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But only a slight comfort.

She’d sent a town boy to put a notice on the schoolhouse door that classes were canceled for the next day, and then out to her family’s farm to let them know where she was. Perhaps Pa had gone to help Garth. As the preacher of the town, he’d no doubt do what he could. Lead slammed into her belly. Sometimes, when all hope faded, the only thing her father could do was pray.

Sleep did not come. Horrible images of Garth’s farm burned to the ground plagued her mind. Worse, Garth himself, like a tintype only in color, his face and body scorched and scarred from the fire. Ruth clasped her hands together and prayed for his safety. Silly repetitions of words already said. But what else could she do?

A soft rapping at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Ruth jerked upward and nearly tumbled out of bed. Gaining her footing, she walked quickly across the wooden floor. What time must it be? She had no idea. Please, please don’t let it be bad news.

“Yes?” she said through the door.

“It’s me, Ruthie.”

Garth! Without thinking, she ripped the door open and launched herself against his hard body, nearly toppling him over.

“Gracious, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “You must be exhausted.”

He held her fast, didn’t let her go.

“The farm?” she said against his chest.

“Everything’s all right.” His voice was hoarse, no doubt from inhaling the smoke. “Just when it looked like all was lost, a wind came up and blew the fire past the property and into the creek.”

“Oh, thank God.” Ruth inhaled a sharp breath of smoke and prairie.

“Mary Alice?”

“She’s fine. Asleep. She ate dinner and had a bath. She’s terribly worried about you, though. Perhaps we should wake her.”

“No. Let the child sleep. She needs it. Just bring her home in the mornin’. I paid for your room. I’ll go back home.”

“You’ll do no such thing. What time is it anyway?”

“Around midnight.”

“You’re completely tuckered. Come in here. There’s a basin of water. We can at least clean you up a little. Then you take the room adjoining this one. It’s empty.”

“I already woke Fred up to get in here. I can’t wake him again to get a room.”

“Pshaw. It’s his job. You had to let us know you were all right.”

“My animals—”

“Will be fine until morning.”

“They breathed in a lot of smoke.”

“As did you. And they’ll recover just like you will. Land sakes, you’re about the most stubborn man this side of the Mississippi.” She urged him into the room and onto a chair. Mary Alice still snored softly on the bed. “Just sit tight for a moment. I’ll go down and get the key to the room for you.”

“Not dressed like that, you won’t.” Garth stood. “I’ll get it.”

“Oh!” Ruth clamped her fingers to her lips. She had taken off her dress to go to bed and wore only her chemise and petticoats. She’d been so eager for news she hadn’t given a thought to her state of dishabille. “What you must think of me, letting you in when I’m—”

He smiled. Garth Mackenzie smiled at her. His shiny white teeth contrasted starkly with his soot-covered face. Pale moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating him.

“You look like an angel from heaven. But I won’t let you go downstairs like that.”

“I assure you I’ll be dressed appropriately when you get back, Mr. Mackenzie.”

He winked at her. Winked.


Tags: Helen Hardt Daughters of the Prairie Romance