Letting go of her arms, he traced a path up to her face and lightly stroked the edge of her cheek. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, so he watched his fingers move back and forth along the soft skin.
“Yes, angel.” The words hitched in his throat. “I’d stay. I’d marry you and spend the rest of my days loving you. We’d have children and raise them to follow their dreams and passions, making sure they knew their parents believed in them and saw them as people of value and worth. We’d grow old together, and sit on the porch in matching rocking chairs and watch the sun go down while we reminisce about how an ornery outlaw brought us together.”
Moisture trickled into the path of his fingers. She was weeping. Biting back a groan, he dragged her into a hug and tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder. For once, he was the one instigating, a fact that should surprise him but oddly didn’t. His barriers had crumbled. No more holding back, no more protecting the hidden places inside him.
She loved him. If she could bear up under the uncertainty of the future, so could he.
He ran a hand over her hair as her brow nestled against the side of his jaw. “Maybe someday, when things change . . . But for now, your place is here. And as much as I believe in your work and in this place, I don’t belong in it. There’s no permanent place for a man in a women’s colony.”
She pulled back from him and gazed into his face with tear-filled eyes at odds with the smile curving her lips. “Don’t you see, Malachi? Your belief in this work is exactly why you do belong.”
Emma took another step backward, so much energy vibrating through her, she couldn’t stand still. “This place was never created to keep men out. It was created to give women power over their own destiny. Omitting men just seemed to be the easiest way to accomplish that feat. But our ladies voted, Mal.” She clasped his hand and beamed up at him. “They voted to accept you as a permanent resident of Harper’s Station. Unanimously, I might add. You’ve earned their trust, their loyalty. You’re family now.”
Mal reeled, not quite able to absorb what she was saying.
Emma winked and squeezed his hand. “Even Helen voted to let you stay.”
Hope surged to such fierce heights inside him, he balked. Afraid to believe he could finally regain what he’d lost a decade ago—a home.
“But what would I do?” Mal tugged his hand from her grasp and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t exactly stitch a quilt or put up vegetables. A man has to work, Em. I can’t stay if there is no way for me to provide for you, for a family.”
Her smile never dimmed. “That’s what we met about today,” she said. “We fully expect the town to start growing again. Grace will be sending telegrams out to those who left us at the start of all the trouble, letting them know it is safe to return. And others will come, too. Especially if we can promise them protection.
“Some of these women come to us seeking sanctuary from abusive fathers or husbands but are afraid to stay because they don’t feel safe with only females standing between them and their abusers. But if there was a man, a good man—say, a town marshal—willing to guard them, they’d be more likely to stay and eventually to thrive as the strong women God always desired them to be.”
A marshal? Mal nearly laughed at the irony. How many times had he evaded the law during his youth? And now she thought him worthy of being the law, himself?
“Think of Lewis and Ned and the other returning families with children,” Emma continued. “They need godly men in their lives. Boys need an example to emulate, and girls need a way to recognize a man of character who will respect and honor them.
“The pay wouldn’t be what you’re used to at first, but as the town grows, so will your salary. We’ve already voted in a city tax ordinance. Of course, it’s with the understanding that when things are quiet, you’ll make yourself available to assist with things that require heavy lifting or repairs. Betty said if you’d help her build on to her henhouse, she’d donate a percentage of her profits from the additional chickens to the law enforcement fund.
“Mr. Porter convinced Tori to expand her business, as well, by starting a delivery route to area farms and ranches, saving the owners from having to travel into Seymour or Wichita Falls for supplies. If that partnership proves as lucrative as they expect, that will mean increased sales of all our products—quilts, canned goods, eggs. The more the economy grows, the more we can afford to pay—”
“Slow down.” Mal chuckled, holding up a hand. His stunned mind could barely keep up with her rapid-fire explanations.