A Love Forbidden by Kathleen Morgan

someone who was concerned with her welfare. As an old friend if nothing else.
    “Just tell Broken Antler to stay away from her,” Jesse gritted out. “Shiloh’s got enough on her hands right now without having to deal with a Ute courtship ritual.”
    “Oh, so now I’m the bearer of threats, am I?” The other man gave a disgusted snort. “And should I tell all the others, too, the same thing? That Nuaru says leave Red-hair alone or else?”
    Jesse could just imagine a long line of braves waiting their turn to fight him. Not that the consideration concerned him—he was a feared warrior and could likely vanquish most or all of them, one by one. Still, the ludicrousness of such an act did give him pause. He didn’t wish to court Shiloh himself, but he refused to allow anyone else to court her? He had to admit it didn’t make much sense.
    He released a frustrated breath. He couldn’t protect Shiloh from every possible occurrence, and this was one of them. She’d just have to deal with it on her own. Which probably—the sudden realization flashed through Jesse’s mind—wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He sincerely doubted she’d accept Broken Antler’s—or any of the other Ute braves’—offer of marriage.
    What might happen, however, was that she’d find it yet another reason to cut short this futile and foolish undertaking of hers. The image of Shiloh being visited by one brave after another, a string of ponies and other gifts in hand, filled Jesse with amusement. Indeed, the offers of marriage could be just the thing to help hasten her departure.
    “You’ve made a very good point, my friend,” he said. “I don’t have any right to interfere. Tell them all that they should do what they must. And if she rejects them the first time or two, encourage them to return again and again with even more ponies.”
    Persune’s crestfallen expression was almost comical, and it was all Jesse could do to keep a straight face. His friend’s response also confirmed a surprising matchmaking streak Jesse had never before noted. Perhaps, in some backhanded fashion, Persune hoped that if Jesse was successful in taking Shiloh to wife, Josie Meeker would more eagerly consider him.
    That dream, however, was as doomed to failure as any Jesse could’ve had, if he’d chosen to have any. Which he didn’t.
    Just then something tugged on the end of his fishing line. Jesse glanced down and saw a flash of silver.
    “I’ve got one!” he cried, and set to battling the fish who seemed quite adamantly determined not to be caught. And, blessedly, in the ensuing minutes, further thought of Shiloh Wainwright and the consideration of what a courtship of her would be like fled his mind.

     
    After four initial proposals of marriage, followed by two repeat offers in the course of one week, Shiloh was nearly beside herself with embarrassment. Nearly everyone in the boardinghouse was teasing her nonstop, and it had gotten so she actually dreaded mealtime.
    Most of her Ute suitors were polite and kind, and it near to broke her heart to see the slump in their shoulders as she tried, as gently as she could, to explain she did not wish to marry anyone right now. One brave, however, a stocky, hard-muscled man with a long, ugly scar down the right side of his face and cold black eyes only seemed to get angrier each time she turned him down. And she didn’t care for the hungry looks he gave her whenever they happened to see each other.
    “When will it stop, Josie?” Shiloh all but wailed one Saturday afternoon two weeks later as they took their daily constitutional down to the White River and back. “Everyone finds this courtship endeavor amusing but me.”
    “Well, not a lot happens around here for entertainment,” her friend replied, waving at Frank Dresser and Art Thompson, two of the Agency employees working on one of the storehouses they passed. “Father, unfortunately, isn’t one for dancing or anything as frivolous as drinking,