Free Prairie Fire by Catherine Palmer

the sake of Lucy. Lucy Cornwall—my pretty little sister.”
    Sudden heat raced into Caitrin’s cheeks. “Your sister ? But the letter said—”
    “What was it I put in that letter meant only for my parents’ eyes? Could you refresh my memory?”
    “Please forgive me for reading it.”
    “Me forgive you? I thought I was the wicked one.”
    “Sure, I’m wicked, too.” She could hardly force out the words. Her face grew hotter as she studied her clasped hands. “You wrote that you would return to Lucy and never leave her. You intended to keep her with you all your life. I never thought—”
    “I reckon you didn’t.” He stood and walked away.
    Caitrin bent over and buried her face in her hands. Oh, this was too horrible. She had all but confessed to the man an attraction she couldn’t admit even to herself. And she had mistaken his sister for a fiancée. She had to leave! The soddy would be warm and cheerful, and maybe she could put this wretched encounter out of her mind.
    “Cold?” Jack’s voice spoke behind Caitrin as he draped a thick quilt over her shoulders. “It’s starting to snow. They’ll come looking for you pretty soon.”
    “Aye.” She sniffled and clutched the quilt at her throat. “I must go.”
    “Just a minute.” He sat down beside her and slipped his arm around her. He had put on his jacket, but she could feel the bulk and strength of his arm through the fabric.
    When he spoke again, his words were rough. “I’m going to tell you about Lucy. Maybe after I explain things, you’ll see past my so-called wickedness to the man I really am. Maybe you’ll understand why I went after Chipper the way I did. For years my parents have been embarrassed to speak Lucy’s name beyond the walls of our house. I’m not sure Mary even told Seth Hunter about her. But I’m not ashamed of my sister, and I don’t mind that you read the letter. You see, Chipper meant everything to my parents. My sister Mary had died, and I was a grown man making my own way. In their minds, Chipper was all they had left of a real family.”
    “But what about Lucy?” Caitrin asked. “Why don’t your parents claim her?”
    “Never mind what they do or don’t do— I claim her. Lucy is my sister, and she’ll be my family long after the rest of them have passed on. Chipper already chose to stay here with Seth Hunter. My father isn’t well, and he’ll be gone soon. Ma won’t be long after him. But Lucy is young. And she’s …” He lowered his head for a moment. “Well, she’s troubled. But I’m going to take care of her, I swear it. I plan to take a job in a livery and hammer horseshoes from dawn till dusk if that’s what it takes.”
    “Your purpose in life is to care for your sister?”
    “Protect her. I’ll use my blacksmithing to provide for her. I learned my skills in the army. One day I’ll have my own smithy. But now—Cape Girardeau—I’ll work for somebody else to look after Lucy and my folks. I’ll save what I can. Buy some land. Put up a house.”
    “Then you’re a builder after all, Mr. Cornwall.” Caitrin let out a shaky breath, finally beginning to relax in the warmth of his embrace. “I said you weren’t, but you are.”
    “Maybe I am.”
    She ventured a glance at the man beside her. His face was so close she could see the texture of his skin. He smelled of shaving soap. Staring into a mist through which she couldn’t see, his gray eyes were depthless.
    “Your sister,” Caitrin whispered. “What is the nature of her trouble?”
    Jack looked at her, and she read the pain in his face. Clearly he was assessing her, weighing whether this mouthy, unforgiving, judgmental woman had the capacity to understand the sorrow that wracked him. Humiliated at the pride that had formed such a barrier between them, she reached out from between the edges of the quilt and laid her hand over his. Slipping her fingers through his, she became aware of firm sinew, callus, and a breadth that