Free A Free Heart by Amelia C. Adams Page A

them seriously at all, they have to make their intentions known. This isn’t a fancy city where you can take your time going to balls or fancy teas and get to know each other slowly. Sometimes these men are only in town twice a year, and if they don’t pick up what they need while they’re here, it could be another six months until they get another chance.”
    Harriet shuddered. “You make courting sound like a negotiation for goods at the general store.”
    “Sometimes that’s what it is. A man needs a wife, he sees a woman, and he makes a play for her. He’s also got to sell his pelts, pick up some flour and coffee, and get back to his camp before nightfall. He doesn’t have a lot of time to spend on it.”
    “But what about Elizabeth’s situation? She had to shoot and kill a man. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He was looking to harm her.”
    Tom studied the road as he replied, “Not every man in Kansas is like that, and men like that aren’t limited to Kansas. I came with you for a reason, Miss Martin. You shouldn’t be surprised—I warned you what could happen.”
    Harriet fell silent as they clip-clopped down the road. She had resisted his help at first, but now she was overwhelmed with gratitude for it.
    The farther away from town they drove, the houses became more and more spread out, and their condition deteriorated as well. Finally, Tom pulled the buggy up at the front gate of a small, but neat cottage, the nicest one along that stretch. “From what the owner of the livery stable said, this should be it.”
    Harriet stared at the house, her pulse quickening. Her heart was suddenly in her throat, and she wondered if this had been a foolish mistake. Perhaps they should have checked into a hotel first and gotten cleaned up. She was certain she was covered in several layers of grime after that long train ride, and that wasn’t how she wanted to present herself to Jane. She was just about to suggest to Tom that they leave and come back in an hour or two when a nicely dressed man exited the cabin and strolled out to meet them.
    “I beg your pardon,” he said, bobbing his head. “May I help you?”
    “Yes, please. We’re looking for Jane Robinson,” Tom replied.
    “Yes, I know Jane. She’s my wife.” The man glanced back at the house. He seemed torn between going to get her and protecting her. Harriet leaped in, hoping to set his mind at ease.
    “Mr. Robinson, my name is Harriet Martin. Jane used to live on my father’s plantation, and she took care of me when I was a little girl. Would you please tell her I’m here? I’d like to see her, but I’ll leave that to her choice, and if she’d rather not see me, we’ll leave.”
    Mr. Robinson seemed surprised. “Miss Martin, you say? Yes, Jane has spoken of you and your family. I’ll go inside and ask her.” He nodded a few more times and stepped away, then hastened up the walk.
    “He must not be used to strangers showing up at his house,” Tom remarked.
    Just seconds later, the front door flew open and a woman came running out, her skirts flapping behind her. Harriet couldn’t help herself—she leaped down from the buggy without waiting for help, nearly tripping over her own skirts in the process, and ran into the woman’s arms.
    “Baby girl, baby girl,” Jane crooned into her hair as they hugged, and Harriet nearly broke down with her sobs. She remembered Jane calling her that, remembered being carried in the arms that held her now. Jane finally pushed her back and held her at arms’ length, examining every inch of her face. Harriet remembered those kind, kind eyes.
    “I’d say she’s decided to see us,” Tom said with some amusement in his voice.
    “Yes, sir. Let’s bring your rig inside the fence so you can set a spell.” Mr. Robinson took hold of the horse’s bridle and led it through the gate. Harriet glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the men’s voices and saw what they were doing, but then her attention went right