"Then what is it?"
"It's just ... Damn it, Emma. Can't you see how much it bothers me that I can't provide nice things for my kids?"
Emma set the skillet on the stove. "Of course I can. And I'm not trying to make you feel inadequate. Honestly, I'm not. But
Sam, I have my own income. What else can I do with it? I'd like to share it with you and the children. You're my family now, and I want to help. Please let me do this. It's only a piece of ribbon."
Dammit, they hadn't been married long, but it seemed she'd found his weak spot already. When she gazed at him like that, with that wide-eyed look holding only kindness and her teeth worrying her bottom lip, he couldn't refuse her anything.
"Well ... as long as it's only a ribbon ..."
"And some fabric. The boys really could use some new shirts. And I noticed that Becky's dresses are getting rather snug."
"Emma--"
"That's all. I swear."
"Fine. But that's it.
"Definitely." Emma gave him a smile and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "this time".
Chapter 7
It was almost noon by the time Sam drew the wagon to a stop in front of Connor's Mercantile. With a wild whoop, the boys leaped out of the wagon and raced up the steps and into the store. Emma allowed Sam to help her down, then lifted Becky down and set her on her feet, keeping her tiny hand tucked in hers to prevent her running out into the street.
Becky tugged on Emma's hand. "Me get ribbon now."
"Just a minute, Becky."
Becky's forehead creased in a frown, and her eyes narrowed. Her bottom lip slowly stuck out. "Me go now." She pulled again on Emma's hand. "Now!"
Emma gripped Becky's hand a little tighter as the youngster tried to pull away. She crouched down until she was on the same level. "We'll go when I'm finished talking to your father. Now be still!"
Turning to Sam, Emma shook her head. "I didn't realize she was so impatient."
"Gets it from her mother," Sam informed her. "Has her mother's temper, too."
"I see. I thought she may have inherited that particular trait from her father."
Sam ignored her comment. She was referring to his outburst that morning, and he had no intention of dragging it up again. It still rankled that she was using her own money to buy things for his children, but deep down, he knew she was right. If they were going to be a family, he had to learn to share.
"I'll head on over to the feed store and pick up our supplies, then I'm going down to the telegraph office," Sam said, his gaze shifting to the whitewashed building near the end of Charity's main street. "There should be word from Catherine's parents. I expect it won't be anything I want to hear, but I might as well get it over with."
"Perhaps they won't be too upset the children aren't coming after all."
Sam gave her a wry grin and shook his head. "Upset isn't exactly the word I'd use. They'll be downright furious. When I wrote to ask them to take the kids, I could almost see their faces when they opened the telegram. They've been trying to get control of them since the day they were born. They won't be pleased to lose again."
"I'm sorry you're going to take the brunt of their anger, but I won't say I'm not happy with how things have turned out."
Sam had to admit he was happy, too. In the week since their wedding, he'd managed to get more work done than he had in the whole time since Catherine died. But it wasn't just that. He missed Catherine, and every time he looked at Becky, he saw his wife's face. But he'd noticed the past few days that Emma's face sneaked into his mind from time to time when he least expected it.
"How long will you be?" Sam asked.
"Not long."
"You wanted to pick up some of your things while we're in town, too, didn't you?"
Emma nodded. "There isn't much, but I do have a few sentimental items I'd like to bring to the ranch if you don't mind."