Steel Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #2, Chloe and Matthew's story) by Amelia Rose Page B

her, that indignity was at least spared me.
                  Some time had passed before accusations and defenses stopped.  It was a most inauspicious time for any other announcements, but Matthew was determined. 
                  Telling my family about the attack would keep them safe.  I wasn't sure Matthew's timing of the next bit of news would have the same effect for him. 
                  He'd abandoned me to my fate.  I waited to determine what to do about his.
                  "Mayor Anders, you've known my family and me for many years.  We've been neighbors since Hutchinson and I moved here and Annie and her family followed.  I've courted Chloe for several years."
                  My mother had started to smile.  That was a surprise.  My father looked confused, which wasn't a surprise.  He'd talked to Matthew so infrequently that any speech at all from Matt would surprise him.  Mr. Flannigan had finally decided perhaps this wasn't his business and moved off to struggle with the lead to his horse.
                  "I am asking for your blessing, sir, and your daughter's hand in marriage."
                  I'm not sure what my father expected, or even what I did.  He didn't say anything right away, and then he smiled, shook Matthew's hand, said, "You have my blessing," and, for the first time since I had been a very small girl, he kissed me on the cheek.  Then, after looking at me as critically as he might look at a misbehaving civil servant, he turned to Matthew again and said, "I wish you luck, son."
                  Which was the first indication that he considered me more difficult than he considered Matthew.
                  Matthew had enough sense not to laugh. 
     
                  My mother made biscuits and cooked bacon and fried eggs, refusing help of any kind from any of us, then sending me to set the dining table.  We said grace and, immediately after, the conversation came round to my behavior on the previous day.  I did not fare well in the conversation.
                  It was a long breakfast.  Toward the end of it, my mother and Maggie and I started talking about my dress, which caused the menfolk to up and quit the table and actually improved the conversation.
                  That may have been her intent.  When we were clearing and Maggie had stepped away for a moment, my mother took me aside briefly in the kitchen, looked at me sternly and said, "You have a good head on your shoulders.  Use it."  Then, she embraced me again and went back to the dishes.
                  I chose to accept the compliment part of her statement.
     
                  By nine a.m., the Longrens had headed back to Virginia City to work on the hotel, leaving me to ponder questions of dresses and headaches and weddings and Matthew, and to keep my mind from flitting to Violet Hastings or whoever had tried to burn the Queen.  There was no way of knowing now who it had been; hitting me over the head had effectively removed the image of the face from my memory.  When I tried to call up the image, it moved fluidly from person to person, anyone I might possibly know and suspect filling in the mysterious face.
                  I performed my chores by rote, feeding chickens, helping with the cleaning and beginning to plan supper for when my father returned from his office.  If I finished everything in time, perhaps I'd go round to Annie's shop and talk about dresses some more. 
                  Midday, I walked to the grocer's to pick up flour, sugar and coffee for my mother.  After, I'd go by Issy's and threaten not to tell her my news if she didn't promise to keep it to herself.  I couldn't not tell Issy. 
                  At the grocer's, Mrs. Peters bustled about, smiling and friendly as she had ever been.  She never