They're 5 years old. Their mom had died two years back and I've been trying to raise them on my own, but he trailed off looking down at his boots. When he spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion. I came to town today to post an advertisement for a wife or at least someone to help with the girls and the house. I've been putting it off for months, trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to ask a stranger to take on two wild little girls and a struggling ranch and a man who doesn't talk much and spends most of his time covered in dust and honest dirt." Margaret's heart began to beat faster.
"Then I saw you," James continued, "and I saw how Thornton looked right through you like you didn't matter. But I also saw your face when you first stepped off that train before you knew you'd been replaced. You looked hopeful, brave, like someone who decided to take a chance on something difficult because the alternative was worse. He met her eyes again. My twins need a mother like you.
The words hung in the air between them. Margaret couldn't breathe. I know this is sudden, James said quickly. I know you don't know me from Adam and you just got your heart broke by this whole situation. I'm not asking you to decide right now, but if you need a place to stay while you figure out your next step, the ranch has a spare room.
No obligations. You could meet the girls, see the place, and decide if it's something you could tolerate. If not, I'll pay your train fair to wherever you want to go." Margaret found her voice, though it came out smaller than she intended. "Why me?" James smiled just a little. "Because you're still standing here.
Because you didn't cry or make a scene when Thornton humiliated you. Because you look like someone who knows how to survive hard things." He paused. "And because my daughters are hiding behind the station house right now." And when they peeked around the corner and saw you, Emma said you had a kind face. My girls have good instincts about people. Almost involuntarily, Margaret glanced toward the corner of the building.
Two identical pairs of dark eyes peered back at her from beneath matching braids, then quickly disappeared. "They came with you?" Margaret asked. "Couldn't leave them alone?" James said. "My nearest neighbor is 4 miles away. They come most everywhere with me, he sighed.
I know it's not proper, a strange man offering to take you home. If you'd rather, I can pay for a room at Mrs. Henley's boarding house for the night, and you can think it over. Talk to people in town about me if you want. I understand if you need to be careful. Margaret looked at her carpet bag at the emptying station at the dusty street beyond.
She thought about her $3, about the long journey that had led nowhere, about returning to Philadelphia to what? She had no family, no home, no prospects there either. But more than that, she thought about those two pairs of eyes peeking around the corner, about a man who apologized for another man's cruelty, about someone who saw her standing alone and didn't look away. I'd like to meet your daughters properly," she said. The relief that washed over James's face was unmistakable.
He turned toward the corner and called softly, "Emma, Sarah, come here, please." Two little girls emerged, identical in every way Margaret could see. They had their father's dark hair and eyes, but their faces still held the softness of childhood. They wore simple dresses that had been mended carefully, and their braids were slightly crooked, tied with mismatched ribbons. Girls, this is Miss Ellis. Miss Ellis, these are my daughters.
Emma is older by four minutes, and Sarah is the one with the ribbon coming loose. Sarah immediately reached up to touch her braid, confirming her father's words. Emma stepped forward first, studying Margaret with serious eyes. Papa says you came on the train to marry Mr. Thornton, but he chose someone else. Emma said with a child's bluntness.