Besides, no one deserves to be treated like that, especially not on what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. I'm ruined, she whispered, the reality of her situation crashing down around her. In a town this size, I'm completely ruined. Only if you choose to be, Yates replied, offering his arm. Now, may I see you home before this heat gets any worse.
After a moment's hesitation, Delilah placed her gloved hand on his offered arm. As they walked away from the church, she could feel the eyes of Dallas boring into her back, judging her with every step. But the steady presence of the cowboy beside her gave her something she hadn't expected to find today, a moment of dignity in the midst of her humiliation. What she didn't know then, as they walked in silence through the dusty streets, was that this stranger's impulsive act of kindness would change the course of both their lives forever. Delilah's small house sat on the edge of town, a modest structure left to her by her late father.
It was to this sanctuary that Yates escorted her, conscious of the curtains twitching in neighbors windows as they passed. "Thank you, Mr. Hawkins," she said stiffly when they reached her door, her composure barely holding. "I appreciate your kindness, but I won't keep you any longer." Yates shifted his weight from one boot to the other. "Miss Prescott, I meant what I said back there.
That I'm perfect for you." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You don't even know me, sir, and I'm afraid I'm not in the market for another hasty proposal." That's not what I meant to please, she interrupted, her voice cracking slightly. I just need to be alone, he nodded, replacing his hat. Of course, but if you need anything, anything at all, I'm staying at the boarding house near the livery. My offer of help stands, no strings attached.
As Delilah closed the door behind her, she finally allowed herself to collapse, sliding down against the rough wood as sobs racked her body. Through the window, she watched Yates Hawkins walk away, his tall figure gradually disappearing down the street. The following morning dawned with brutal clarity. Delilah stared at her reflection in the small mirror above her wash basin, noting the shadows beneath her eyes and the pour of her skin. She had spent the night alternating between tears and planning she would need to leave Dallas.
There was no future for her here now. A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Her heart raced as she considered ignoring it, but the knocking came again, more insistent. Miss Prescott, it's Yates Hawkins. With reluctant steps, she moved to the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there, hat in hand.
Behind him sat a wagon loaded with supplies. Mr. Hawkins, I appreciate your concern, but I brought you some things, he said simply, gesturing to the wagon. Food mostly. Figured folks might make it hard for you to shop in town for a while.
Delilah blinked in surprise, then narrowed her eyes. I don't need charity. It's not charity, he replied evenly. It's being neighborly, and I'd like to talk to you if you'd spare me a few minutes. Against her better judgment, Delilah opened the door wider.