The only time he truly let down his guard around her was when he played with his daughter. Only then did she glimpse the rare, brilliant smile he reserved strictly for Janna. Heather was always unprepared for the stab of envy that pierced her at that smile. She wished just once Sloan would look at her that way, as if she were the light of his life, the sun around which his entire life revolved.

Instead he remained wary and terrifyingly remote. Once he even frightened her. It was late afternoon toward the beginning of her second week in Colorado. She’d found a beaded buckskin coat in the corner of a closet, stained with what might have been blood. She was scrubbing the garment at the kitchen sink, using a recipe of Winnie’s, when Sloan came up silently behind her.

Heather nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his savage bark. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She whirled, startled to see the seething fury on his face. “I was t-trying to clean away the stain.”

He ripped the coat from her grasp. “Don’t. Don’t dare touch this again, do I make myself clear?”

Too astonished to reply, she simply stared. Sloan spun on his heel and disappeared upstairs without even stopping to greet his daughter.

On rare occasions, however, there were moments when they seemed almost like a married couple. It was always late at night in his study, when she would sew or quietly read while he worked on the account books. He had never actually invited her into the masculine domain of his study, but neither did he refuse her entrance. Perhaps it was stubbornness, or merely a way to ward off the stark loneliness, but Heather made a habit of retiring there after putting Janna to bed, to await his coming. Unexpectedly she found a wide selection of leather-bound books on the shelves that lined one side of the room, some with the McCord brothers’ names inscribed inside, others which had belonged to their father Ben or their mother Elizabeth.

When at last the weather thawed a little, Heather met some of her neighbors. Several of the women came to call, bringing favorite dishes or small homemade gifts to welcome the new Mrs. McCord to the community. Heather found their open frankness surprising but a welcome respite from the stifling, shallow society in which she’d been raised.

She also met Caitlin’s friend Sarah Baxter when Rusty drove her into town to buy supplies at the general store. Greenbriar was much like Caitlin had described. Nestled in the rugged foothills, it boasted a saloon and jail, a barber and bathhouse, a blacksmith and livery, a church, and several clapboard storefronts. Main Street was unpaved and six inches deep in mud and melting snow, but wooden boardwalks lined both sides.