Paper Roses by Amanda Cabot

over, she’d have limited opportunities to say anything to him.
    Clay halted the wagon in front of the mercantile, then climbed out to assist Sarah and her sister.
    “Papa!” He’d no sooner put his feet on the ground when Thea raised her arms toward him. She was a child, Clay reminded himself, but surely even a child could learn that he was not her father. Apparently oblivious to Clay’s frown, the little girl giggled. Then, when he did not immediately pick her up, she wrapped her arms around his leg. Clay’s frown deepened.
    With an apologetic glance at him, Sarah untangled the child’s arms. “That’s Mr. Canfield, sweetie.” She knelt next to her sister. “Say it: Mr. Canfield.”
    Thea looked up at Clay, those brown eyes so like her sister’s glowing with happiness.
    “Papa Clay,” she announced.
    Though Sarah frowned, Clay heard laughter. He glared at the source and said slowly, “Good morning, Miss Rousseau.” Unlike Thea, Isabelle Rousseau understood anger when it was directed at her. Her face red with embarrassment, the young woman bade Sarah farewell and returned to the store.
    Once Clay had Sarah and Thea settled in the wagon, he flicked the reins. The sooner he was across the river, the better. During the time he strode along the Medina’s banks, trying to beat his anger back to manageable levels, Clay had decided to give Michel Ladre one more week. If the man had made no progress in finding Austin’s killer by the end of that time, Clay would take matters into his own hands. And— with only a modicum of luck—within that week Miss Sarah Dobbs and her sister would have realized that Ladreville was not their home.
    “Were you able to find everything you needed?” he asked Sarah as the horses started to ford the river. The package she’d stowed in the back of the wagon was smaller than he’d expected. Perhaps she’d already realized how unsuitable Ladreville was and had purchased only what she needed for the return journey.
    Sarah nodded. “In fact, I accomplished more than I’d hoped.” There was no ignoring the excitement in her voice. That was not a good sign. She was supposed to be discouraged and disillusioned. Instead, Clay had a feeling that he would not like her next sentence. He did not.
    “The Rousseaus have hired me to work in their store.”
    Clay kept his eyes on the river while he tried to dislodge the large, immovable lump that had settled in his stomach. Luck—even the tiny bit he’d hoped for—was not with him. Clay knew, as surely as he did that Austin hadn’t deserved to die, that if Sarah was employed and became part of the community, she and her sister might not leave Ladreville. Ever.
    “Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked, searching for a way to dissuade her.
    “You mean, remain in Ladreville?” When Clay nodded, Sarah smiled one of those smiles that made her almost beautiful. “Yes,” she said. “I want this to be our home.” With a self-deprecating shrug, she continued, “I’ll admit I’ve never worked in a store before, but I’m confident I can do it.”
    Clay wouldn’t dispute that. The letters she’d written to Austin had revealed a good measure of determination. So, too, had her actions in the past day. If the knowledge that her bridegroom was dead hadn’t made Sarah flee, Clay suspected that not much would discourage her. Still, he’d hoped she would come to her senses and return to Philadelphia.
    She was silent for a moment, and Clay could see the indecision on her face. “There is a small problem,” she admitted at last. Her voice told Clay the problem was larger than she wanted to acknowledge.
    “What kind of problem?”
    Sarah hugged her sister, then stroked the child’s head. “I can’t take Thea with me. Madame Rousseau was adamant about that.”
    After watching them together, Clay knew that was a very large problem. Sarah did not like to let her sister out of her sight, even for a few minutes. She wouldn’t, as Pa