A Valentine's Choice: A Montana Sky Series Holiday Novella (The Montana Sky Series) by Debra Holland

the doorway, an uncomfortable look on his face. He had on an oversized blue and white shirt, which seemed to be the only kind the boy wore. In one hand, he held an envelope. “Mr. Gallagher asked me to give you this. I think it’s a Valentine card.” He crossed the room and handed it to her, then escaped as quickly as he could.
    Bridget had to smile at Patrick’s choice of a cupid. He’d probably selected Hunter as the child least likely to linger out of curiosity.
    She looked down at the envelope and found her name written across the front in bold script. With a clutch of her stomach, she opened the flap and drew out the Valentine. She held the card for a moment, not opening it. The card was everything she would have wished for if asked—paper lace and hearts, violets, gilt, a chubby cupid—a beautiful creation. Yet, instead of feeling excited about opening it, Bridget realized she dreaded knowing what words were written inside.
    Slowly she lifted the cover and read, Be Mine.
    Underneath the two words, Patrick had written, I’ve come to admire and love you and would be honored if you would spend the rest of your life at my side.
    Bridget gasped. Although she’d wondered, and at times hoped, she really hadn’t expected a proposal from the man, especially one made in such an indirect way. Patrick Gallagher struck her as someone who’d seize what he wanted with both hands.
    Why aren’t I thrilled? Her lukewarm reaction surprised her.
    Maybe I’m numb with shock.
    “Miss Bridget.” Christine’s face peered around the doorway, her blue eyes full of mischief. “I have something for you.”
    “Come in, dearie.”
    The girl walked over to her. Today, instead of her usual braids, her blonde hair was in loose curls held back by a ribbon. Christine was clad in the pink dress with lace and satin ribbon on the collar and hem, the pretty creation she’d worn to school for the party. She held out a homemade card.
    Bridget set Patrick’s card in her lap and took Christine’s offering. “Oh, how lovely of ye to make me a Valentine.”
    “I didn’t, Miss Bridget. It’s from James.”
    “James!” Just saying his name made Bridget’s heart thump against her chest.
    “We all made Valentines yesterday. Ours for school and James’s for you.” She scrunched her face and shook her head. “His doesn’t look so pretty. But he tried. I just think he needs more practice.”
    A lump rose in her throat, and Bridget had to swallow before she could speak. “Thank ye, child.”
    Christine whirled, so her dress spun out. Then on tiptoe, she danced out of the room.
    Bridget glanced down at the card and touched her name with a fingertip. The crude lace of the doily, if it could even be called that, looked like James had put a lot of effort into making the gift for her. How very sweet of him.
    This card she opened with excited anticipation. Inside, she saw the same message as on Patrick’s. Be mine. But this time, there wasn’t a bold declaration. Like the man, his message was simple, loving.
    Bridget balanced the cards, one on each knee, studying them in the same way she needed to balance her choice. Both good men, attractive men, men who sparked her interest. With Patrick, she’d be secure and never again fear poverty. She could take care of her sister. With such a big house, surely he wouldn’t mind Alana living with them. And his horses… She could see Thunder every day. Coax Patrick into letting her ride the stallion. Probably have her very own mount. Help train Thunder’s foals… Such a life would be a dream come true.
    But… Bridget looked down at the card and reread the message. She’d be at Patrick’s side , and, she suspected, not the center of his heart, or his life. His needs, his wants, would come first, and her own might not matter. She had no doubt he’d allow her potatoes to grow in the garden with the other vegetables, but not in a big field. The treasure of the O’Donnells’ would be for his table