbers, so I was Father’s bookkeeper. It was while I was handling accounts and initiating investments
    that we became railroad and bank shareholders.”
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    “Impressive.”
    “Not to my father. He turned his favor on the young men. First Forest and then Royce.”
    “Did you love Forest?”
    Deeply buried hurts unfolded inside her. “I thought I did.”
    “What happened?”
    It seemed natural to turn her hand and grasp his hand in return, the gesture like an unspoken trust
    between them. “He left town without warning. Just…disappeared and was gone.”
    Her father had blamed her for running him off, but she didn’t tell Jonas that. All of it hurt, but taking the
    blame for her father losing his protégé still rankled. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong, unless
    giving her heart had been a mistake.
    “I always wondered if I’d ever see him again, but Silver Bend is just a drop in the world that’s out there
    beyond Montana. He could be anywhere.”
    “Man was a damned fool,” Jonas said with enough conviction to bring tears to her eyes. He must have
    noticed her reaction, because he tugged, and she let him draw her closer, right up until her thigh brushed
    his and