Texas December 1884

Matilda Rockford knew life ebbed and flowed on an ever-changing current. But had enough changed in her absence?

She pressed her cheek against the cold glass of the train window. She had delighted in the green landscape of eastern Texas, awaiting her first glimpse of Dallas in four years. Her skin tingled all over. Ma and Pa would be waiting to take her home. She licked her dry lips. The train clacked along, gently rocking her back and forth.

When the train rounded the last bend, the first buildings of town came into view. She sighed.

Home.

Though she didn't live in Dallas, she would see Ma and Pa and welcome the two-hour wagon ride to their nearby town of Green Hollow.

When the station came into view, she gathered her belongings and clasped the waist-length cape around her neck. The train clattered and screeched to a stop, jerking her forward in her seat.

She pinned on her wide-brimmed hat, stood, and smoothed down her wrinkled green traveling suit. Carrying her reticule in one hand and a hatbox in the other, she made her way up the aisle. Her backside ached from days of travel, coming from the East Coast. She stepped off the train and onto the platform, searching for Pa and Ma. She sucked in the cool December air, crisper than she remembered.

Her gaze went from face to face in the crowd. Where were they? They knew her train and arrival time. They wouldn't have forgotten.

"Tilly!"

She froze at the familiar voice, and dread coiled around her spine. She hadn't been called Tilly in the four years since she'd left. Her aging great-aunt abhorred sobriquets, stating they broke etiquette, and never allowed their use. When the person shouted out the nickname from her youth again, she turned slowly.

In brown trousers and a tan canvas duster, Orion Dunbar strode toward her, more handsome than when she'd left. His wavy, coffee-colored hair touched his collar, and his shoulders seemed broader. He nearly took her breath away. Nearly. Too bad he didn't have a good disposition to go along with his looks. She forced herself not to wince and pulled her mouth into a congenial smile. "Good day, Mr. Dunbar."

He furrowed his brow. "Why so formal? It's just Orion."

Her great-aunt had drilled into her that a lady always addressed a man by his title, but Tilly wasn't in Baltimore anymore. She dipped her head. "Orion." When he smiled, something inside her melted. He'd always had a captivating smile. Ever since that first day fourteen years ago when he'd arrived in Green Hollow.

"You're looking as lovely as ever." His Texas drawl poured over her like warm molasses.

She had missed the easy way people spoke here. Unlike the tight, rushed speech back East. Everyone in a hurry to do nothing of importance.

How uncharacteristic of Orion to pay her a compliment. "Thank you."

"Where's your luggage?"

"My pa and ma should be here somewhere." She scanned the people, desperate to find her folks and have an excuse to part from his company.

"They sent me."

She snapped back around to him. Her folks wouldn't do that to her. Orion had tormented her and teased her when they were in school. And ruined her new dress. "Why would they do that?" No, they would not do this to her. They knew the pain and torture he'd caused her in their youth.

"Your pa hurt his leg, and neither he nor I felt it fitting for your ma to travel by herself. So I volunteered."

Neither her pa nor him? Since when had he become companionable with her folks?

"What happened to Pa?"

"Nothing serious. Just a broken leg."

"Nothing serious!" People had lost limbs with less of an injury. "Has the doctor seen him?"

"Of course. He'll mend fine. He's not fit to travel just yet."

Concern laced her voice and gripped her throat. "I want to see him."

"I have a buggy over here. But let's get your baggage first."

She pointed to a trunk being set onto the platform and an oversize green-and-blue tapestry carpetbag. "Let the baggage handler help you with that."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I can manage it."

That smile. She inwardly sighed.

Manage it? He hoisted it up as though it were her reticule. She grabbed hold of her carpetbag and had considerably more trouble with it than he had with the heavy, bulky trunk. She waddled along behind him with the carpetbag weighing her down on one side. Her hatbox didn't provide much of a counterbalance.

He heaved the trunk onto the back of the buggy. The burden caused the conveyance to dip and the frame to creak. He turned. "You should have let me get that." After relieving her of the carpetbag, he strapped the pair to the back of the buggy then slung her hatbox onto the floor in front of the seat. "Only one trunk?"

"I have several more that should arrive tomorrow."

"Why didn't they come with you?"

"Those trunks weren't ready for the train. I was anxious to be on my way home." Since her parents regularly came to Dallas to pick up orders for the store, she hadn't seen it as an inconvenience, but now she realized it would be.

Orion stood next to the buggy and held out his hand. "Let me help you up."

Who was this Orion who was being so cordial? When she'd left, he'd scowled at her as she rode out of town. And growing up, he had teased and tormented her then ignored her. She wasn't sure which had been worse — being teased or ignored.

Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand in his broad, strong one. Would he squeeze her hand until she cried like when she was a child?

No, he held it gently, helping her into the buggy. He laid a quilt across her lap to keep her warm on the ride.

Her breath caught as she recognized the covering. This wasn't just any quilt. This was hers — or rather the first she'd made as a girl. An appliqué tulip pattern. She'd been so proud of her yearlong work, practicing her sewing. Now she could see how the stitches were uneven and the seams crooked.

When Orion had arrived on the orphan train from the East and been adopted by the blacksmith, her mother encouraged her to give him something. She had chosen her prized work. No wonder Orion had taunted and persecuted her. She'd given him a quilt with big red flowers on it. A girl's quilt.

Now, soft from wear, it had a few holes clear through it. Did he remember from where this had come? She chanced a sideways glance at him as he climbed aboard and took the reins. When would this Orion vanish and the one from her youth return?

The bumpy ride did nothing to quell her concern for her pa and fueled the ache in her backside.

"Why didn't Ma come with you?"

"She's looking after the store and your pa."

That made sense.

Orion cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about your aunt."

Her aunt passing away had released Tilly from her duty to care for her aging relative. "Thank you."

After that, neither spoke for the nearly two-hour ride. She didn't know what to say to him, and obviously he didn't know what to say to her either. What was there to say? So they rode with only the creaking of the buggy springs for conversation.

When the buggy crested a hill and her little hometown of Green Hollow came into view, excitement welled up in her.

Home.

Finally.

Orion guided the buggy through a very cold-looking puddle up to the front of her folks' general store. He wasn't going to park in the puddle, was he? But Orion set the brake, turned away from her, and jumped to the ground.

She pulled back the quilt and peered over her side of the buggy at the puddle too large for her to avoid. How did he expect her to get down? Splash into the muddy water? This was the Orion she remembered.

He appeared in front of her.

The muddy water surrounded Orion's boots, covering the lower laces so the frigid water had to be seeping in and soaking his feet. He held his hands out toward her waist. She glanced past his outstretched arms offering help but could only see the ten-year-old boy he'd been. A boy who wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of such a sloppy puddle to push her down in.

Would he drop her in it now?

She wanted to believe that he had grown up enough to not dump her in the dirty water but was unable to make herself move, staring at him and then at the puddle.

* * *

Orion forced himself to hold his smile and bite his tongue. How long would Tilly make him stand in this cold water? Did she realize it was bleeding into his boots? Certainly she wasn't making him wait in order to return his cruelty from their youth. She had always been kind. He was trying to make up for his transgressions of the past. He would wait her out.

He wiggled his numbing toes. Or maybe he wouldn't wait. "Put your hands on my shoulders. I'll carry you to the boardwalk."

A worried expression crossed her face before she stretched out her arms. She didn't trust him. She couldn't seriously believe the little boy who had mistreated her in their youth would still find joy in her ending up in a puddle. He had much to atone for. Seeing her safely across the cold, muddy water would be one small reparation for the sins of his past.

Her hands settled tentatively on his shoulders, the weight of her now dependent upon him. One step back, and she would splash into the puddle. From her wide-eyed expression, she knew it as well.

He gripped her waist. "Don't worry. I've got you." Which was probably what concerned her. "Put your arms around my neck."

She obeyed and gave a little gasp when he lifted her off the buggy floor and settled her in his arms. Completely at his mercy.

And they both knew it.

He would surprise her by seeing her to safety. Show her she could trust him.

His heart sped up at having her so close. She smelled of lavender and vanilla. Her breaths came in short puffs. Her stiff hold around his neck caused her strawberry-blond curls to brush against his cheek.

When she'd left town four years ago, he'd been upset. He'd fancied himself in love with her. But over the years, he decided he'd just been enamored with a sweet girl as he had been in his youth. Even so, he would stop in often at her folks' store on the off chance they would mention any news of her ... and consequently, he'd purchased things he hadn't needed.

Now with his heart thundering and her vulnerable to him, he knew he wanted more than anything for her to forgive him for all the wrongs he had done to her growing up.

He needed her forgiveness and wanted something more but would have to settle for amiable friends. Anything more would be too lofty an aspiration. Maybe once he made amends, he would find out where things could lead with her.

He sloshed out of the puddle and up the two steps of the boardwalk. He lowered her to her feet and waited for her to be steady before releasing her waist.

She quickly let go of him and stepped back. "Thank you."

The astonishment in her voice tore at him. He did indeed have much to atone for. Gaining her trust would be tougher than he'd thought. He swung back around and plodded through the cold water to retrieve her hatbox. As he handed it to her, the store door swung open, and Mrs. Rockford came out.

His moments alone with Tilly, gone. Likely the last he'd ever have. A hollowness gaped inside him. A place longing to be filled with her forgiveness and trust. The same place that had always hungered for her attention.

Tilly turned and threw her arms around her ma. None of the reluctance she'd had with him.

The two women started into a quick litany of catching up, neither finishing their sentences, neither needing to, apparently, to be understood. Back and forth on three or four topics at once. Too dizzying for any man to follow. The women slipped inside without notice of him.

He returned to the puddle and around to the back of the buggy where the pool of water didn't reach. It had been his good fortune that the puddle had been accommodating and the horse had stopped where he wished.

Unstrapping the luggage, he swung the carpetbag onto the boardwalk and hoisted the trunk. What did she have in this monstrosity?

He lugged it inside.

Mr. Rockford sat behind the counter with his casted leg propped up on a wooden stool.

Tilly dipped to hug her pa. "Are you all right? How are you feeling? Are you in pain? What did the doctor say? Should you be out of bed? When did this happen?"

Mr. Rockford chuckled, which quickly burgeoned into a full laugh. When he caught his breath again, he spoke. "I missed you too, little one." He shifted his gaze to Orion. "Thank you for bringing her home. I'll never have a moment's peace now." He chuckled again.

Orion smiled. "Where do you want this?"

Mr. Rockford pointed. "You can leave it there."

At the same time, Mrs. Rockford said, "Take it upstairs." Facing her husband, she planted her hands on her hips. "And how do you propose it gets upstairs? Fly? You are in no shape to take it. The doctor said you aren't to be doing anything this first week. He probably wouldn't even like you being downstairs. Tilly and I certainly don't have the strength to carry that thing across the floor let alone up the stairs." She turned back to Orion. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would take it upstairs. Tilly's door is on the right."

"Ma!" Tilly blushed.

Mrs. Rockford paid no heed to Tilly's objection and gave him a nod to continue.

Orion ignored Tilly's protest as well. "I'd be glad to, ma'am." He headed up. He'd only ever been upstairs to their living quarters once, a few days ago, when Mr. Rockford first broke his leg. He'd helped carry the older man up to his bed.

The landing opened up to a sitting area. He knew which room belonged to the older couple, so the closed door had to be Tilly's.

He didn't relish the idea of setting the trunk down and then having to pick it up again. He raised his leg and pressed his knee against the doorframe, resting the trunk on his thigh as he turned the knob.

The door swung open to reveal a very feminine room with pink on the bed and on the window curtains. He set the trunk at the foot of her bed and gazed around for only a moment. He didn't want to linger and be accused of snooping.

He savored the coolness of her room after his exertion with her trunk. But he allowed the door to remain open when he withdrew so the room could warm for her. When he returned downstairs, Tilly's friend Jessalynn had joined the trio. Jessalynn was Tilly's age and ran a café in town. He carried Tilly's carpetbag upstairs.

With hardly a notice from the foursome catching up, he stepped out the door. He wished he could stay to enjoy the camaraderie of a family. To belong. He'd lost his father in the War Between the States and his mother a few years after that. He'd been grateful the blacksmith had adopted him and loved the burly man. But now he was gone as well. He missed family.

He stepped off the boardwalk and into the puddle.

"Mr. Dunbar — I mean Orion."

He swiveled around at Tilly's lilting voice. The water sloshed with his motion. "Yes." The eagerness in his voice almost made him laugh.

"Thank you for giving me transportation and for seeing to my luggage." Her cheeks pinked.

"I was more than happy to oblige."

"Would you like to return later to eat with us?"

She was inviting him to supper?

"Ma said, with all you've done, it is the least we could do."

His elation dipped. Mrs. Rockford had invited him. "I'd never say no to a meal prepared by as fine a cook as your ma. I'll be back at six."

Though she wasn't the one inviting him, he wouldn't turn down an opportunity to be near her. Maybe one day, she would see he was no longer a mischievous ten-year-old bent on making her miserable to win her attention.

He would distinguish himself in her mind with kindness, as she had always done to him. An eye for an eye. A kindness for a kindness.

Orion sat in one of the two chairs at the small table in the compact living space, a kitchen and cramped bedroom. His quarters resided inside his livery that housed his blacksmith shop. Pa hadn't had much when he'd adopted Orion but offered all he had to the scrawny orphan boy fourteen years ago.

He unlaced his boots and worked them off. He wiggled his toes. Good. They still had feeling. They had already been cold before wading in that puddle. But the discomfort had been well worth it to carry Tilly. After peeling off his soggy socks, he propped his feet up onto the second chair to warm them near the still-warm stove. Ah, heat.

He didn't have a lot of time to linger before he would need to wash up and dress for supper. But he did need to bring life back into his trotters.

"Hello? Smithy?"

Orion sighed. A customer. "That's all you get, feet." As he stood, he upended his wet boots on the warm stove to dry. The braided rug on his skin was scratchy, but not nearly as prickly as the straw-covered floor beyond it.