Free Prairie Fire by Catherine Palmer Page B

that I meant what I said. Let him understand. And, dear God, please let my heart stop aching for another kiss from his lips.
    “It’s time for me to go,” he said. “Say the words, Caitrin. Say them to me before I leave. I want to hear them one last time.”
    Oh, Father, make them your words! she breathed upward in prayer. Make them words of the Spirit. Let them come from you and not from me. Not from my heart.
    “Say the words,” he repeated, gripping her shoulders.
    She reached out again from her protective quilt and laid her fingertips against the side of his face. “You are precious to the Father, Jack Cornwall,” she whispered. “You are precious. And with the Father’s love, I love you.”
    “Caitrin Murphy.” With a groan wrenched from deep inside him, he folded her into his embrace. “Please don’t tremble. I won’t hurt you.”
    “Aye, but you will.”
    “No, I swear it. I know I’m rough and bullheaded. I’ve done wrong in my life. And sometimes I don’t think things through from start to finish before I act.” His arms tightened around her. “But I’d never hurt you. You’re something different, Caitrin. Every time you talk, little pieces of you get twisted around my heart. I don’t understand the way you think. We’re a matched pair, all right, but I don’t understand that God who holds you so tight and keeps you apart from me. I need—” he paused and she could feel him searching—“I need … something from you. I don’t know what it is.”
    “Maybe ’tis the three words. Not the ones you keep after me to say. Those others.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered into his ear. “ You are precious. Just think of it, Jack. You are precious to the Father—”
    “Caitrin?” Rosie Mills’s voice rose to a note just short of a shriek. She was striding across the barn floor, a lantern hanging from her hand. “Caitie, what are you doing? Who’s that with you?”
    Caitrin jumped, but Jack pulled her close again. “It’s all right, Miss Mills,” he said. “Caitrin’s been out here talking to me.”
    Rosie’s eyes widened as they darted from one face to the other. Then her mouth fell open. “Caitie!” she gasped. “That’s Jack Cornwall!”

CHAPTER 5
    I DON’T believe we’ve been introduced,” Jack said, assessing the astonished young woman who stood before him. He could feel Caitrin quaking in his arms, and he tucked her hand inside his to reassure her. “Name’s John Michael Cornwall, but most folks call me Jack. I’m Chipper’s uncle. And you must be Miss Rose Mills.”
    “You-you-you—” Rosie stammered, pointing a finger—“you tried to kidnap Chipper! Y-you grabbed me at the party. You shot at Seth.”
    “All true. But not until after Seth had kidnapped my nephew from the only family he’d ever known.”
    “You’re a Confederate!”
    “Well now, that’s a different matter entirely.”
    “Turn Caitrin loose!” she shouted. “You’ll never get your grimy hands on Chipper this way. Let her go, you—you Cornish snake !”
    “As I hear tell, Cornwall is not heavily populated with snakes, Miss Mills,” Jack said, working to hold back a grin. “And I’m not inclined to turn loose of a good-looking woman who wants to be held.” He bent to brush a kiss across her cheek.
    “Caitrin Murphy!” Rosie gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.
    At that, Caitrin shrank into herself, mortified at his boldness. Jack was momentarily surprised at her response, but reality quickly became apparent. Fiery and stubborn Caitrin might be, but her loyalty to the O’Toole family proved she was no rebel. It wasn’t likely she would fight them for the right to choose the man who would court her. And she would never defend a man with Jack Cornwall’s reputation in the town of Hope.
    The moment he’d been dreading had come. It was time to go, and he had made up his mind to leave with all the gallantry he could muster. If he could protect Caitrin from the hostility