“Gifts for her birthday, Christmas, even the Feast of San Agustin. Jessie’s come to expect them from you, Sherrod.” Sherrod lifted the two-year-old from his knee, where he had been bouncing her in the imitation of a horse ride. “She needs a pony, Catherine,” he said, his gaze lingering on the cherub-like child. “With Law’s yellow locks and your gray-green eyes, though they appear greener than yours, I admit the child is extraordinarily beautiful. However, it is your dimpled smile that charmed the beholder. But most importantly, she’ll never ride as well as you if you don’t put her on a horse.” Catherine arched a brow. “And I suppose her next gift will be a horse?” she asked, smiling. “If you had a place to keep the horse, it would be.” He paused, then added, “You do have a place to keep the horse, Catherine. Lucy has been dead six months now. And Jessie needs a father.” His words accelerated, as if he knew she would stop him.
