Love is Blind (Cutter's Creek Book 8)

by Kit Morgan

  “Should’ve been married ‘fore they left here,” Oscar said sternly. “Wasn’t right, them bein’ on the trail so long together.”

  Emma perked up even more at that. “Really?”

  “Oh, I’d have married them if I could have,” said Preacher Dan. “But not without that gal’s legal name or age.”

  Emma slumped on the sofa. She had visions of the preacher marrying her and Mr. Judrow – except he’d be marrying Taloa Branson, not Emma Carlson. Unless she told him who she really was. But what did it matter? The man would probably be gone in the morning. She stole a glance in his direction, to find him looking right at her with that same intense expression. What could he be thinking?

  “I’m glad things turned out for them two,” Preacher Dan said with a smile. “What’s for dessert?”

  “Yer fav’rite, what else?” Mrs. White said. “I’ll get the coffee.”

  “You made it already?” Preacher Dan asked happily.

  “Sure,” she said. “Knew ya’d be comin’ sometime t’night.”

  Preacher Dan rubbed his hands together in glee. “Apple pie and coffee!”

  Mrs. White and her sons laughed. Even Mr. Judrow smiled at the man’s enthusiasm.

  Emma kept watching Mr. Judrow. Did he find her attractive? Would he stay on a day or two? If he did, she’d take it as a good sign he liked her. Why else would he stay?

  He took one last look at her before turning to Mrs. White. “That was a mighty fine meal, ma’am.”

  “Thank ya, Mr. Judrow. But Oscar done most o’th’cooking.” She turned to Preacher Dan. “That reminds me, we made a cake today but saved ya some apple pie from last night.”

  “That’ll suit me fine!”

  She turned back to Mr. Judrow. “Cake or pie fer ya?”

  Mr. Judrow swallowed hard as his cheeks flushed the tiniest bit. “Begging your pardon ma’am, but I do have a bit of a sweet tooth …”

  “Say no more, son,” said Mrs. White. “Get ya a slice o’each.”

  “So long as there’s enough for everyone. I actually was going to ask which you thought was the best.”

  “Both,” Preacher Dan said with a laugh. “Give the man a helping of each. Might make him stay on a day or two!”

  “Now that’s a right fine idea,” Mr. Judrow agreed.

  A tiny gasp escaped Emma as her eyebrows shot up in delight.

  She jerked her head away just as Mr. Judrow glanced in her direction. “In fact, I think I’ll just hang around here a few more days if it’s no trouble for you, Mrs. White. I find myself in need of some rest.”

  Emma pressed her lips together to keep from giggling like a monkey.

  “So long as ya have the money, stay as long as ya like,” Mrs. White said.

  Emma took a deep breath and held it. She slowly turned her head in Mr. Judrow’s direction. “Don’t stay on my account,” she said. “I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  He smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

  Later that night, Lucius lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. “Taloa Branson” was Emma Carlson, he was sure of it. Mrs. White had given him the confirmation he’d needed. The rest was simply a formality – or a fight, if Miss Carlson wasn’t going to come quietly. But as she wasn’t married, there was no good reason he shouldn’t take her back to her brother.

  He’d been paid good money – half his fee up front – the contracts for his services had been signed, and the rest of his money waited for him back in Cutter’s Creek, Montana Territory. All he had to do was deliver Miss Carlson to her brother. First, however, he had to break the news to her.

  That, he suspected, might be easier said than done. Emma Carlson was nothing like her brother – she was a free spirit, willing to take risks, and younger in heart than her age. What grown woman climbs trees? But he found he admired that. And to stifle such spirit would render her heartbroken. He didn’t want to deliver a drudge to Jack Carlson.

  He sighed at the thought. Like that was about to happen. The girl had managed to get herself to Oregon, had the fortitude not to continue on to Oregon City where she might be found (why else would she still be with the Whites out in the boonies?) and was making a life for herself here. If she ever wanted to marry she’d have to leave Mrs. White’s employ.

  Well, she did have another option: marry one of Mrs. White’s sons. But Anson had already stated his lack of interest, and Henry … Henry was unlikely to ever marry, given his obvious feeble-mindedness. That left only Oscar, who hadn’t shown any inclination toward her either.

  But he still had more questions. Why was her brother so adamant she be found and returned to him in the first place? What if she did want to marry Oscar, and vice-versa, but he simply hadn’t seen the signs yet? Perhaps he’d better look into that before he whisked her off to Cutter’s Creek. If Oscar wanted to marry her, who was he to interfere? Miss Carlson’s brother surely knew there was a possibility she might have wed. She could have done so along the trail, for all he knew.

  But she hadn’t, at least not yet. Lucius could tell she was sweet on somebody, given the cow-eyed look on her face a few times during supper. She wanted to sit at the table with the rest of them, he could tell.

  If that was the case, it had to be Oscar. He’d ask him first chance he got tomorrow and find out his intentions. Based on that information, he’d know what to do next.

  His plan in place, Lucius turned over, punched his pillow a few times and settled in to sleep.

  6

  Lucius ducked as Oscar took another swing at it him. “Mr. White, please be reasonable!”

  “Are you insultin’ Miss Branson?” Oscar bellowed.

  Lucius spoke slowly and deliberately. “No, I am not! All I am asking is if you feel affection for her.” He backed up a few steps, in case Oscar decided to throw another punch.

  “Well, why didn’t ya just say so in the first place?” Oscar asked, hands on hips.

  “I would have, if you’d let me finish my sentence.”

  Oscar looked him up and down, then sighed. “Then don’t look so suspicious when you’re askin’ somethin’ like that. Otherwise a man might think yer up to no good.”

  “On the contrary.” Lucius straightened his hat. “I saw the way she was looking at you last night, so I thought I should inquire.”

  “Looking at me?” Oscar said in shock. “Taloa, sweet on me? Ha! If she was looking at anyone it would’ve been you.”

  “Me?!” Lucius backed up another step. “That’s highly unlikely – why would she be interested in me? I’m just passing through.”

  Oscar shrugged. “She notices all the men that come through here. Ma says she’s got marryin’ on the mind.”

  Lucius thought he’d press the issue, just to make sure. “And what about you? Are you marriage minded? Miss Branson seems like she would make you a good wife.”

  “Are ya out of yer mind?” Oscar bellowed. “She’s just a girl.”

  “A girl of marriageable age,” Lucius pointed out. “And an attractive one besides.”

  Oscar made a meaty fist. “Now see, there ya go again. Comments like that’ll get ya a punch in the mouth. I know she’s a woman full-grown, but she ain’t the best choice for me. I mean … she climbs trees!”

  “She’s a free spirit.”

  Oscar sighed and scratched his head. “I suppose. I also think she’s got a lot to learn before she’s any man’s wife. She gets all sorts of fancy ideas in her head about menfolk. Maybe she read a lot of those romance novels while coming west.”

  “Maybe,” Lucius agreed. So she wasn’t interested in Oscar … wait a minute. He looked at Oscar, cocked his head to one side and jabbed his own chest with a thumb. “You think she was looking my way?”

  “I watched her do it more’n once last night. Even Preacher Dan noticed.”

  “He did?” Great. This was all he needed.

  “And as a matter of fact,” Oscar continued, “I saw ya looking at her, too.”

  Lucius’ eyes nar
rowed. “I did nothing of the kind.”

  “Sure looked like it from where I sat.”

  “You saw nothing, because there was nothing to see. Why are we even having this conversation?”

  “On account of ya comin’ into my kitchen and askin’ if I thought Miss Branson was a ‘delectable piece of womanhood’!”

  Lucius sobered. “Oh yes, I did, didn’t I? Well I suppose I could’ve worded that differently.”

  “Ya suppose right,” Oscar opened the oven and took out a pan of biscuits. “How much longer ya plan on staying?”

  Now what was he going to say? There was no reason not to take Emma back to her brother. Problem was, he was sure he would have to convince her to come with him.

  “Well?” Oscar urged.

  Lucius casually shrugged. “A few days, maybe. Then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Oregon City?”

  He shook his head. “Cutter’s Creek, Montana Territory.”

  “Ya live there?”

  “I… have some business there to attend to.”

  “Then where do ya live?” Oscar asked, tossing the pan of biscuits onto the worktable with a clatter.

  Lucius was growing tired of what felt like an interrogation. “I go from place to place and find work. Haven’t settled in any particular place just yet.”

  “Traveling man, eh?”

  “Of sorts.”

  Oscar studied him a moment. “Ya’ll do right by Miss Branson, won’t ya?”

  Lucius started. “What exactly do you mean?”

  Oscar made a scornful face. “The only reason ya’d be staying on is ‘cause of her. Nothing else makes sense, ‘less it’s for my cookin’. But even then, men don’t stay more than a couple nights. They always ask me to make them up a special batch of somethin’ to take with them, though.”

  Lucius’ jaw tightened. Oscar was purposely backing him into a corner. “I assure you, Mr. White, I have no romantic interest in Miss Branson.”

  “Then what are ya hangin’ around for?”

  Lucius sighed in impatience. He might as well square with the man. “The truth is, Mr. White, Miss Branson’s brother hired me to find her.”

  Oscar’s eyes widened, not with shock, but concern. “Her brother? She never mentioned she had any kin that was alive. We thought she lost them all in the war.”

  “For all she knows, she did. But her brother’s alive and well and living in Montana Territory. As soon as we figured out where she might be, he sent me to fetch her.”

  “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled.” Oscar scratched his head again and looked to the ceiling.

  Miss Carlson must be in her room, Lucius thought. “He’s very worried about her, Mr. White, and wants me to bring her home to him.”

  “Ya already said that.”

  Lucius shrugged. “It’s worth repeating. I do need to get on with it, and I would appreciate you not saying anything to Miss Branson – who, I might add, is going by an assumed name.”

  Oscar’s eyebrow rose. “She is? How did I not see it?”

  “How could you? You don’t know her.”

  “Ya don’t either, for that matter. How do ya know she’s who yer searchin’ for?

  “Her description and circumstances match what I’ve been given. It’s her, all right.”

  “Then what are ya doin’ here with me? Go tell her her brother’s alive!”

  Lucius felt himself relax. He hadn’t relished a fight with Oscar, who was his match in height but strong as an ox. “Thank you, I’ll do just that,” he assured the man, and left the kitchen.

  Emma sat in a chair in her room, her foot propped on a stool. Her ankle looked awful, red and swollen, and it would definitely be a few days before she was able to walk on it again. With her luck, it would be longer.

  Pride had caused her to hop up the stairs to her room last night. She wouldn’t have minded if Mr. Judrow had carried her up, but he’d retired before she did. She certainly hadn’t wanted Henry to do it - he’d have proposed to her the next morning, if not at that moment. If she’d let Oscar help her, he’d think she couldn’t work, and she needed this job.

  She’d assured everyone that she’d stay off it for a day or two and be right as rain. She’d at least have to act like it whether her ankle was better or not. If she couldn’t pull her weight, she’d have to move on – and the only place to go from here was Oregon City. She couldn’t chance that yet, not and stay undiscovered.

  A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called. It must be Mrs. White coming to check on her.

  The door opened, and she gasped. “Miss Branson?” Mr. Judrow said. “May I have a moment of your time?”

  Emma’s heart fluttered. “Why, of course, but… I can’t very well come into the hall and you definitely can’t come into my room.”

  “I won’t have to. I’ll make this brief,” he said.

  She studied him a moment. He looked quite serious. Was something wrong? “What do you want?”

  He glanced this way and that to check the hall but didn’t step into her room. “I have a message from your brother.”

  “My… br-brother?” she sputtered, then quickly collected herself. “What brother?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against the doorframe. “Jack Carlson.”

  Emma felt the color drain from her face. A dead giveaway, but she couldn’t help it. Worse, “Jack?” came out barely a whisper.

  “He sent me here to fetch you, Miss Carlson, and bring you home. He’s been going out of his mind trying to find you.”

  Emma’s mouth flopped open as she jumped to her feet – make that foot – and almost fell over.

  Mr. Judrow was at her side in an instant and helped to right her before she landed flat on her face. “Are you all right?”

  She slapped at the hand that held her. “Of course I’m not all right! Let go of me!”

  “I know this must be a shock …”

  “A shock?” she snapped. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

  He let go of her and she teetered, but he caught her before she went over, put an arm around her and guided her back to the chair. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Miss Carlson.”

  “Don’t call me that!” she hissed, her eyes darting to the door.

  “It’s your legal name. It’s high time you started using it.”

  “I … I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “I’ll leave your room, but I’m not leaving the stage stop. Not without you.”

  Emma didn’t know what to say, then finally came up with, “I thought you were going to Oregon City, Mr. Judrow. I wouldn’t want to detain you.”

  “I was only going to Oregon City because I thought I’d find you there. Since you’re not, what would be the point?”

  “I … that is, I … don’t know what you’re talking ab–”

  Mr. Judrow cut her off with a laugh. “Stop it, Miss Emma Carlson. The game is up, and you’re a rotten liar.” He studied her ankle. “That must hurt. We can’t leave until you’re healed up.”

  “Leave? I’m not going anywhere!”

  “Yes, you are,” he said sternly.

  “You can’t order me about! I said I’m not going anywhere!”

  “Ma’am, your brother paid me good money to come fetch you, and I aim to do just that.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” she growled. “I won’t go!”

  He smiled crookedly. “So you admit to being Emma Carlson?”

  “Oh! You… you don’t know who I am!”

  “Taloa Branson?” There was mockery in his voice.

  “Exactly!”

  “Then why are you getting so flustered? If you’ve told these nice folks who you truly are, then you have nothing to worry about. If, on the other hand, you lied to the Whites,” he continued with a shrug, “then my guess is they’ll be mighty disappointed in you.”

  Her mouth dropped open even as h
er eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare! The Whites are nice people.”

  “On that we agree.” He hunched over, his hands on his knees, and got in her face. “I have no idea why you’d want to stay here when you can have your big brother take care of you. That man only wants the best for his little sister as far as I can see.”

  “You see nothing. And I won’t go!” she said through clenched teeth.

  His eyebrows rose with amusement. “Soon as that ankle heals, you will.” He straightened and went to the door. “And if you don’t tell the Whites who you really are, I will. See you at supper, Miss Carlson.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Emma felt her face go red. “Arghh!” she groaned and hit her leg hard with a fist. “Ow!” She rubbed the spot gingerly then noticed how badly her ankle throbbed. How was she going to get out of this? Jack had sent someone after her! Never mind that that someone was strikingly handsome – at least she’d thought so yesterday. Today she wasn’t so sure. That Mr. Judrow would deliver her to her monster of a brother, who’d marry her off faster than she’d have time to blink, definitely made him less attractive.

  Hmph! Maybe if he knew how Jack would try to control her life and everything in it … she crossed her arms over her chest and blew a wisp of hair out of her face. If it weren’t for her darn ankle she could run away. But no, she had to climb a tree yesterday and fall out of it.

  “Perfect – just perfect,” she muttered. “Let’s see you get yourself out of this mess, Emma.”

  Lucius walked onto the front porch and sat in one of the chairs provided for the stagecoach guests. He expertly tipped it back and leaned against the outer wall of the house. Now that he’d informed Miss Carlson of his intentions – of the purely unromantic variety – he probably should let Mrs. White know what he was there for. As Oscar already knew, it was only right to inform the rest of the family. Maybe they could help convince Miss Carlson to go with him, so he wouldn’t have a fight on his hands.

  He chuckled at himself. He was going to have a fight on his hands regardless. Emma Carlson would see to that. But if she put up too much of one, he’d play the ace up his sleeve – and tell the Whites her real name. As he’d told her, either she would or he would.