“How do you know?” Blue asked.
“’Cause her mama loved her ’nough to make a special dolly and ’cause she had you for a papa.”
Blue sucked in air and squeezed his eyes shut tight. When he opened them, they met hers over the girls’ head. His eyes darkened with soul-deep sorrow.
Oh, Blue. She rushed to his side and sat next to Libby on the pew. She draped her arm about his neck, over Eleanor’s cradling arm and pressed her head to his shoulder.
“I ’spect Beau was happy, too,” Libby said.
Blue nodded.
Eleanor patted Blue’s neck. “But you miss them lots—don’t you?”
When she felt a shudder ripple down Blue’s arm, Clara pressed her hand to his to still it.
“That’s very sad.” Eleanor kissed his cheek.
Beneath her palm, Clara felt Blue’s arm jolt.
“We’d be your little girls if Mama would let us,” Eleanor said, and Libby nodded agreement.
The statement rocked Clara clear to her core. She’d done her best to protect her daughters against this kind of hopeless wishing, against the pain that would come. She’d tried and failed. She must have a long talk with them this evening and make them understand how impossible their wishes were.
“Girls, take the doll and go play with her. Mind you don’t get her dirty.”
“We won’t,” they chorused in unison and eased off Blue’s knee. Together they carried the box containing the doll to their favorite corner and carefully lifted the lid and removed her.
For a moment Clara enjoyed observing their pleasure and how they cooperated. Then she pulled her thoughts back to Blue and tried to think what to say. So many things ran through her head but only one of them formed into a reasonable thought.
“Blue, I wish you hadn’t done that.” She no longer had her arm about his neck and their arms barely touched, but nevertheless she felt him jolt.
“How can I move forward unless I tell people about my children?”
“True, but that’s not what I meant.”
“You mean the doll? Are you going to let your stubborn pride get in the way of someone else giving your girls a tiny bit of enjoyment?”
His head came around slowly, and his gaze rested on her, but she kept her attention on the girls. His words made her feel small and uncharitable.
She shrugged helplessly and lifted her eyes to his. She saw the barely contained emotion there. “I’ve made you angry.”
“Yes. It seems wrong to let pride so influence one’s choices that the children pay.”
“I—” What could she say? How could she explain? “You need to understand something.” But dare she tell him? She examined her choices. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know she was running from someone. Or that she could hope to remain anonymous and invisible. How many questions would her father have to ask for anyone to realize she was the woman he sought even though she’d disguised her name?
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Blue to keep her secret. Seemed he had lots of practice in keeping secrets.
She rose and went to one of the windows that gave her a view of town. But what would he do if he knew? Would he try and persuade her to stay and let him take care of her?
The idea was so tempting. But the girls weren’t his. Would Father still take them away? Could he? He’d surely think he had the right, and how would she prevent it? And wouldn’t the law stand behind him? It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
A rider approached from the far side of town, and she watched him with detached interest. However, when he didn’t rein in at the livery barn, and then passed Macpherson’s store without stopping, all the while carefully looking from side to side, her nerves began to twitch.
The rider drew closer to the church. His hat was pulled low so she couldn’t see his eyes, and his mouth drew down in a harsh, threatening line. He looked directly at the window.
She jerked away and pressed to the wall, her hands balled to her chest as if she could still the pounding of her heart.
He was a man looking for someone. Had her father sent him?
“Clara?” Blue gave her a curious look.
She held up a hand to signal him to be quiet and strained to hear the passing hoofbeats. Did they pause in front of the church?