Anker tightened the robe around Lena and Charlie before he felt his way off the bench. Slowly, awkwardly, he stumbled to the ground and made his way around to the head of the horse. His leg brushed something. He reached out to investigate, encountered something solid. He explored it more. A wall? He edged a few inches to his left and found a door. It was his house. The air whooshed out of his lungs in relief. The faithful horse, guided by a divine hand, had led them home. He tried to hurry back to the wagon but he could barely make his feet function. After a few painfully slow steps he reached up and drew Lena and Charlie toward him, almost falling when their weight rested in his arms. None of his muscles seemed ready to work, and he struggled to think. He knew the cold had numbed both his body and his brain. “We’re home.” He managed to twist the words from his brain. “Thank God, we are safely home.”

He staggered to the house, struggled with the door, and finally made it inside. He didn’t put Charlie and Lena down until he reached the stove. The metal was cold. “Stay wrapped until I get the fire started.” With uncooperative fingers, he carefully put in kindling and small pieces of coal. Once the fire caught he would put on the biggest lump he could find. Carefully, he struck a match and held it to the kindling, relieved when tiny flames flashed. He tried to blow on the reluctant fire, but his lips wouldn’t form a pucker.

He watched until he was certain the fire would burn then closed the stove. “It will take a minute or two to get hot.” He wanted to stand there until his insides thawed but he had responsibilities. “Is Charlie awake?”

Lena lowered the robe to expose her face and shivered. She looked beneath the wrappings. “He’s breathing. Hi, Charlie. We’re home.” She glanced at Anker, a relieved smile on her lips. “He opened his eyes.” Her gaze grew anxious again. “Are you all right?”

Her concern did as much to warm him as the heat beginning to radiate from the stove. “Yes, fine. You two stay wrapped up until the room is warm. I have to put the horse in the barn.”

“No. You can’t go out. What if you get lost?”

He met her gaze. She worried about him? The thought made each beat of his heart push out the promise of warmth. He’d like to stay and calm her fears but first—

“I have to take the horse to the barn.”

“We can do without the horse. We can’t do without you.”

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think past her admission that he mattered in some small way to her. “The horse saved our lives. I must put him in the barn and feed him. I need to brush him down before he freezes.”

She rocked her head back and forth. “You almost missed the house one time already. What if. . .?” Her mouth worked. “Please be careful.”

“I’ll take a rope and tie it to the hook outside the door. The horse will make sure I get safely to the barn and then I’ll follow the rope back.”

She didn’t look convinced, but finally nodded.

He patted the bulge that was Charlie and cupped her head. “I’ll be back. I’ll keep you safe just like I promised.” Then, ignoring the agony of his cold body, he headed for the door.

“Be careful,” Lena called after him.

Her words provided the fuel he needed to face the cold.

* * *

Lena felt the heat from the stove, but it did nothing to ease the ice encasing her heart. Charlie squirmed and she let him down, expecting him to run as usual. Instead, he stood beside her chair, wobbling slightly. “Charlie, are you cold?”

“Cold.”

She touched his cheeks and his neck, grateful to realize he seemed reasonably warm. Maybe she had held him too tight as they rode home. She shuddered. She couldn’t remember ever being so cold or so scared though, crushed to Anker’s side, fear had been kept at arm’s length.

She glanced toward the door. Shouldn’t he be back by now? Had he secured the rope firmly? Perhaps it had blown loose. She closed her eyes. The sound of Anker’s murmured prayer over and over in her ear throughout the ride had comforted her, and she closed her eyes to say a similar prayer, “Father God, keep him safe.”

She tried to laugh at the irony of her situation. Wanting, demanding to be left alone, and when it appeared she might get that wish, she prayed for it to be otherwise. Facing the long cold Dakota winter on her own held no appeal.

Charlie gathered his wooden blocks and sat close to the fire to play with them.

She folded the robes and piled them by the door then hurried to the kitchen to build a fire. She’d make a big pot of coffee for Anker’s return. Remembering how putting a light in the window had guided him before, she did the same and waited. Not a sound. Not a hint that he might be there.

She lifted her chin and marched back to the kitchen. No use in watching for the door to open. It was like a pot that never boiled when watched. To keep herself from counting the seconds, she began to make a big pot of soup. But every task she did became a countdown. As soon as she fried the meat, he would be back.

He wasn’t.

As soon as she peeled carrots and potatoes, he would be back.

He wasn’t.

She added bits of this and that and seasoned the broth well. As soon as it boiled he would be back.

But he didn’t open the door and step in, putting her fears to rest.

She covered the pot and left it to simmer and went to the window. What if he’d fallen just outside the door and couldn’t make the last ten feet? She’d heard such stories so often. Should she go looking for him? But what would she do with Charlie? And who would care for him if something happened to her?

Best she wait.

She returned to the kitchen to check on the soup.

She put more coal in both stoves.

She tried to be patient, consoling herself with the fact he had strung up a rope. Surely he’d be okay.

Finally, she could take walking between the rooms and staring at the door no longer. “Charlie, Mama’s going outside for a minute. It’s very cold so you must stay right where you are.”

Charlie barely looked up from his stack of blocks.

She pulled on the warmest clothes she could find and bundled a scarf around her face and neck. She would not leave the shelter of the house nor take a step away without having her hand on something solid.

She opened the door and stepped into a wind liable to blow her to Mexico. She found the rope where Anker had tied it. It was secure and tight. That couldn’t be the problem.

“Anker. Where are you? Anker.” She called him over and over, straining for a glimpse of anything through the swirling blackness. The wind sighed and momentarily let up, allowing the golden light from the window to enable her to see a few feet away. There was nothing but whiteness and then blowing snow obliterated her view again.

“Anker.” God, keep him safe. If You do, I will never argue with him. I will be gentle, kind and helpful. I will— She wanted to promise her farm, her life, anything ... but she feared God might take her up on her promise.

The snow parted again. Did she see something move? She strained to see through the blanket of snow. Was it only the drifts shifting?

“Anker.”

The gray-shadowed drift lurched forward. “Lena.”

Anker. Was he hurt?

“Hold . . . rope.” His words seemed slow, tortured.

She grabbed the rope and fought the wind to his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Feet . . . won’t work.”

She grabbed his arm and draped it over her shoulder. A cloud of snow fell from his back. She suspected he was close to freezing to death. How long had he been out here trying to force his feet to carry him to the house? “Hang on. You’re almost back to the house.” She should have insisted he warm himself before he went to put the horse in the barn.

Her hand skidded against the solid wall. The window glowed with lantern light. “We’re here.” She kicked the door open and staggered in under Anker’s weight. All too aware of how quickly the cold filled the room, she paused long enough to shut the door before she shuffled him toward the stove, where he collapsed on the chair.

She touched his chin, shocked at how cold his skin felt, and tipped his head up to study his face. His eyes barely focused, his face was frighteningly pale. “You’re freezing, you foolish man. What do you think would happen to us if you died out there?” She peeled off his coat, hat, and mittens, tossing them aside. His fingers were white. Frozen. She closed her eyes. Lord, help them to recover. They needed attention, but first, she had to get him warm. She stripped off his shirt and grabbed the blanket she’d recently been wrapped in and secured it around his shoulders. She retrieved the robes and hung them over a chair close to the stove to warm while she gingerly removed his boots and socks. His toes were white too. “You could have frozen to death a few feet from the house. How long had you been out there? Why didn’t you call out? Do you really think the horse is worth your life? I can’t think what would have happened to you if I hadn’t gone looking.”

His eyes followed her movement, but he made no attempt to answer. Nor did she expect him to. She babbled to keep her alarm under control as she removed his snow-caked trousers, only fleetingly embarrassed that he sat before her in nothing but his woolens. The robe was toasty warm and she wrapped him up as best she could.

“I’ll have to thaw your feet and hands.” She’d only seen it done once before when an elderly man at Mrs. Miller’s had gotten lost in a cold spell. Mrs. Miller had used warm water, explaining, “Important to thaw the flesh gradually.” Lena knew from that one experience that the thawing process was painful. She saw by the reluctance in Anker’s eyes that he knew it too.

Charlie crowded to Anker’s side. “Papa?”

“Come with me, Charlie.” Ignoring his whine, Lena took his hand and led him to the kitchen where she filled the dishpan and washbasin with warm water. She made sure the reservoir and kettle were both full so she would have a continuous supply of warm water. She gave Charlie his blocks and told him to stay by the kitchen door to play.

She set the pan at Anker’s feet and lifted them into the warm water then positioned the basin on a stool and inserted his hands, stirring the water until the water cooled, then warmed it with more from the kettle.

Anker groaned and she knew feeling started to return.

“It’s a good sign,” she murmured, knowing her words would do nothing to ease his pain.

Slowly each finger and toe turned pink, several swelling as they did so. Blisters formed on both large toes and at the base of each small toe. She examined his fingers. “You got off easy. Only one thumb is going to blister.” On his left hand. The one that had no protection as he held the reins on the ride home.

The enormity of what he’d done to protect them hit her like a blow to the knees and she collapsed in the opposite chair, her chest suddenly tight.

“When I think...” Her throat closed off and she couldn’t finish. She was awed by his protectiveness.

Thirty minutes later, she removed the basins and tore a pillowslip into strips to bandage the blisters. Mrs. Miller had said the blisters must be left intact and protected until they shed on their own.

She brought hot coffee to Anker, relieved to see color returning to his lips.

Sudden weakness hit her limbs as he took the cup, and she started to shake.

He put the cup on the stool and reached for her. “Lena, my dear, I’m okay.”

The use of that endearment brought a sting of tears. She dashed at her eyes with one hand and waved him away with the other. “You must be careful of your frost burn.” She feared if he touched her she would sink into his embrace, clinging to him and crying on his shoulder. She could imagine his shock at such action. “Drink your coffee.”

He picked up his cup gingerly with both hands, and sipped. All the while he never left off studying her.

She had revealed much more than she should have. More than she cared to admit she felt. And he had perhaps said more than he intended when he called her dear. The harsh circumstances had pushed them beyond their normal carefulness. Her fear had weakened her resolve.

He drained his cup and sat back.

Charlie had sat watching as Lena thawed Anker’s hands and feet. He had asked about the bandages as she covered the blisters, but still hung back as if worried and afraid. But now that Anker had put his cup aside, Charlie decided the man had to be back to normal and scrambled over to Anker’s knee. “Papa, up.”

“Charlie,” Lena protested. “The man isn’t feeling up to it right now.”

“No. I want to hold him. I need to feel him in my arms. Lift him to my lap, please.”

Lena did as he asked and when she made to step back, Anker caught her arm and held her.

“I need to feel you close too.”

She couldn’t deny him nor could she deny herself the need to press to his side and feel his strength and steadiness. “I was so worried,” she whispered.

Anker kissed the top of Charlie’s head and took Lena’s hand.

She did not resist and told herself it was because she didn’t want to hurt his hands.

“I thought I would die. I prayed you wouldn’t come looking for me. I could only think you would get lost in the storm and then Charlie—” His voice broke and he couldn’t go on.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But thank God I went out when I did.”

“Let us thank God.” He bowed his head.

She did the same, breathing in the same woodsy scent that had first filled her bedroom. She couldn’t deny the gratitude of her heart, and lots more besides that she wouldn’t admit or allow.

“Father God, Your mercies amaze me. Thank You for keeping us safe. Thank You for sending Lena to find me.” He paused. “Thank You for Lena.” He squeezed her hand. “Amen.”

She heard the huskiness of his voice. The sound reached into her heart and caressed it. She was grateful he couldn’t see her face, for she feared her cheeks flushed at his words. “Can I get you more coffee?” Not bothering to wait for his answer, she grabbed the cup and headed for the kitchen where she pressed a cool, damp cloth to her cheeks.

She tossed the cloth aside and filled the cup. She hadn’t forgotten her original plan. All she needed was a safe place for the winter and then she’d return to her own farm.

“Thank you,” Anker said, as she placed the cup on the stool at his side.

Charlie examined the bandage on Anker’s thumb then got down. He brought the blocks and piled them in Anker’s lap. “Play.”

Anker laughed. “You’re quite the little man, Charlie.”

Charlie nodded. “Me man.”

Lena forgot her fears and reservations, and laughed at the joy of her son.

Anker glanced at her across the space separating them, his eyes filled with gentle tenderness that almost undid her determination to remember her plan.

“Play.” Charlie demanded.

Laughing, Anker piled the blocks on the stool and let Charlie knock them down. This was a new game, and Charlie chuckled at the racket the blocks made tumbling to the floor.

Lena let the pair enjoy playing together and picked up a pair of socks she worked on. She ended up winding and unwinding the ball of yarn she’d salvaged. Why did things suddenly seem to feel so awkward between them? She glanced at Anker. He seemed relaxed despite his painful hands and feet.

Seems she was the only one who felt this tension.

When Charlie started to tire of playing with the blocks, she put the knitting aside. “I made soup for supper. Do you want me to bring yours in here?”

He pushed aside the blanket. “If you get me some dry trousers, I’ll sit at the table. There’s something I want to tell you.”

Her cheeks burned as she remembered she had stripped off his trousers. She scrambled up the ladder to fetch a dry pair. She helped him ease them over his feet then escaped to the kitchen while he finished dressing.

He hobbled to the table, Charlie in his wake. “Smells good.”

“Thank you.” She served thick slices of bread along with the soup and sat in her usual place. He reached for her hand as he always did. Thinking of his frost burns, she hesitated then let her palm rest on his, not curling her fingers lest she hurt him.

Throughout the meal, she stole glances at him, wondering what he wanted to talk about. Had he noticed her odd behavior and meant to admonish her about it?

She concentrated on her supper.

“Mama, down.”

Charlie’s demand shifted her attention. “But you’ve eaten hardly anything.” She filled a spoon with soup and lifted it to his mouth.

He pressed his lips together and turned away.

“Charlie, you have to eat.” He’d always had a good appetite.

He shook his head.

Anker rested his hand over Charlie’s. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“No. Down.”

Anker shrugged. “Maybe he’s overtired. It’s been a long day.”

“I suppose.” She turned back to Charlie. “You can go play.” She watched him until he left the room. She stared after him until she heard him stacking his blocks. Even then she did not bring her gaze back to the table, fearing what Anker had to say, and wondering how she could disguise her dismay. Finally, she could no longer pretend interest in Charlie’s play. “More coffee?”

“No, thanks.” He settled back, and she knew he prepared to tell her whatever he wanted to say.

She filled her lungs, hoping to draw courage from the act, and drew in her chin as she faced him.

“I had . . . I don’t know what to call it. I was certain I would die out there. I was consumed with fear. What if I died? How could I fulfill my duty, how would I keep my promise to Johnson to make sure you and Charlie were safe? I begged God to help me. I promised Him all sorts of things if He rescued me. “

Lena nodded, startled at how similar her own prayers had been. God had kept Anker safe. She would remember her vow and not argue with him anymore.

“I stumbled and couldn’t get up. I realized then how helpless I was and knew there was nothing I could do to earn God’s favor. I couldn’t work harder. I couldn’t promise to be more faithful. I couldn’t even move.”

Lena felt his desperation, but it wasn’t defeat she heard in his voice, it was awe and victory.

“I felt . . . I think I even heard . . . God reminding me of something I had somehow forgotten. He has given us everything we need. He has not asked for anything in return except our love. I don’t need to work to earn His favor. He gives it freely. All I have to do is trust God.”

Lena stared at the peace and joy blazing from Anker’s face.

He smiled at her so gently, so tenderly, it made her chest muscles knot. “Lena, I knew then that whatever happened, God would work it out. All I need do is trust Him.”

Her throat constricted until she couldn’t speak, could barely force air past the tightness. She swallowed hard, almost choked, and forced out words. “It can’t be that easy.”

“I would have agreed not long ago. But I was wrong. It isn’t easy, but it’s done.”

“I don’t understand.”

“God has done it all.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Love Him. Trust Him.”

His words touched a spot deep inside her heart that longed for such assurance. She had not known it before in her life, not even with Johnson, good man that he was. She shook her head. “I think we have to obey His rules in order to expect His favor. We do our part. God does His.”

He only smiled. “I pray you will discover for yourself that His love is given freely.”

She tried to tear herself from his gentle look. “It’s only because you’re so thankful to be safe that you think this way.”

His smile flattened, but the gentleness remained in his eyes. “I have to confess that trusting God is easier than trusting men. He accepts me as I am. It has not been the same with people.”

She saw and felt his distress. Wanted to know the source. “Anker.” Her voice was soft. “Who has made you feel that way?”

His gaze held hers. For a moment, she wondered if he would tell her.

Then, his eyes still steady and perhaps challenging, he said, “Remember I tell you in Norway our big family and our little farm?”

He hadn’t said that, only told her about many cousins and uncles and aunts, but she nodded lest anything she say keep him from continuing.

“Is hard to provide for wife and family. Is hard to be enough for a woman when there is nothing to offer but sharing with many others.” His gaze went to the white-shrouded window, though she wondered if she was seeing something back in his homeland. “A neighbor promised he sell his land to us. He have no near relatives, you see. So I ask young lady, Stina, to marry me and we vill take the new farm.” His voice deepened. His words slowed. “But the neighbor sell to someone else. And Stina said I didn’t have— I think the English word would be ‘enough.’ I didn’t have enough.”

“Anker, that’s dreadful.” Lena heard the pain he tried to disguise. Perhaps this explained why he tried so hard to help her. To prove something to himself. That he was enough. She looked about the big kitchen. Thought of the size of the house. “You built this big house in the hopes of making her change her mind.”

“No. She marry someone else, but on way across America, I meet Celia. A sweet, kind girl. I tell her of plans for new home. She encourage me. When we reach Rockyview, Illinois, she invite me to spend some time visiting her family. When I leave a month later, I ask if she wait for my return. She say she look forward to seeing me again. All summer I labor on the house. I haul logs from far to the north. Ingvald help me, and I hire two men so I get it done by fall. I remember standing back when it was done. Such a fine house. A home to be proud of. One that would house a growing family. I design it so I could add a hallway leading to bedrooms for the children. I picture a house full of little Norwegian babies like home. We be the start of something big.

“I buy a ticket back to Illinois. I take a room at a hotel so I can spend a few days. I clean up. Wear a new shirt and pants I buy on my arrival. Have haircut and shave. Buy bouquet of flowers and go to her house. Her mother answer my knock. I say I am here to see Celia. ‘You’re fortunate to find her at home,’ the mother say. She call Celia. Celia’s smile light the room and warm my heart. I give her the flowers. She bury her nose in them and her brown eyes grow wide with delight. I ask if we can go for walk and she agree. She take my arm and look so happy to see me. ‘Tell me all about your farm,’ she say. I tell her I have broken forty acres and put up fine house. I have purchased a stallion and have been finding mares. I hope to start a herd and sell the offspring.”

Lena nodded. Anker’s horses were valued throughout the area.

“I tell her I also have a hundred head of cattle that run on the open range to the south. I think I am doing very well. ‘It sounds lovely,’ she said. ‘So you’re liking the new country?’ Ja, I say. I had practised English every chance I got and thought I had really improved but often slipped back into Norwegian.

“Is a fine land with so much room to grow,” I say, and then tell her the house is ready for her. She stopped walking and faced me. ‘For me? What do you mean?’ I say, ‘I tell you I come back for you. You say you wait for me. We marry now? Ja?’

“I never forget her expression. Maybe surprised. Maybe shocked. Maybe sad. Her smile leave. Her eyes fill with regret. “Anker, I am sorry, but I didn’t mean it that way. I only wanted to help you fit in and make your transition easier.’

“I did not know what this word transition mean, but I know what she mean. She didn’t mean for me to come back. She not want to marry me. Even big house not enough. She touched my arm. It was all I could do not to jerk back. Such touch meant something in Norway. Seems they don’t in America.”

Lena’s heart ached for the sorrow of this good man. For him to feel he didn’t have enough to offer to make a woman love him stirred regret within her heart. Mindful of his tender hands, she rested her palm against his wrist. “I do not feel you aren’t good enough, it’s just…” How could she explain the problem lay not with him, but with her?

He nodded. “You will not allow someone to give to you.”

That wasn’t exactly the thought that twisted her insides, yet she didn’t know how else to explain it.

As peacefulness returned to his eyes, she relaxed.

He looked about to say more.

She gathered up her words and returned to what he’d said at the beginning of the conversation. “I’m glad you’re safe, and if you had a special experience out there, I’m glad for you.”

A crash of blocks came from the other room and Charlie wailed. Welcoming the interruption, Lena hurried to see what the matter was.

Charlie sat on the floor amidst his scattered blocks. Lena thought he had been trying to stack them and grew frustrated when they fell. “Mama will help you.” She knelt beside him, but Charlie threw himself backwards and kicked his legs.

She picked him up and plunked him on his behind. “Charlie, you are not to act that way.”

At the stern sound of her words, Charlie stopped his screaming, but his bottom lip protruded and his black eyes showed unrelenting stubbornness.

Anker made his slow, painful way to one of the chairs.

As soon as Charlie saw him, he scrambled to his feet and rushed to his side, sobbing.

Lena rolled her eyes at the display of wounded feelings.

“Do you mind to lift him to my lap?”

She did so and Charlie buried his face against Anker’s chest.

“He’s overtired,” she said. “I should get him ready for bed.”

At her suggestion, Charlie turned away from her even more. “I’ll clean the kitchen first.” Maybe after a cuddle in Anker’s arms Charlie would settle down. She didn’t fancy dealing with one of the child’s tantrums.

When she returned, Charlie was practically asleep in Anker’s arms and allowed her to take him. He protested mildly as she prepared him for bed, and instead of falling asleep instantly as he normally would, he continued to fuss and sob.

Lena’s attempts to soothe him didn’t seem to help so she eventually returned to the living room and the chair by the fire. “I guess the day has upset him. He’ll just have to wear himself out.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring in the parcel from town. You could enjoy that new yarn.”

“It can wait until the storm ends. In the meantime, I can fix these socks.” She forced herself to meet his eyes even though she continued to feel as if her emotions had been overexposed by the events of the long day. “Thank you for the yarn. You didn’t have to buy that, you know.”

“I did it because I wanted to.”

She couldn’t tear herself from the look in his eyes nor could she escape the feeling that he sought something from her. Perhaps more agreement with his declaration that one didn’t have to do anything to earn God’s favor. Or assurance that Anker was enough for her. She ached to give him those words, but to speak them would be to put herself at his mercy. She studiously began to knit a new heel in the sock she held. “I hope the storm ends soon.”

“One thing about Dakota weather, you can never predict it, though I should have noticed the signs of the approaching storm sooner. Might have saved us—”

When he didn’t finish, she glanced at him. His expression showed no regret, only . . . She tried to think why he looked so content.

He continued. “Maybe it was worth it to realize the depth of God’s love.”

His words scratched through her thoughts. She dropped a stitch and concentrated on picking it up. How was she to endure the evening if he kept harking back to this topic? Though it certainly beat staring at each other, remembering the tender moments when he had held both her and Charlie close.

Why did her thoughts race about from one forbidden topic to another?

With a burst of gratitude, she remembered the package from Sky tucked away in her coat pocket. “I forgot about my letter.” She rushed to get it. As soon as she was settled comfortably, she smoothed the crumpled pages and read quickly.

Sky wrote several pages about the new baby born shortly after Johnson died and named John in his honor. She hadn’t realized she’d chuckled out loud until Anker said, “Sounds like a nice letter.”

“The baby is eight months old now and Sky insists he not only looks like his uncle, he—” She read a part aloud. “‘He has that stubborn streak that I’ll never forget. Do you remember the time I decided I’d had enough of living at Mrs. Miller’s and packed my bags? I was only thirteen but I thought I knew everything. Johnson stopped me before I got off the step and said I wouldn’t be going anywhere. He wouldn’t let me go even though I hit him and cried. Said he’d stand there forever if that’s what it took. I’m glad now, but I sure wasn’t at the time. And little Johnny is just like him in that regard. Since he was a few weeks old he’s been very good at letting us know what he wants and once he makes up his mind...well, I am not looking forward to the next few years as he learns he must obey his mama and papa. But don’t get me wrong, he is the joy of my life.’” Lena stopped there as Sky went on to say how much she missed her brother even though she had a good man and a lovely son.

She turned to the picture of Johnson.

“He was a good man.” Anker’s words were soft.

“I miss him.”

“Me too.”

She looked at him then. For the first time she thought about the fact that Johnson and Anker had spent a lot of time working together. Johnson had looked forward to visits from him and the men were often back and forth between the two places. She’d never before given thought to the idea that Anker had lost his best friend. She did now and the realization of a shared sorrow eased away the tension she’d felt since his confession of a special experience with God, followed by his tale of losing the love of two women.

His blue eyes revealed regret and lots more besides—determination and tenderness.

She’d seen glimpses of the latter before but this time it seemed deeper, more insistent. It called to her, asking for and seeking a response. She didn’t know what he wanted from her. Nor did she want to examine the way her heart leapt at his look.

Instead, she focused on the other emotion she’d glimpsed. She had learned about his determination before Johnson’s death. Even the ever-patient Johnson had commented on it, alternately admiring what he called the man’s grit, or being annoyed at the man’s stubbornness. Since Johnson’s death and Anker’s foolish promise to take care of Lena and Charlie, she had dealt with it on a more personal level. Once Anker decided he was going to help her with something, he found a way. At times, she was reluctantly grateful. Like the day he’d found her trying to cut the hay with a scythe while Charlie napped on a grassy spot nearby. Only Charlie had wakened . . . She owed him Charlie’s life.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for rescuing Charlie that day.”