Free What the Heart Wants by Marie Caron

couldn’t find employment as a schoolteacher or a nanny, as I lacked training for either. I could most certainly become what Reverend Sims called a soiled dove, since the only training I needed was what I could get on the job. I’d seen a few of those poor women selling themselves on the streets of the fly-by-night towns that had sprung up along the trail. I’d also seen them in towns near the forts where I’d grown up, plying their trade in front of the saloons where the soldiers gathered on their liberty days. And, although I was innocent when it came to what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors, I understood enough to know I wanted nothing to do with that sort of life.
    I vowed that first night after Papa’s death as I lay on my pallet under Elizabeth’s wagon that I would never go with any man who didn’t pledge his undying love to me. I didn’t even care whether or not he made his pledge in front of a preacher, as long as he made it to me. As long as he loved me, that would be enough. But where in this great wilderness was I to find the man meant for me? I was almost asleep when I saw a pair of simply made boots standing just beyond the wheel of the wagon under which I lay. I knew immediately whose boots they were, so I scooted over to the edge of the wagon and looked up. John’s dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he squatted down next to me, the look in his eyes so tender that I totally forgot to keep the blanket from falling down around my waist.
    “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man,” he said quietly. These were the first words he’d said to me since the tragedy, and hearing the heartfelt words, especially from this man, made me cry as I hadn’t cried before. In fact, I had been trying to put on a brave face in front of everyone, but now, suddenly, all my fences were down, and I sobbed until I thought my heart would break. To my surprise, John sat down next to me and pulled me into his arms, where I stayed for many minutes.
    As he held me, I felt his strong body through the thin fabric of my nightgown, and I reveled in the feeling. His chest was covered by an old cotton shirt so worn it was as soft as a baby chick, and I snuggled my face into it, inhaling his unique outdoorsy scent. His long legs were encased in snug-fitting leather britches that delineated their perfect form, and his thighs, when my hand accidentally brushed one, felt like steel. And yet nothing about him seemed hard or unyielding as he held me close. Indeed, I could have stayed in the shelter of his arms forever.
    “Thank you for your kind words,” I finally said, and he backed away, taking his manly smell and his strength along with him. Somehow the loss of them made me feel even sadder, and I bowed my head so he would not see how affected I was.
    His hand under my chin lifted my face, forcing me to look into those dark brown eyes. “What will you do? I mean when we reach California?” he asked me softly.
    “I don’t know. Everything we owned was in that wagon, including our savings,” I replied, sniffling. He seemed to think on my answer for a moment before speaking again.
    “You’re smart and pretty. I’m sure some man will offer for your hand,” he assured me, but he looked glum.
    His voice didn’t sound all that happy about the idea. I wasn’t any too happy about my prospects either, and I felt compelled to tell him so. “Marrying for any reason other than love doesn’t appeal to me. But working in a saloon doesn’t appeal to me either,” I said with a half laugh as I tried to lighten the mood, swiping at my tear-stained face with both hands.
    “Then you should marry for love,” he stated as though it was an edict, his black eyes drilling into mine. Then, as I gaped at him, my heart racing as I wished he’d say what I wanted to hear, he stood and turned to leave. “I’ll be going hunting tomorrow. Our supply of dried meat is getting low. I’ll see