not feeling well and have retired for the night. Now get along with you, and be careful you’re not recognized. Come to me when you get back, let me know it’s arranged.” She took her cousin’s shoulders in both hands. “I’m counting on you…in a way we all are. But don’t put yourself in danger. Be very careful.”
Tyra twisted from her grip. “I know how to handle myself. Don’t worry, you can count on me. Oh, this is so exciting.” The girl tucked the note inside her shirtwaist. “I can’t imagine how excited you must be.”
“Hush, now. Hush. Say nothing else, lest you let it slip. You understand?”
The door snicked closed behind the girl, and Wilda went to the window, stared out into the night.
Oh, let this work. Keep us all safe. And let me ride away, free of this place. Oh, please.
Even should her ravaged body be found one day out there on that wild prairie, bones bleached white by the sun and wind, such a fate would be better than the one that awaited her if she remained at Fairhaven and married Blair Prescott.
****
Darkness crept over the bustling town of Victoria City like a blanket drawn by huge hands. In windows up and down the street, lamps came to life. Smith lit a lantern and hung it from the lean-to post in front of the smithy where he and Joshua had worked into the night.
“Wash up and we’ll go git us something to eat.”
Calder stopped pumping the bellows that kept the coal fire glowing in the forge and straightened to massage the aching muscles in his back. Sweat drenched his body, and he went to the trough to splash tepid water over his head and shoulders. As he turned to dry himself on the large scrap of cloth Smith kept hanging nearby, he almost ran into a youngster who stood there gaping up at him. Dressed in too long trousers and a shirt that almost swallowed him, the kid wore a woolen hat that must have been hotter than the hubs of hell in this weather.
“Joshua?” the boy asked.
“Yes. Who might you be?”
“A friend of Wilda’s. She sent you this note.” Pretty eyes, silver in the lamplight, danced in features delicate enough to be a girl’s. But he’d made that mistake before with one of Rachel Johnson’s brood, so he discounted the feeling.
“Wilda?” he asked, not believing the kid could possibly mean that lovely English girl he couldn’t keep out of his mind for more than a minute at a time. The one he couldn’t look at without losing every bit of good sense he might ever had.
“Wilda Duncan. She’s staying out at Fairhaven?” the messenger prodded.
“Yes.” He snatched the folded piece of paper with Joshua written on it in a flowery script, stuck it in his pocket before Smith joined him.
“Thanks, kid. Thank you very much.”
The boy faded into the night, laughter trailing out behind him.
Strange, sure didn’t act like a boy. Still, the way he was dressed…
Calder shrugged and followed Smith across the dusty road toward the Manor. He was hungry enough to eat a horse with a bear chaser, but anxious as he was to read that note, he dared not open it until he was alone.
What could she possibly have written him about?
By the time they returned from a tasteless English supper, and he scooted off to his small room and lit a lantern to read by, he was nervous as a stallion around a filly.
The note looked as if it had been wadded. Perhaps she’d had second thoughts. He read the neatly scripted words twice before he made sense out of them, and even then he wasn’t so sure he understood. She wanted him to come to Fairhaven, hide in the barn and signal her he was there. Hell of a thing. Sounded almost like he might be saving her life. He couldn’t figure that out at all. Still, who could say no to a woman like her? Maybe it was a trick and the sheriff would be there waiting to clap him in chains and drag him off to jail. Or worse, some vigilante posse ready to string him up to a beam. Right there in that fancy barn.
That was stupid. If that
Tyra twisted from her grip. “I know how to handle myself. Don’t worry, you can count on me. Oh, this is so exciting.” The girl tucked the note inside her shirtwaist. “I can’t imagine how excited you must be.”
“Hush, now. Hush. Say nothing else, lest you let it slip. You understand?”
The door snicked closed behind the girl, and Wilda went to the window, stared out into the night.
Oh, let this work. Keep us all safe. And let me ride away, free of this place. Oh, please.
Even should her ravaged body be found one day out there on that wild prairie, bones bleached white by the sun and wind, such a fate would be better than the one that awaited her if she remained at Fairhaven and married Blair Prescott.
****
Darkness crept over the bustling town of Victoria City like a blanket drawn by huge hands. In windows up and down the street, lamps came to life. Smith lit a lantern and hung it from the lean-to post in front of the smithy where he and Joshua had worked into the night.
“Wash up and we’ll go git us something to eat.”
Calder stopped pumping the bellows that kept the coal fire glowing in the forge and straightened to massage the aching muscles in his back. Sweat drenched his body, and he went to the trough to splash tepid water over his head and shoulders. As he turned to dry himself on the large scrap of cloth Smith kept hanging nearby, he almost ran into a youngster who stood there gaping up at him. Dressed in too long trousers and a shirt that almost swallowed him, the kid wore a woolen hat that must have been hotter than the hubs of hell in this weather.
“Joshua?” the boy asked.
“Yes. Who might you be?”
“A friend of Wilda’s. She sent you this note.” Pretty eyes, silver in the lamplight, danced in features delicate enough to be a girl’s. But he’d made that mistake before with one of Rachel Johnson’s brood, so he discounted the feeling.
“Wilda?” he asked, not believing the kid could possibly mean that lovely English girl he couldn’t keep out of his mind for more than a minute at a time. The one he couldn’t look at without losing every bit of good sense he might ever had.
“Wilda Duncan. She’s staying out at Fairhaven?” the messenger prodded.
“Yes.” He snatched the folded piece of paper with Joshua written on it in a flowery script, stuck it in his pocket before Smith joined him.
“Thanks, kid. Thank you very much.”
The boy faded into the night, laughter trailing out behind him.
Strange, sure didn’t act like a boy. Still, the way he was dressed…
Calder shrugged and followed Smith across the dusty road toward the Manor. He was hungry enough to eat a horse with a bear chaser, but anxious as he was to read that note, he dared not open it until he was alone.
What could she possibly have written him about?
By the time they returned from a tasteless English supper, and he scooted off to his small room and lit a lantern to read by, he was nervous as a stallion around a filly.
The note looked as if it had been wadded. Perhaps she’d had second thoughts. He read the neatly scripted words twice before he made sense out of them, and even then he wasn’t so sure he understood. She wanted him to come to Fairhaven, hide in the barn and signal her he was there. Hell of a thing. Sounded almost like he might be saving her life. He couldn’t figure that out at all. Still, who could say no to a woman like her? Maybe it was a trick and the sheriff would be there waiting to clap him in chains and drag him off to jail. Or worse, some vigilante posse ready to string him up to a beam. Right there in that fancy barn.
That was stupid. If that
Similar Books
