A Hopeful Heart by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

haven’t the other ranchers near my place lost part of their herds the way I have? Why is the rustler targeting me? He pushed the silent question aside to focus on Aunt Hattie, who continued in a persuasive tone.
    “It’d be easier on the girls—them bein’ new around here an’ all—to see their first births in a barn rather than out in the open.”
    Seemed to Abel a birth was a birth whether out on the open range or in a barn, but he wouldn’t argue with the lady. Not when she’d done so many kind deeds for him in the past. “I reckon it’d be all right if you brought ’em over.”
    A smile lit her face. “Thank you. Just send one o’ your hands by”—Cole and Ethan jabbed each other with their elbows, grinning like they didn’t have good sense—“when you think a cow’s fixin’ to deliver. I’ll bring the pupils quick as a lick.”
    Abel made a mental note to instruct Vince to oversee the delivery and supervise Aunt Hattie’s pupils. “That’d be fine, Aunt Hattie. Have a good day now.” He slammed his hat onto his head and charged out the door.

    Tressa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze following the tall cowboy as he strode from the church. She recognized him as the man who had retrieved her hat the day she arrived in Barnett. That day, she hadn’t looked directly into his face, too embarrassed by her clumsiness to raise her head. Today, however, with him caught up in conversation with Mrs. Wyatt, she’d had an opportunity to peruse his features without his knowledge. And she liked what she’d seen.
    His thick, wavy hair, combed straight back and shiny with oil, reminded her of Papa’s hair. Where Papa’s was black with streaks of gray, however, the rancher’s was dark brown with streaks of lighter brown, probably from time in the sun. His eyes were just as warm and brown as Papa’s, though, and something in his reserved expression conjured pictures of Papa’s reticence after Mama died. Looking into his eyes had ignited something akin to compassion in her breast.
    She followed Mrs. Wyatt and the other girls out of the church, holding her arms stiffly to her sides in an attempt to shrink herself. The men crowding close made her uncomfortable. For reasons she couldn’t explain, one in particular—the one Mrs. Wyatt had called Gage—left her feeling as though bugs crawled under her skin. When he sidled into her pathway, she sidestepped past him and scurried to Mrs. Wyatt’s wagon. His laughter followed her, creating a rush of anger. She would keep a watch on that man. She didn’t trust him.
    Luella, however, took her time sashaying to the wagon. She cast her dimpled grin over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes. When she reached the wagon, she spun to face the men and waved good-bye with a little waggle of her fingertips.
    Mrs. Wyatt made a tsk-tsk sound and shook her head. “Luella, save up your flirtin’ till it’s time to use it.”
    With a pout, Luella climbed into the back and flumped down beside Evelyn. Mabelle and Paralee scrambled in, followed by Sallie. Tressa took hold of the back and started to heave herself in when a hand curled around her elbow. She gasped in surprise and peered into the face of a tall, weathered man with striking dark eyes and thick pewter hair.
    “Let me help you, miss.”
    His low, polite voice did little to calm her racing pulse. She tensed as he lifted, assisting her into the back of the wagon. Seating herself, she smoothed her skirt over her ankles. “Th-thank you, sir.”
    He closed the hatch and then touched the brim of his hat, reminding her of the man who’d retrieved her hat. A bit of her nervousness drifted away. Without another glance in her direction, the man strode around the side of the wagon and rested his elbow on the edge of the wagon’s side.
    “Harriet.”
    Mrs. Wyatt held the reins in her hands. “How-do, Brewster.”
    Tressa couldn’t determine from Mrs. Wyatt’s tone whether she was pleased or perturbed to be