A Christmas Hope for the Orphans’ Teacher (Preview)

Chapter One

Seeing the orphanage on the horizon always brought a feeling of peace to Clara Whitfield. It washed away the worries of the morning, replacing them with a lightness to her step that carried her across the frozen path and to the long and low clapboard house. 

Martha stepped out on the porch, wiping her hands on her stained and tattered apron. “I told you to take the day off.” 

“And I told you that I don’t like being away from the children that long.” Clara smiled and followed Martha inside, pausing long enough to stomp the snow from her boots. 

“It’s nothing but a day. You’d have been fine to miss a single class, especially when the wind is blowing the way it is.” 

Clara gave her friend a playful smile, brushing past her to hang a couple new scarves she knitted on the hooks anchored to the wall. She eyed the little jackets and boots lined up along the wall, hearing a cacophony of voices already flowing down the hall. 

Martha sighed. “I’ll send them into the schoolhouse in half an hour. They have to finish their morning chores first.” 

“That’ll give me time to get the slates passed out for their lessons and their new words written on the board.” Clara took off down the long hall, the boards creaking beneath her feet. There was a hole in one of them just big enough to catch a toe if she didn’t watch her steps. 

She waved to the children in the kitchen before heading out the back door, traipsing across the thin layer of crunchy snow and to the white building that rose up and overlooked the pasture surrounding it.

She pushed open the double doors to the schoolhouse, crouching down to the wobbly desk in the back and pulling a folded piece of paper from her pocket to slip beneath it. Though the paper wouldn’t last more than a day, it would stop the rocking from disturbing the other students. 

Clara got to work quickly, putting slates and pieces of chalk at every desk. The schoolbooks she had were dated at best—and there weren’t enough for all the children—but she did what she could. She placed them on every other desk, dreaming of the day she’d have one for each student.

By the time the children filtered into the room, she had her lesson ready for the day. The children took their seats, but there was already a palpable tension in the room, Daniel and Samuel glaring at each other. 

Emily glanced up from her desk in the back of the room, meeting Clara’s eye with a hesitant smile. Clara brushed by the other desks, greeting the children on her way, and stopped beside Emily. 

At fourteen, Emily was the oldest in the group by a few years. Clara gave her any sense of independence she could and allowed Emily to help with the teaching as much as possible. 

Emily tugged her long chestnut braid over her shoulder. “Good morning, Miss Clara.” 

“Good morning.” Clara smiled and nodded to the other side of the room. “Do you mind teaching Ruth and Sarah their spelling lesson this morning?” 

Emily lit up and nodded, rushing to the other side of the room and sitting down with the young girls. 

Clara turned around, but the second she did, a piece of chalk went flying from one side of the room to the other, colliding with the side of Daniel’s head. 

Before she could cross the room and get between the two boys, Daniel was out of his seat and lunging at Samuel. The two boys fell to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs, fists flying at each other. 

“Nobody wants you around! Even your family didn’t want you!” Samuel landed a solid punch to Daniel’s shoulder.

“At least I had a family!” Daniel shouted. 

Clara paused, shocked by the outburst. Daniel was normally a quiet boy, keeping to himself unless Samuel provoked him. 

Samuel scrambled like a wild animal, flipping them over and punching Daniel hard.

She shook her head and rushed over to the boys, lifting Samuel up and holding him even as he scrambled like a spitting cat, scratching and trying to wriggle his way free. 

“Enough!” Clara’s tone was sharp—one she rarely used with the children. 

Instantly, Samuel stilled, and when she put him down, he didn’t move a muscle. Daniel got to his feet, his face red, a bruise starting to bloom on his cheek and tears welling in his eyes. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Clara put her hands on her hips. “Samuel, we do not throw chalk at people. And Daniel, we do not hit people. Both of you have been cruel to each other and you’re going to apologize immediately.” 

Daniel sniffled, wiping his tears, glaring at Samuel with his lips pressed into a thin line. 

Samuel crossed his arms. “Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” Daniel rocked on his heels, looking like his world was crumbling down around him. 

And to be fair, it was. He and Anna, his sister, had lost their parents only a few short months ago. They were having a hard time getting along with the other children through no fault of their own. 

Clara crouched between the two boys. “You’ve both had difficult lives for boys so young, which is why you must be kind to each other. Try to understand each other and remember that the most important family is the one you choose.” 

Samuel laughed. “Can I choose Bertie the goat?” 

The corner of her mouth twitched as the kids around them started roaring with laughter. Even Daniel was smiling as his tears dried. The ancient goat wasn’t good for much other than a bit of milk, but the children loved her. 

“I suppose.” Clara clapped her hands and stood up. “We’re all going to write letters to Bertie the goat asking her to be part of our family!” 

The children scrambled back to their desks as Clara went to the stack of paper on the cupboard in the corner, passing it out along with the stubs of pencils she kept in a cup on her desk.

Clara stopped at Samuel’s desk, crouching in front of it. “Why don’t you sit with Daniel today? I know he loves Bertie as much as you do.” 

Samuel looked hesitant before nodding and gathering his things, moving to the empty seat beside Daniel at one of the desks. “What are you writing to Bertie?” 

Smiling, Clara finished passing out the paper and took a seat behind her desk, watching the early November snow blowing outside the window and listening to the fire crackling in the stove in the corner of the room. 

If the boys could learn to get along and the funding from the mayor of the next town over came through, the children might not be in such a bad spot after all.

There was little that they could do, but Clara hoped what they were doing would be enough. 

After all, this was the same orphanage that had saved her life. She liked to believe there was something special about the old building and the people who lived within it. 

Though, the little voice in the back of her mind could only focus on one thing. 

What if everything you do isn’t enough?

Chapter Two

Elias Boone sucked in a sharp breath as the head of a nail tore through his finger. He wiped the blood on his pants before grabbing the broken pieces of the barrel in a different spot and stacking them to the side. 

Footsteps crunched in the snow outside the alley, the low rumble of voices getting louder. Elias paused, eyeing the blood welling on his finger again. The wood he was stacking could be used again, but it wouldn’t be useful to anyone if it was stained with blood. 

I should’ve stayed home.

He pressed the skin on either side of the cut together, waiting for the bleeding to stop. 

“Did you hear the news?” The voice was soft, quiet, as if the speaker didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was talking about. 

Elias moved closer to where the alley met the road, listening as the men drew closer. There wasn’t much that went on in Ironwood without him knowing about it, but still, the best way to find out about things he wasn’t supposed to know was to listen.

“’Bout the new church?” 

Elias sighed—he had been hoping for something a little more interesting than the church’s expansion. It would be good for the people of Ironwood and their expanding population

“No, not that.” The crunching footsteps stopped. “Better.” 

“What?” 

“Sharp Clint’s supposed to be comin’ through town,” a man said, his voice low as he and another man walked by the mouth of the alley. “Hear he’s on the run after lendin’ to the wrong person.” 

Elias turned his back to the alley, keeping his face hidden. Few people liked being overhead, but he was good at blending into the background and listening, waiting for people to reveal their secrets. 

It helped when those in town seemed to look right past him—which was exactly the way he wanted it.

“Suppose Sheriff Boone is gonna be looking for him.” The other man chuckled. “Gonna have a hard time finding him though.” 

He’d have to keep track of those men, see what else they knew about the loan shark coming to town. A man like Sharp Clint shouldn’t want anything with a small town like Ironwood. 

Though, wagons did pass through frequently. Less so in the winter, but there was still cause to worry. The road through town stretched into the forest beyond it.

“Nothing good is going to come of that.” The voices faded as the men traveled down the street. 

Elias waited until the men couldn’t be heard, glancing at the blood that had finally dried on his finger before continuing on with his work, now stacking crates to the right of the door that led from the shop into the alley. 

That man was right. Though there was nothing in Ironwood that Sharp Clint should want, the man wouldn’t risk coming into town without a reason. Not when every sheriff on this side of the country was looking for him. 

If I’m lucky, he won’t come into Ironwood.

Elias had never been known to be lucky, though. 

When he was done moving the crates and loading broken barrel pieces into a bin at the far end of the alley, he walked around to the front of the building. 

The bell above the door jingled as Elias stepped inside, tipping his head to the man behind the counter. “Alley’s cleaned up, Ben.” 

Ben grinned and grabbed the crutches, rounding the polished counter while trying not to put weight on his broken foot. “Thank you, Elias. There was a lot back there. Meant to deal with it before I fell on the ice.” 

“Got any gloves?” Elias glanced to the right of the wall of fabric, hoping the general store had stocked up the leather gloves again. 

“Just got some.” Ben hobbled behind the counter and into the back room, coming out a moment later with a pair of gloves in his hand. 

Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins, but Ben shook his head, sitting on the stool behind the counter and shoving the gloves toward him. 

“I’m paying.” Elias approached the counter and held out the coins. 

Ben shook his head. “After all you’ve done for me recently, you’re not paying. Consider the gloves settling my debt to you.” 

Elias frowned. “The help was free.” 

“Take the gloves and stop arguing with your elders, Elias.” 

Snorting, Elias tucked the coins back into his pocket, keeping one in his hand. He leaned forward on the counter, subtly slipping the coin beneath a stack of paperwork. Taking the gloves, he nodded to Ben once more. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” 

“Will do.” 

Elias slipped the gloves on as he left the shop, pulling up the bandana around his neck to shield himself from the blowing snow. He untied his horse from the hitching post out front. There was still one more job to do before he could get out of the ice and the cold for the day. 

And there was a visit to pay to Agnes Hollander. 

Elias wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck, tucking the ends into his jacket. It was a little too long and had a tendency to slip off if the wind tugged at it hard enough. The scarf kept him warm enough for the chilly ride up the hill just outside town, though. 

Before he could mount up, Mayor Silas Trent jogged down the steps of his office next door, hurrying to stand in front of Elias. “I need your help.” 

“What is it?” Elias wasn’t overly fond of the mayor, but he was a good enough man. 

Silas cared for the people in his town, often seen alongside them. There was just something about him, perhaps the way his smile didn’t meet his eyes, that had Elias trying to avoid him as much as possible. 

It could be the way he talks too much and never knows when others are done with the conversation.

Or it could be the natural disdain Elias had for most people. He might not have a problem listening in on other conversations, but Elias was a man who liked his privacy.

Privacy that Silas seemed to love invading.

“Mrs. Hollander has asked me to go to Willow Creek and check on the orphanage. She wants to make sure the funding she provided went to the right projects for the children. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Silas got on his own horse, shifting in the saddle as if Elias had already agreed to go.

Elias fought the urge to tell the mayor no, instead running through the list of projects in his mind that he still needed the mayor to approve. With a sigh, he nodded. “I’ve got matters to discuss with you anyway. May as well work while we travel.” 

Grinning, Silas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Wonderful. I knew you were a good man, Elias. That’s why you’re the sheriff. Now, you and I might not have had the best first impressions of each other, but the ride will take the better part of a day and we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other properly.” 

Please, God, let him change his mind before we reach the forest.

Silas hummed to himself, and Elias thought it would be the moment of relief he needed. 

And then Silas chuckled. “When Mrs. Hollander came to me with this benefactor project, I thought the old woman had finally lost her mind. After the tragedies her family has been through, it would only be expected.” 

“I’m sure Agnes wouldn’t appreciate you speaking about her in such a way,” Elias snapped, bristling before counting to five. 

I have to tolerate him. We work together. He means well, he’s just overzealous and says what comes to mind.

Silas chuckled. “No, of course not. I meant no harm. Her idea was truly brilliant. I’ve been writing to them weekly since the benefactor program started, checked in on them in person twice, but with the weather starting to worsen, Mrs. Hollander wants to ensure those in the orphanage can make it through winter.” 

I suppose I have to give Silas more of a chance. He’s taking checking on the orphanage upon himself, after all. 

Still, Elias didn’t know if he’d survive an entire ride listening to Silas chatter.

Chapter Three

Clara glanced at Daniel and Anna, trying to find a way to make their first winter without their parents special. The other children had already written short lists of what they hoped would be in their stockings on Christmas morning, and Clara had her own list of what she longed to make each child within the weeks to come. Daniel and Anna would be more difficult, though. 

In the last couple of days since the fight, Daniel and Samuel were avoiding each other, but they weren’t throwing fists, so it was an improvement. 

Maybe I should have the children make gifts for each other. Remind them of the importance of caring for one another even when we might not get along.

Martha came over and sat beside her on the worn couch near the fire. “What troubles you?” 

“The children and the holidays, as it does each year.” Clara smiled and glanced out the window at the cows close to the orphanage. “The farming families in town who might not have enough this winter to get by. Daniel and Anna will be without their family for the first time this year.” 

“It will be hard, but we’ll show them that they’re loved. As for the families, you know we will likely have one more child here by the end of winter.” Martha sighed and leaned over the arm of the couch to reach for her knitting basket. “There’s little we can do, even with the funding we receive.” 

What Martha said was true. At least one family would leave their child at the orphanage through the winter, hoping to provide them a better life. One where they would get meals each night and a bed to stay warm in. 

Clara’s heart hurt just thinking about it. She couldn’t imagine being faced with that choice and knowing that what was best for her child wasn’t her. 

She would take what little savings she had from work and arrange for fresh loaves of bread to be delivered from the bakery in town to several of the families who would need it most. 

Martha reached out and put her hand on Clara’s, giving it a squeeze. “When you get to be my age—” 

“You’re forty-two and I’m twenty-one. Stop acting as if you’re an old woman,” Clara said, her tone teasing. 

“I’m double your age. That makes me elderly compared to you.” Martha gave her the same warm smile she had been giving Clara since Clara first came to the orphanage as a child. “Now, as I was saying, when you get to my age, you know there are some families you won’t be able to save, no matter how hard you try.” 

“There’s always something that can be done. I think I’m going to speak with the church on Sunday and see if they want to help me make sure the families get bread through the winter at the very least.” 

“Your heart is so big that some days I worry someone is going to hurt it irreparably.” 

Clara shrugged. “I’ve been hurt more than I care to admit. My mother had to make the same choice that many others have, and the sting of that never quite goes away. But helping others dulls it.” 

“You can’t help others at a detriment to yourself.” Martha took up her knitting once more. “I will help in any way I can, but you know my hands are full with the children here.”

Clara bit the inside of her cheek, her stomach twisting into a knot. “We could ask the mayor for more money. It might be enough to have some for the children and for the families in town.” 

“He’s been kind enough to us.” Martha glanced through the doorway where the children were gathered around the table and eating their breakfast. “We shouldn’t take advantage of that. We’ll simply find another way.” 

The children burst into a round of laughter before quieting down. 

“I know.” Clara stood and smoothed down her skirt. “I’m going to head to town and take care of some of the shopping. Maybe the children can have a break from their lessons today.” 

“You don’t need to do my shopping.” 

“You’ll never have a chance to get to town and get it done yourself. The children keep you far too busy,” Clara said, her tone teasing.

Martha gasped, dropping her knitting, a hand flying to her heart. “Does that mean you’re going to take a day off?”

Laughing, Clara went to the front hall, gathering her coat and boots. “If I was more prepared, I would’ve done the shopping prior to getting here.” 

“It was nice to have you for breakfast. You know the children enjoyed it.” Martha began knitting, the needles clacking together. “They deserve a day off. I’ll send them out to do their chores and then they may spend the day how they like until you return.” 

Clara finished bundling up, waving to the children before stepping out into the crisp morning air. The sun shone bright, the day warmer than the one prior. There was no blowing snow or gusting winds, though the heavy clouds in the sky promised it wouldn’t be long before more fell.

The walk to town was short, taking her down a winding road and past the farm that sat at the edge. She hummed a hymn to herself, staying to the side as sleds traipsed down the street, people laughing and having a good time. 

The children haven’t been for a proper sleigh ride like the town kids.

Guilt ate at her. There was only so much she could do for the children, and getting the supplies for presents would be one of those things. 

She stepped into the store, a blast of warmth hitting her from the woodstove in the corner. She smiled to Mr. Meyer. “Good morning. Do you have any of that striped fabric?” 

“The one you took some scraps from last week?” 

“Yes, please.” Clara glanced around the shop, eyeing the candy. If the scraps of fabric were cheap enough, she might be able to buy the kids a little bag of candy to share. They’d be enraptured with the pretty pieces that looked like colored glass.

He nodded and motioned for her to follow him, leading her back through the curtain hanging behind the counter and into a small room. 

“Here.” Mr. Meyer stooped and picked up a large woven basket of scraps, holding it out to her. “This for the kids again?” 

“Yes.” Clara ran her fingers over the fabric. “I can’t tell you how much the discount you give means to me. Thank you so much.” 

His papery lips pressed together, watery blue eyes lighting up as the corners of his eyes creased. “No charge on the basket today.” 

“Are you sure?” Clara’s cheeks burned. “I have the money for it.” 

“You come in here every week and spend your hard-earned money on the children.” Mr. Meyer shifted the basket. “This one is free. Consider it my gift to the children.” 

“Oh, thank you.” Clara smiled so wide her cheeks started to ache. “I’m going to make them all little dolls to put under the tree as their Christmas gifts this year.” 

“Do you want this delivered to the room you’re renting from Mrs. Brower, then?” Mr. Meyer put the basket on the counter to the side of the storage room. “I can have one of the boys run it over this evening after the shop is closed.” 

“If you wouldn’t mind, that would be wonderful.” Clara led the way back out into the main part of the shop, heading straight for the candy and grabbing a little bag.

She picked up a couple other things they needed at the orphanage before paying Mr. Meyer and packing everything into the little cloth bag she’d brought with her. 

As she stepped out of the store, she started to turn over the idea of asking the orphanage’s benefactor for more money. She didn’t know much about Mayor Trent. Both of the times he visited the children in the past, she had been away. 

Without knowing much about him, she couldn’t think of a way to ask him for more money, especially after all he had done for the children so far. The next round of funding would come with his next visit, though Lord knew when that would be. 

Something wrapped around her foot as she walked down the steps, tripping her when she got to the last one. Clara twisted to the side, grabbing onto the railing and scrambling to right herself. 

Her heart slammed into her ribs as she let out a shaky laugh and stood upright, a slight ache in the backside of her arm from the way she twisted. 

Bending down, she unwrapped the scarf from around her ankle, looking at the slipped stitches and wondering how warm the ugly brown creation could possibly be. It barely passed for a scarf, if she was being honest. 

She eyed two man standing to the right of the store, wondering if it was one of theirs. Gathering the wool into a lumpy ball, she strode over to them. 

“Excuse me, is this yours?” 

A dark shadow fell over her from behind before the two men could turn around to look at her. 

“No,” a deep voice said, “it’s mine.” 

As she turned around to face the man, her heart dropped. She gazed up at a large man with stormy gray eyes and hands that looked like they could span her waist. 

Her heart took off at a gallop. She would’ve remembered seeing a man like him around town before.

Who is he?

Chapter Four

Elias swallowed hard, his mind moving rapidly before coming to a screeching halt as he took in the woman before him. 

The woman flushed a deep shade of pink over high cheekbones, her golden hair shining beneath the sun, her bonnet slipped back on her head from her tumble. Those big green eyes locked on him. “Oh, it’s… beautiful.”

Elias didn’t know if he had ever seen a more stunning woman.

“No.” He shifted a little closer to her, his gaze dropping to her plump lips before flicking back up to her eyes. “No, it’s not. I know it isn’t, but it works.”  

He appreciated the lie falling from her lips, though, and the rosy blush that colored her cheeks. She was a kind woman, it seemed. She had tried to spare his feelings, though he was a complete stranger and it wouldn’t have made a difference in her life either way. 

Her lips lifted into an amused smile, the flush starting to dull. “A scarf as fine as that should be studied.” 

Elias chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And now I know you’re not telling me the truth. Do you often poke fun at a stranger’s expense?” 

“Only when I believe that stranger might find it amusing as well.” 

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I do, then.” 

Her head tilted to the side slightly, and it looked like she was studying him. When her smile spread a little wider, he felt like he had passed some kind of test. He stood a little taller. 

“You know, I could teach you how to make something this fine,” he said, toying with the end of his scarf. “It’s quite a feat of talent and skill.” 

The woman shook her head. “Well, the only—” 

“Elias!” Silas hurried across the street, his cheeks puffed out as he stopped beside him. “Oh, hello, miss.” 

The woman gave him a warm smile that Elias wished was turned his way, if for only a moment. He didn’t know the woman, and he certainly didn’t have any claim to her, but the way she looked at him made him feel as if something would be missing from his life if he didn’t speak with her. 

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Silas said, taking off his hat and tipping his head to the woman. “Silas Trent. I’m sorry for interrupting you, but I must admit, I’m rather glad I did. May I carry that bag for you?” 

Her hand flew to clutch the top of her bag. “Do you always offer to carry bags for strangers?” 

“Only the ones who question me on it.” Silas grinned and put his hat on. “Please, my mama raised me to be the kind of man who at the very least walks a young lady home.” 

“You don’t even know my name.” The woman looked amused, handing over her bag though her gaze flicked to Elias. 

“Well, doesn’t that make the next few minutes more of an adventure?” Silas said, his tone smooth and low. 

Elias fought the urge to roll his eyes. If Silas had a lick of sense, he would’ve asked the woman her name, taken the time to get to know her. However, Silas was only ever interested in presenting himself to people. Taking time to make sure they viewed the image of himself that he wanted them to see.

He wanted to say something to her, but Silas was already offering her his arm. Elias tucked his hands into his pockets, forcing himself to follow behind them even though he wanted to do anything but. He led their horses by their reins.

“I’m afraid you’re going to be rather disappointed.” The woman leaned a little closer to Silas, like they were co-conspirators in some grand plan. “I’m not going home. I’m simply going to the seamstress for some buttons I couldn’t find at the general store.” 

Silas laughed like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard, making Elias roll his eyes, hoping a sleigh would run him over and put him out of his misery. It’d be easier than listening to Silas try to charm a woman who seemed to have very little interest in him, even if she was playing nice. 

“Then we shall go to the seamstress.” Silas stopped, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Where is the seamstress?” 

She burst out laughing, the sound soft and bell-like. Elias wanted to be the one making her laugh like that. 

He couldn’t recall the last time he had been interested in a woman. It had to have been years ago, and even that would have only been a fleeting interest. One that started in the spring and passed by the time summer came. 

“It’s down the road here and to the right.” The woman seemed to nearly take the lead from Silas. 

I wouldn’t blame her if she ran away from him. 

Still, he saw the way the woman looked at Silas, her smile brighter than it had been when she spoke to him, her head tossing back each time she laughed. 

Enough of this. You’re being ridiculous. You barely said three words to the woman.

He toyed with the end of his scarf. She had told him it was beautiful, but he knew it wasn’t. Still, it was something he had made with his own hands, and it kept his mind off memories he would rather avoid. Staying busy always did that.

The desire to get back to his budding ranch and continue working on making fence posts was nearly overwhelming. Hours spent with Silas made Elias want to go back into hiding. Elias preferred to be alone, even if he had forgotten that for a moment when looking at the pretty blonde.

“I’m afraid I do have business to attend to while I’m in town,” Silas said, glancing over his shoulder at Elias before turning back to the woman, “so I can’t offer my expert opinion on gingham.” 

The woman eyed him with disbelief in her eyes. “An expert opinion?” 

“Oh, yes. I know all the things about how to sit back and let someone else tell me which fabric is the best for shirts.” Silas chuckled, stepping over a puddle of melted snow and assisting the woman over, too. 

She shook her head, that amused smile still in place, though there was a little distance in her eyes. 

Maybe he isn’t winning her over like he thinks he is.

Perhaps it was petty, but the thought brought Elias a small amount of amusement. Too many women in Ironwood wished Silas would look at them, spare them the time at dances and whisk them off in a whirlwind romance. 

They stepped outside a shop, snowflakes falling in fat clumps around them. Silas tipped his hat to the woman, handing her the bag and taking his hat. “If we should meet again before I leave town later today, might I know your name?” 

She gave him a small smile, hoisting the bag a little higher on her shoulder before tugging down the sleeve of her coat. “Clara Whitfield.” 

“Well, Miss Whitfield, I must be off to a meeting, but I should hope to see you again.” Silas eyed her, lingering like he wasn’t ready to leave.  

Elias bit back a groan, tucking his hands deep in his pockets and rocking on his heels slightly, wishing he could be out of the cold and back home where he belonged. There was a window in the small kitchen he’d built himself that needed to be sealed properly before the true snowstorms came. 

Miss Whitfield clasped her hands together. “Thank you for walking with me, Mister Trent, I—” 

“Call me Silas, please.” He cast her another longing look before turning to Elias. “We best be off to the meeting. By the looks of those clouds, the storm is going to come in quick, and I want to be as close to home when that happens as possible.” 

With a sharp nod, Elias turned on his heel, striding down the street, hoping Silas wouldn’t linger too long. 

Silas fell into step beside Elias quickly. “She was quite a fine woman, don’t you think?” 

“I suppose.” Elias didn’t want to give Silas an opinion one way or another. It wasn’t his place to tell the other man that he shouldn’t take an interest in Miss Whitfield. 

I have no claim to her. If he wants to take pursue her, then that’s his prerogative.

“I should write her a letter. Do you suppose we should turn back and ask her where one would send the letter?” 

Elias shrugged. “Just address it to Clara Whitfield of Willow Creek and the postmaster will make sure it gets to her.” 

“Perhaps I could send one of the young boys from Ironwood,” Silas said as if he hadn’t listened to a word from Elias’ lips. 

“You could.” Elias cleared his throat, wanting to change the topic from Miss Whitfield to something safer. 

Anything else, really. 

Thinking about her would only remind him that he hadn’t thought much of a woman before her in a long time. 

And if he were being honest with himself, he had no purpose in thinking about her now. This would be the first and last visit he paid to Willow Creek.

“As the mayor of Ironwood, I should have a wife soon, don’t you think?” Silas kicked a rock, letting it bounce down the road in front of them. “Some of the women in church have said as much when they think I’m not listening, and I think they might be right. Having a good woman and a budding family at my side would present the right image.” 

“Shouldn’t you care about the woman you marry as more than just a pawn in your political game?” 

Silas clapped him on the shoulder, laughing and shaking his head. “That’s the point of sending the letters, Elias. I can hardly spend time here when everyone needs me back home, but I can send her letters and get to know her that way.” 

“Do as you wish.” 

“Elias, you are rather ill-tempered today.” 

Now would be the time Silas chooses to pay attention to everyone around him instead of getting lost in his own ideas.

“We should just get this visit over with.” Elias turned down the road that led to the orphanage, stomping his boots to get off some of the excess snow and mud. 

“One of these days, someone is going to come into your life the way Miss Whitfield has come into mine, and they’re going to change the way you think about everything.” Silas’s grin stretched wider, his eyes shining as he once more got lost in his own head. 

Elias snorted and shook his head, eyeing the orphanage and the schoolhouse that sat at the top of a small hill. “Like I said, get to know the woman before you decide she’s going to be the one you spend the rest of your life with.” 

“I’ve made my decision. I’m not one who is going to be swayed now.” Silas nodded to the horses. “Let’s mount up and head out. It’s a nice day for a ride and I need help determining what to Miss Whitfield to win her heart.” 

Elias bit back the scoff, lifting himself into his saddle while Silas did the same beside him. 

Silas hummed to himself, riding ahead and leaving Elias to stare at his back, following the man into what Elias was sure was going to be an even longer afternoon. 

Still, it gave him time to think of Miss Whitfield and those stunning eyes, even though he knew nothing good would come of spending any time staring into those swirling forest green depths.