Chase scowled at the thought. He didn’t trust the banker any farther than he could throw him. The jackass rode up every day or so just to rankle the family, and Chase was fairly certain that though the man pretended otherwise, he didn’t always come on bank business. Indeed, there was something very personal about the way he looked at Harriet.

Chase stirred restlessly, wincing when his shoulders protested. Apparently Captain Frakenham was not made for building fences and fighting rambunctious rams. From the very beginning, he should have loftily informed the Wards that sea captains never herded sheep. Never wrestled with sheep. And never, ever ended up with sheep excrement on their boots.

Several times, he thought of saying just that. But seeing Harriet dressed in her old gowns, her hair falling out of her braids as she dragged split rails from the back of the wagon, carried buckets of water out to him and Derrick and the other farm hands, or any of the other hundreds of chores that she performed, made him hesitate. She was working her heart out and so, for some reason, he found he could do no less.

Harriet and her family were remarkable and he found his ragged heart responding to their valiant fight. As if, in seeing them triumph over their troubles, he would somehow find the strength to triumph over his own. He’d never before witnessed a family quite like the Wards. Never met anyone quite like Harriet.

He glanced around the barnyard. “Where is Harriet?” For the first time since he’d been at Garrett Park, she had missed breakfast.

Derrick looked up from where he sat in the cart seat, a book in his lap. He blinked mildly. “I saw her in the hallway not ten minutes ago. She said something about getting the food from Cook.”

And she would appear at any moment, carrying a basket that weighed as much as she. Chase turned and walked toward the house.

He went first to the kitchen, but Cook was busy adding the last few items to the basket. She hadn’t seen Harriet yet.

Chase found that disturbing, but what could he do? He turned to go back outside, but then paused at the foot of the steps.

Some imp of madness tickled his fancy and he found himself looking up the steps at the doors that lined the landing. Hmm. Which bedchamber was it?

Moments later, he was walking down the hallway, when he spied her through an open doorway. She was standing in front of her bed, one foot in her boot as she hopped around, trying to get it over her ankle. She was completely dressed, though there was some sign that she’d braided her hair in far too much of a hurry.

Chase leaned against the doorframe, watching her with some amusement.

She stopped hopping around, the boot only half on her foot. “What do you want?”

“I came to see if you needed any assistance.”

“Putting on my boots?” she scoffed. “I believe I can manage.”