by Megan McCoy
She stared off in the distance toward the way they had come for a long moment, then shifted her gaze to him. She was shorter than him by more than a few inches causing her to tip her head back far and look up. “I think you saved my life tonight. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“No need. I’m only glad I was nearby.” Raising a gloved hand, he ran his covered knuckles along the side of her face, red both from the strike and the frosty wind. Dueling emotions raged through him. He wanted to tie the men behind Domino and drag them to Kansas City and back. But he also felt a strong urge to pull her into his arms and soothe her. Let her know that he was right here, and nothing would ever hurt or scare her again. “It would have been a shame to have somethin’ so violent happen to someone so sweet.”
She tilted a little towards him, leaned into his touch, then stepped away. “I’ll be fine. I should have known to keep closer to the property.” She moved further away, now backing herself into the house. “Thank you, again, Mr. Joseph.”
“Lyle.” He gave her a smile, as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets against the cold. “Lock up. I’ve got to go, so I can get into town before the sheriff ends his shift. Get a message to the Spencer Ranch about the cattle.”
He spoke the words, the truth for why he should go, but his boots were still rooted on the porch.
“Then you best be on your way. I’ve delayed you long enough tonight.” The corners of her lips lifted in a small smile; he was sure it was for his benefit. “Night.”
“Night.” As she started closing the door, he turned and took the snow-covered steps then headed toward his horse.
“Mr. Joseph… um, Lyle.”
He turned at her frantic whisper and the crunch of the snow.
His heart jolted in his chest, and at that moment if she called him back to her, he would have let the corpse and the man freeze through the night. The intensity of his thoughts shocked him. He reprimanded himself, Rachel had just been through a hellish evening and he was having thoughts of holding her in his arms and comforting her. The thought of a man’s touch probably put a mighty fright in her. Turning, he saw her on the porch. She was waving him over, but it was with his hat in her hand.
Damn. If his blood didn’t always run hot around the pretty lady, he would have noticed he didn’t have a smidge of covering on his hair, which was becoming more snowcapped by the minute.
“Your hat. You don’t want to forget it and catch your death.”
When he crossed the space to where she leaned over the small porch rail, clutching the flap of her cape close to her body with one hand and holding his brown hat out with the other, he saw a wider smile on her lips. She had a great smile, this one wasn’t as bright and Earth-tilting like her real ones, but it was a start.
His heart settled a little, she’d be all right, soon. Claiming his hat, he thanked her. Once he’d brushed off the snow and settled it on his head, he gave her a wink. “I’d been darn near frozen by the time I made it to town without it.” He flipped the collar of his coat up behind his neck feeling the biting wind along the back of it. The wind was whipping up now.
“Be safe.” Both of her hands were buried into her cape now and she shivered.
“I will.” With a jut of his chin, he urged her back into the house.
Giving him a small wave, she went. When the door was closed and he heard the wood plank slide into place, he walked away. At Domino, he launched himself into his saddle, then shoved the blanket back into his bag before setting off. He travelled wide around the Reynolds’ property, ensuring he didn’t alert anyone in the main house to his presence. Rachel had asked him to keep her secret and he’d honor his word. Once he got to the road that led into town, he kicked his horse into a gallop.
This night hadn’t turned out at all how he’d figured. He didn’t mind being around Rachel Morrison; even seeing her from afar always sent fire into his blood. Over the years, he’d kept his distance from her, first because she was way too young, fresh-faced and fifteen the first time he’d noticed her at the Founder’s Day celebration. She’d been standing off by herself watching the kids in the hoop race with a ghost of a smile on her lips, as if someone had come along and painted it there for show. But her eyes, hazel with golden specks he’d eventually discovered, were so sad his heart ached for her. It had been not too long after her pa had died.
Even as the children’s event was going on, he’d left the crowd and gone into Russell’s Mercantile and bought her a bag full of red and black licorice twists. He wasn’t sure which she preferred. When he’d taken them to her, he shoved them in front of her, in an uncouth manner, not having had much decent experience with girls. “Here, I bought these for you.”
When she’d glanced up at him, with her big, round, beautiful eyes and long, dark lashes, she’d barely registered he was talking to her. She’d hesitantly asked, “For me?”
“Yup.”
“Why?” She still hadn’t claimed the small paper sack from him.
He’d swallowed, nervous at all the questions, he just wanted her to take them. “So, you can smile and all. Here.” He recalled shaking the offered candies before her face.
Slowly, she’d glanced away from him to the treat. She’d claimed it. Her soft hands brushing over his caused sparklers to race up his arms, like those they lit on the Fourth of July. It had shocked him, and he’d stumbled back.
She’d let out a small sigh, but when her gaze met his the second time, she’d given him a small smile that winked with a little brightness in her eyes.
Speechless at the sight, he nodded dumbly and stalked off.
Things had been rough for a time for the Morrison ladies. Everyone in town knew her ma started workin’ as the new cook at the Harlot and the Hero trying to keep them in their house, if possible. Eventually, they’d all moved to the boarding house. There was no shame attached to the girls because of their ma’s work. Ms. Kitty, even being a whorehouse, was considered a respectable establishment, even though no one talked about the place in mixed company. It was all on account of Ms. Kitty not only treatin’ her ladies right, she was kind, paid her town dues, and privately was always generous to those in need around Grover Town. A good brothel in town around so many unattached ranchers was a necessity to keep things civil-like.
At that time, he was only a young buck of twenty and he’d just started out at the Rand Farm. He had no funds to even think about courtin’. Then, once she was older, and workin’ at the Reynolds’ place as a housekeeper, and he’d better established a name for himself, work was all he could focus on. Rand hinted that the Farm and Dairy House was getting to be at lot without a right-hand man to take some of the stress off his shoulders. With his boss wanting to marry and all, Lyle had put all his effort into securing the position. All his time and energy had paid off, a couple months ago, he’d won the foreman job, and was able to move out of the bunkhouse into a small house on the property.
Things were looking up for him. However, now that Rachel had been attacked, he was sure she wouldn’t be willing to hear any talk any time soon about picnics and hand-holding. She’d need time, and he’d give it to her. He was just thankful none of the fool-hearted men in town had taken a shine to her and snatched her away before he could make his intentions known to her.
When he arrived in town, by way of passing the schoolhouse, then Doc Clarkston’s home and clinic, he started down the main road where a couple customers were just leaving the Drummonds’ restaurant. Manny’s, across the street, had a fiddler and banjo player offering upbeat Christmas tunes for the customers starting to gather inside. The little saloon’s noise could be heard starting up clear through town. The riotous piano banging, the arguments of the wrangler, and the peals and catcalls to the cheap whores, as they swizzled cheap booze, was just the beginning of a night in town, now that decent folks were closing up shops and settling in for the night. Even with it being three weeks before Christmas, single or unemployed men didn’t stop caterwauling, gamb
ling, whoring, or drinking. They didn’t have much to look forward to in the New Year, except perhaps bringing more opportunities their way, or a train ride out of town, onto the next. He didn’t begrudge them. The little saloon wasn’t his usual kind of place, although he enjoyed the atmosphere of Manny’s when he wanted a drink or two, or to try his hand at cards, or his skills at billiards with the only table in town. Still, the small establishment, that had been one of the first places in Grover Town before the place even had a name, gave some men a place to blow off steam.
Outside the sheriff’s office, he dismounted, then hitched his horse to the post. He removed the blanket again and draped it over Domino’s neck even though he didn’t plan for them to be in town long. Soon, the snow would make the roads difficult to travel and he was trying to get himself in bed before it really piled up and everything was at a standstill. Going up the steps to the boardwalk, he paused when Deputy Nelson walked out the door.
“Hey, Lyle, nice night for a ride.” Robert Nelson, the nighttime deputy finished buttoning up his coat against the cold wind. The man would be married, come spring, to the Reynolds’ youngest daughter, Sophia, now that Isabel was settled.
“If one liked their ass frozen off.” Lyle shook his head. “Deputy Nelson, is the sheriff already gone for the night?”
“Nope. He was just talkin’ to Dilbert about writin’ up the paperwork on the fight at Manny’s saloon.” Robert shook his head.
“Night fall just happened and they’re already getting into it.” Lyle glanced down the road in the direction of the brightly-lit establishment. “Maybe you should pay for a few rounds down there tomorrow night, so they’ll be passed out for Christmas.”
“Probably should. Well, go on in. I’m going to start my rounds.” The deputy started to turn.
“You may want to hold off. I was stoppin’ by to let the sheriff know about two cattle rustlers I discovered hunkered down in the wood past the clearin’ over by the Reynolds’ property.”
Robert frowned. “You don’t say. Come on in.” The other man led the way into the office.
“Evenin’, Lyle. Ev’ry thing all right?” Sheriff Silverman, Lyle’s boss’s older half-brother, questioned when he saw him walk in. He was standing next to Dilbert, who sat at the desk closest to the three cells in the back. There were three other desks situated about the whitewashed room, the largest one sat closest to the door with a golden name plate that had SHERIFF carved into it.
“Sorry to say, I got some work for you this night.” Lyle stayed close to the door, by Deputy Roberts’ desk, and let his body absorb the warmth of the small potbelly stove to his right with a pot of coffee resting on it. He almost asked for a cup, just to take the chill out of his blood from the night.
“Just when I was expecting to head home and warm up my second helpin’ of shepherd’s pie, Ms. Drummond dropped off for us.” The sheriff rested his fists on his hips above his gun belt. “Whatcha got?”
Lyle didn’t waste time explaining the situation on the men, but he left out the parts about Rachel. If he had to tell them what the cattle rustlers had been up to, he’d not tell them who the woman was. He hoped that the one idiot still alive would be smart enough not to bring up a woman, because hanging for rustling would be nothing compared to the year of hard labor, he’d have to work breaking rocks before that.
“Assholes. There goes my night.” The sheriff shook his head. “Lyle, you got time to take us to where you left them?”
“I do. I need to tell you that the one I shot is dead,” Lyle confessed to the lawman.
“I’m sure Spencer will have a reward for you on that.”
“No reward is necessary.” Witnessing the actions the men had done where Rachel was concerned, killing at least one of them had been a justified satisfaction of its own.
“Well, I can guarantee if I request word from Topeka on their wanted posters, those two probably will be on it. So, you did the world a favor.”
“Deputy Roberts, come with us. Deputy Dilbert, see if you can find one of Spencer’s workers at Manny’s and send him along behind us. If there’s two that will save me a trip in the other direction. I know you’re ready to get home to your wife and little one, but I’ll need you to hold down the fort until I return.”
“Yes, sir, Sheriff.” Dilbert rose; after grabbing his hat off the corner of his desk, he headed to the door pulling his coat on as he went.
“All right, men, let’s mount up.” The sheriff strutted to the hooks next to his desk where a wall of outlaw sketches littered the surface like wallpaper. The middle-aged man grabbed his hat and coat before he moved to meet Lyle at the door. “You head on over with Roberts, Lyle, while I swing over to the livery and get a wagon to haul the two vermin back to town. Hope you didn’t have any plans tonight.”
“Nope.” Lyle spoke the truth. He’d probably have ended up spending a couple hours at the bunkhouse with the men that were there, playing poker over a glass of whisky before he moseyed on to the foreman house for some shut eye. “I can spare a little time on a cold night.”
With a quick nod that all his orders would be followed, Sheriff Silverman led them all out the door. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
They all laughed at the sheriff’s comment as each of them shrugged their collars high and went to their horses.
“Just a little while longer.” Seeing the cloud of frost coming from Domino’s nostrils as he stepped up beside him, Lyle took a moment to rub the side of his neck as he spoke to him. His horse neighed and shook his head, knocking off the snow that had settled there. He was a good horse, a snowflake Appaloosa, that Lyle had purchased from a trader who’d bought him out west in Oregon. It had been a steep price, and cost Lyle half of his first year’s pay, but he had never regretted it. Once he removed the blanket off the animal’s neck and shoulders, Lyle mounted up.
“Let’s ride,” Deputy Roberts said before he and his dark grey horse were off.
Lyle gave Domino the signal to join alongside the other horse as the sheriff broke off at the end of the main road to head toward the livery.
Chapter 3
Rachel removed the second kettle of hot water from the stove and poured it into the large copper tub she’d removed from the storage room off the kitchen. She’d already planned to have herself a long soak that night, since most nights her bath was short and quick with so many others in the house with her. It wasn’t her home, but the Tuckers’, and she tried not to be in their way most times. Even though she always took her bath after the three children, while Mr. and Mrs. Tucker did homework with them and then read a Bible story in the front room before tucking them in, in the room they shared since Rachel occupied the third room.
Once her own quick bath was complete behind a dark wood screen in the kitchen, Rachel routinely went to her bedroom and read a little before she slept. Her mornings came early, she generally cleaned the Reynolds’ fancy front room and the dining room and dusted the china in the cabinet before the family rose. She started on the laundry as the sun came up, to get it hung while the Reynolds family ate breakfast. Usually, Isabel and her father had been the first two up and would have tea and coffee together as they spoke about the latest news.
In the months since Isabel had married, Rachel had missed hearing their conversations through the open dining room window as she hung the laundry on the line. Now Isabel was married and due to deliver in the next month or so. Twins no less. Only Rachel’s adoration for her friend had kept her from being pea-soup green with envy. Isabel had children and a husband who loved her, all Rachel had was a torn dress, and ruined cape and pantalets.
She stared down at the steaming tub of water as her mind filled once again with the events of the night. When Lyle had ridden off, she’d spent long moments just simply sitting by the fireplace in Mr. Tucker’s rocker, staring into the blaze, trying to get the chill not just out of her bones, but also her soul. She’d removed her cape, only to replace it with a shawl around her s
houlders to protect her eyes from the sight of her own flesh revealed by the rip in her bodice. She’d sat in the rocker and stitched two buttons onto the cape to replace the ones that had been torn from it. The lovely cape was now blemished by green and yellow, two odd-colored buttons that didn’t match the tan buttons on the walnut material. She was unsure how much time had passed before she had been able to rise without feeling as if she would sink into a fit of tears.
Even now, as she stood in the kitchen by the inviting bath, she felt outside of herself, even while she was safe in the place where she resided. She still felt scared and alone. She admitted to herself that as much as she usually enjoyed the week the Tuckers were away, right now she just wished they were there. Or even that Isabel lived closer. But, with her friend being in the family way and so close to her delivery time, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Rachel go there. Then, there was the snowstorm barreling down on the town. No one was about unless they had to be out.
Lyle was out there.
Her Sir Galahad on a spotted steed. He’d come charging from the trees with rifle blazing. Her mind shifted to how safe she had felt in his arms as he escorted her home. Startled, she jumped at the sound of a log shifting in the hearth, followed by a crackling sound. With the feeling of unease still in her stomach, like a rock at the bottom of a stream, heavy and unmovable, she left the kitchen to check the house, again. Carrying the oil lamp, she had lit in the kitchen, she went into her own room, where she made sure her window was closed and secure. Then she did the same in the other two rooms, even though she had done it two other times already. When she got back into the front room, she crossed the wooden floor to the front door, just to ensure the latch was still in place.
Only then would she be able to get into the bath and wash away the filth of the men’s touches.
