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she stepped out of the butcher shop. “Congratulations.”
    “There isn’t going to be wedding,” he informed her as he pounded by. Best to nip that rumor in the bud. Up ahead his girls were astride their pony—the animal was halfway up the steps at the end of the boardwalk.
    “No, Pumpkin!” Gracie huffed out in exasperation. “Turn around. Turn around!”
    “Make her back up,” Hope advised, reaching out to give the reins a tug.
    Pumpkin neighed in confusion at the contradictory instructions and charged forward onto the boardwalk instead of retreating back to the street.
    “That’s gonna be another fine, Doc.” The sheriff moseyed over, his tin badge glinting in the late afternoon sun. “Your girls have been racking them up lately.”
    “Just my luck.” Caleb reached out, caught hold of the pony’s bridle. “Sheriff, I’ll stop by on my rounds tomorrow and pay up.”
    “I’d appreciate it.” The lawman stood guard, watchful lest the pony charge up onto the boardwalk again.
    “Just awful,” a woman was saying as she watched from across the street. “Those poor children.”
    “Their mother would be turning in her grave if she knew,” her friend agreed.
    Caleb turned his back, trying not to hear anything more. He knew he was failing as a father. He may have made light of the situation, making jokes with Clementine, but the truth was a painful thing. Marriage had broken his heart, and Lena’s death when the twins were small had shattered those broken pieces.
    True, the girls did need a mother’s guidance. There was no doubt about that. Look at them on their pony. No other child in town—girl or boy—could cause this much commotion in so little time.
    “Back up, Pumpkin.” He exerted enough pressure to convince the mischievous pony to descend the stairs and return to the street.
    “Whew!” Gracie wiped sweat from her brow.
    “Thanks, Pa!” Hope flashed him her best grin.
    “See ya at home!” Gracie reined the pony, as if to head off at a dash down the street.
    He was smart enough not to let go of the bridle. The pony stood in place, watching him resentfully. She wanted to run wildly up the street, too.
    “You girls are coming with me.” Time to put his foot down and set some stricter rules. The ones he’d had didn’t seem to be working. “No pony riding for a week.”
    “No, Pa!”
    “Pa, no!”
    “Pumpkin stays in her stall or in her corral. She doesn’t step hoof outside those boundaries. Understood?”
    “What about if there’s a big storm and the barn roof caves in?” Gracie wanted to know. “Can she leave then?”
    “Or what about a fire? She’d have to leave or she’d burn up to a crisp.”
    “Yeah, or if the river flooded, she’d drown. Glub, glub glub.”
    “Stop looking for technicalities, you two.” Putting his foot down, that’s what he was doing. Taking control of the situation.
    As they headed down the street, he nodded toward the women on the boardwalk, whispering their disapproval to themselves. He tipped his hat toward one of the deputies who was watching the proceedings along with the sheriff. And then there was Clementine Parks.
    She stood with the sun on her back, outlined in golden light. In her patched dress and ringlet curls, she looked fresh-faced and beautiful, outshining her poverty. Her features were porcelain. Her sweetness captivating.
    Not that he was noticing.
    “Mrs. Clementine!” Gracie hollered. “Do you like Pumpkin?”
    “Yeah, do you like her?” Hope echoed. “She’s the best pony. We love her.”
    “She’s certainly spunky.” The woman’s genuine affection for the girls was incandescent. Unlike the other women in town, there was no hint of disapproval, no stern looks. Just sincerity. Somehow that made her all the more beautiful. “I had a pony very much like her when I was your age. Her name was Mrs. Wiggles and she had black spots.”
    “You can ride Pumpkin any time you want!” Gracie offered, leaning back to shout