Free Jillian Hart by Maclain's Wife Page B

was no hiding the love he had for his daughter.
    What would it be like to know love like that? The emptiness of her childhood stretched behind her, vast and dark. She'd grown up thinking that's all there was in life, but now, watching Emily pull her reluctant father toward the creek, she saw something else.
    The stories her mother had told her were true. There was a magical place where little girls were more valued than gold. It wasn't just in those stories Mother read at night, but here in Montana Territory where fathers protected their daughters and took the time to play with them in the creek.
    Emily came up with nothing but gravel again. Father and daughter grumbled about their failure together.
    "It was just a story," Ben said. "This pan is exactly like every other."
    "That's what you think." So, Ben couldn't see the magic. He'd probably grown up like this, with a safe childhood and a comfortable home and endless stability. But she hadn't, and she could see what he did not.
    She wrestled the pan out of his hands and worked it into the creek bed. She went by feel, by heart.
    When she hefted it from the water a good twenty minutes later, there were two small nuggets winking in the sunlit water in the bottom of the pan.

        From his back steps, Ben watched the sun slide behind the Garnet Range, the rugged mountains glowing dark purple as the great ball of light disappeared. The day was over, this first day with Polly in their lives.
    He'd felt watched all afternoon, but there'd been no sign of trouble. The loaded Colt was still unsnapped in his holster, loaded and ready if he needed it.
    He hadn't imagined the trouble. His intuition had saved his life more times than he could count. It wouldn't fail him now. The feeling had eased, but he remained alert. The sounds of night came with the setting sun. He could hear Polly's voice in the kitchen behind him, playing checkers with Emily. One last game, the girl pleaded.
    What should he do about the pretty little gunslinger? He'd made a mistake, that was for sure. He didn't know how much he could trust a gunfighter, but he figured she would at least be able to cook.
    Most of all, he'd gambled that she might want to leave her old life behind.
    Hell, that wasn't what was bothering him. It had been a tough three years for them, especially for Emily.
    He just wanted to make everything right. To give her a mother who would love her. A woman to take care of her. A legal parent in case the past ever caught up with him.
    "Pa, Polly's gonna read me a bedtime story. Do you wanna come, too?"
    "Sure, pumpkin." He wouldn't miss it for anything. He'd tucked Emily safely into bed every night since she was born.
    Polly stood when he entered the room, and put away the last of the checker pieces. She looked at him with wide eyes, as if she expected him to send her back to jail at any moment.
    "You took off your gun belt, Sheriff." She quirked one lean brow. "I can't believe you trust me that much."
    "I don't. I can take you in, with or without a gun." He winked.
    "We'll have to see about that." She brushed past him, leaving a scent of sunshine and spice.
    His pulse kicked at the sight of those worn Levi's hugging her hips and the curve of her bottom like a lover's hand. He followed her up the stairs with his daughter at his side. He tried to remember she was wanted by the law. She was here by the power of his threats and not by her choice. But it didn't matter. His blood heated, and he fought to look everywhere but at Polly. 
    He failed.
    Emily's room was cozy, with a lamp lit on the bedside table.
    "Polly, I wanna hear this story." Emily held out her favorite magazine. The cherished story had been read and reread so many times, the paper was worn around the edges.
    Polly paled, and her gaze flew to him. Ben felt a hard clutch in his guts. She was going to refuse. She was