Always, Ransom (Three Rivers Express Book 1)

by Reina Torres

  Ransom mirrored the movement and stepped inside the barn.

  “It’s about time.” He waved Ransom over and moved to the side to give Ransom some room beside him. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

  “Levi needed a word before we left the church.” He turned to look at Miss Burroughs and saw her watching him. “Mrs. Hawkins sent me out here.”

  Anna rose up on the toes of her boots and fairly bounced with excitement. “I told Delia that we had some of the prettiest Morgan ponies and Mama said to take her out and show her, but Mama said to let you boys do the talking so I don’t run right over Delia with talking about the ponies.” When Anna finally got around to taking a breath, Ransom saw her look at each of them in turn and blushed to the roots of her hair. “See?”

  Wyeth reached out and gave one of Anna’s braids a gentle tug. “No problem, lil’ miss.” He leaned on the stall beside him and the horse in the stall leaned closer to nip at his hair. “I’ve already introduced Miss Burroughs to Sand, here,” he reached out and set a hand on the horse’s neck and brushed his fingers through the dark mane of the red dun mare. “And even though I was ready to move on, our girl here didn’t want me to.”

  The mare turned in the stall and leaned her neck against Wyeth’s hand, nickering as if she was agreeing with him.

  Wyeth looked at Ransom. “You should go on while I keep her from getting jealous of the attention.” Leaning his head toward the next stall, he kept his hand on the mare’s neck, scratching his way up toward her ears. To hear the mare, she was certainly enjoying the attention.

  Ransom found himself leading the young ladies to the next stall and introducing them to Clay’s Indian Paint pony Spirit and continued on to the Brown Bay they called Chicory, and the Black they called Fletch. He stepped back to move along the row, but Delia set her hand on the stall wall a scant inch from his hand and he stumbled a bit.

  He felt a warm touch on his back and found his feet. “Sorry about that.”

  Anna giggled and moved forward to take his arm. “You almost fell.”

  Ransom struggled to smile even if he wanted to look away and hide his embarrassment from both of the ladies. “I should look where I’m going. That would help.”

  Delia was suddenly at his other shoulder, her skirts sweeping up against his leg. “Is this one yours?” She reached out a hand and smoothed her hand over the warm golden coat of the gelding. “He certainly seems to like you.”

  He smelled the soft scent of flowers in the air and struggled to put his words together in the face of that distraction. “Hmm? I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

  “Don’t worry, Miss,” Wyeth gave Ransom a nudge with his shoulder, “this happens from time to time with Ransom.” He set his arm on the stall behind his friend and gave him a smile. “He’s quiet, more than me at least, but when he does get all of his words in a line, stand back.” He chuckled and Ransom tried to join in, but he wasn’t quite sure he liked being the joke. “But there are few men here, besides Ransom and Levi, that have quite the same way with the horses.”

  Ransom saw a spark of a smile in Delia’s eyes and stood a little taller in her presence.

  “I was raised around horses.”

  Anna latched onto the quiet statement and bobbed her head in enthusiastic agreement. “Delia’s brother, James, said she’s a better rider than any of her brothers.” Deciding to add on to her statement, Anna continued on in a rush. “And she has four brothers! Four!”

  Now it was Delia’s turn to blush, and what a becoming color it was that rose in her cheeks. Ransom struggled to focus on her face, attempting to commit her prepossessing looks to his memory. She set her hand on Anna’s shoulder and drew the younger woman closer to press a kiss on her temple. “James only said that because he wanted me to exercise the horses for him. He didn’t mind gentling them, but riding them about was boring to him.” She turned and met Ransom’s eyes for a moment before she turned back to the horse, her gaze following her hand as it smoothed over his golden coat. “I would wager that this handsome boy loves to run.”

  Ransom grinned at the assessment. “You’d be right.” He reached up with both hands and traced the long length of the horse’s face. “When the sun slants across the ground in the morning and Jackson’s out and we’re taking him through his paces,” he smiled at the Dun, “he looks like gold flashing in a pan. If it wasn’t for his mane, tail, and those long dark legs of his against the pale dirt, he’d almost disappear into the sunlight.”

  Delia sighed at the words. “I would love to see that someday. You’d put on a good show, wouldn’t you, boy?”

  The gelding leaned into her touch and Ransom found himself envious of the horse when Delia combed her fingers through Jackson’s mane. “Then we’ll have to find a way to make that happen, Miss Burroughs.”

  Her gaze flickered to him, her eyes wide with pleasure before she turned back toward the horse.

  Ransom saw the gentle play of a smile across her lips and longed to see it again.

  “Perhaps you’ll bring Jackson when you have a morning run? I’ll likely be there to help with the riders when they come through the swing station.”

  “Well, if the lady would like to see your horse, Ransom,” Wyeth gave his friend a nudge with his elbow, “you shouldn’t disappoint her.”

  Anna looked back and forth between the three people surrounding her. “When did she say she wanted to see the horse?” She looked at Wyeth. “She asked Ransom to bring Jackson ‘with’ him.” Setting her hands on her hips, Anna shook her head. “Boys. You just don’t listen.”

  Wyeth stared at the young woman. “Goodness,” he laughed, “you sound just like your mother.”

  Delia grinned and looked at Anna with a loving smile.

  And Anna lifted her head and gave them all a bright grin. “Well, Mr. Boyles,” her tone had moved a little down the scale and was a near perfect imitation of Olivia’s sweet tones, “I believe that is the nicest thing you said to me today.”

  He leaned closer and his hand snaked over her shoulder to tug on a braid. “Don’t get used to it.”

  Her mouth dropped open in shock, but before she could find the words to answer him back, someone darted into the barn.

  “Mrs. Hawkins said it’s time to wash up before supper. Time to come on inside.”

  Anna turned on her heel to face the new addition. With a knowing look at Delia she nodded at the man in the doorway. “That’s Luke.”

  Ransom watched as Luke took a few steps inside to meet Delia near the door, his hand extended to take hers in a polite greeting.

  “Luke Cavendish, miss.”

  Anna continued on with the introductions and ended with, “Clayton Adams, but the only one that calls him Clayton is Papa.”

  “Most call me Clay,” he shrugged and offered Delia one arm and Anna the other. “Ladies?”

  Wyeth chuckled and gave a little bow toward Ransom. “Mr. McCain, would you like my arm?”

  Ransom shook his head and started for the house. A few steps away and he felt an arm slide through his, a hand hooking at his elbow. He looked down in surprise and saw Anna’s impish grin smiling up at him. “I’ll go in with you, Ransom.” She looked back at Luke with her nose in the air. “Ransom’s handsomer than you.” She turned to Delia next. “Don’t you think so?”

  Luke saved Delia from answering with a cough and a wink. “Oh, you’ll have no argument from me there, Miss Anna. I’ve had my fair share of run ins with a door or two in my time.”

  Wyeth dashed on ahead, jumping up to the porch with a hop instead of taking each step in turn. “You mean you’ve run into a fist or two in your youth.”

  Delia laughed quietly at Luke’s long suffering look and joined in when Anna’s gasp turned into a peel of laughter.

  “Oh, Delia!”

  Pausing on the porch, Delia waited for Luke to open the door, turning back to look at Anna as the younger woman walked up on Ransom’s arm.

  “I’m so glad you ca
me to visit. If it had just been me, the boys would never have put so much effort in to making me laugh.”

  Luke pulled the door open and stepped back to make room. And Ransom stepped aside as Anna pulled free of his arm to take Delia’s a moment later.

  The ladies disappeared inside, leaving Ransom and Luke standing in their wake. Luke stared through the screen door and whistled under his breath. “Goodness,” he chuckled, “I’m beginning to really like it here.” Luke opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Ransom to grab it before it banged closed.

  Ransom caught it easily, but he also caught himself. He wanted to dash inside and jockey for a seat near Delia at the table, but he held himself back. She was a guest of the Hawkins family and a fine woman who deserved so much more than a man with a dangerous job and no guarantee of long term employment. She deserved so much more than him.

  So, he would be polite. He would be a gentleman. Everything that he was brought up to be by his aunt and what Levi and Olivia would expect from him, but he wouldn’t allow himself to let their interaction go any deeper than that. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair.

  Chapter 3

  Supper had been a pleasure for Delia. Anna barely managed to eat her food, spending most of her time at the table talking to the people around her. Conversation had darted around the table and for Delia it brought back a number of memories from her family. Before her brothers had moved away, finding their own paths for their own lives, their table had been like that one. Random bursts of laughter and spates of arguments. And Olivia, like her mother, handled it all with a smile and a knowing look.

  Her father and Levi had spent much of their evening carrying on a quiet conversation at the other end of the table, but there had been more than enough to keep Delia busy. And thanks to Olivia for packing up some of her biscuits and cured ham to take home, Delia had that to tuck into when her father had pulled the wagon over outside of Bender’s Saloon.

  His logic made sense. When they lived in town, her father had spent quite a few evenings seated at one of Mr. Bender’s tables. But it had also been those nights, and the nights he’d spent drinking at home, bottles of rotgut whiskey taken from the back of cupboard, that had lost him the job at the Stage Depot in Three Rivers.

  So even with the chill in the air, something she hadn’t prepared to weather, she sat outside the saloon on a bench, taking glances off and on through the window at the clock on the back wall. The glass was smudged or coated in dirt, making it hard to see which hand was the long and which was the short. But there was little else to do but wait until her father had had his fill of conversation and sadly, drink.

  A stiff wind blew down the street of Three Rivers chilling her through to the bone.

  Delia struggled to hold her shawl about her shoulders. Even with her gloves on she could feel the tips of her fingers tingling with cold. The tinny piano inside Bender’s Saloon sounded loud enough to rattle the windows behind her and she huddled on the chair, hoping that her father would soon be ready to go home. Lifting her gaze to the sky, she saw the moon climbing into the dark night sky. With a sigh, she said her silent thanks that the moon would be able to light their way home.

  Movement across the road caught her eye and she sucked in a breath, waiting to see just what was stirring the shadows. There were few things out and about at night that were safe for a woman to be around, and with her luck of late, she didn't believe her luck would help her in this matter. She hoped that it was as difficult to see her as it was to see him in the long shadows of the night.

  “Miss? Are you all right?”

  Human then. And with manners. Delia let out her breath.

  “I'm fine, thank you.”

  A pause and she resumed breathing because it seemed a prudent thing to do.

  “It’s late, miss.”

  Nervous laughter shook her shoulders, warming her a little. “I am well aware of that.”

  Footsteps, heard rather than seen, started across the road.

  “Are you lost?”

  “Merely waiting.” She tried to keep her voice even, but her nerves shook her tone as she sat upright and set her hands on her knees, which even under layers of fabric, could still be felt quaking. For a moment, she considered getting up from her chair and going inside Bender’s Saloon to sit beside her father. The mortification that she would suffer was one thing that gave her pause, the other was the light in which folks would see her if they found out.

  There were things worse than a ruined reputation, but Delia hoped she wouldn't have to experience those things for herself.

  And that's when she saw him. He was little more than a silhouette at first, stepping clear of the slanted shadows of the buildings and into the pale expanse of the road.

  His steps were measured, easy and calm, as he made his way to the middle of the road.

  She rose from her chair, determined to meet him on her feet. At the best, he would know she was strong and ready to meet the challenge, and at the worst she would have the ability to run on her side.

  “Miss Burroughs?”

  Relief rushed through her and nearly buckled her knees. “Mister McCain?”

  Free of the fear that had been thrumming through her veins, she could make out more of his features once he swept his hat from his head. With a sigh, she sat back down on the chair. Exhaustion and relief had made it impossible for her to remain on her feet.

  “I'm so glad it was you. I barely know half of the men that were in town for the meeting.”

  He moved closer, stopping at the edge of the porch, his hat in his hands.

  “That's why I'm out walking, Miss.”

  She couldn't help but smile at the earnest tone of his voice. “Are you a deputy as well as a rider? That's quite a lot of responsibility on your shoulders.”

  “I don't mind helping,” his answer was immediate and she heard the ring of truth in them as clear as bell. “We don't have any law around here full time.” He turned slightly and waved his hat off behind the Saloon. “When we’ve a need, folks send off for-”

  “Captain Merrick, yes, I know.” She took another step forward and lined the toes of her boots at the edge of the porch. “I used to live here.”

  “Oh, yes,” he looked back down at his hat in his hands. “Sorry.”

  “Please, don't be,” she cleared her throat, fighting back the frustration that stuck in her throat. “We left more than a year ago. Spent some time moving about before we had word from Levi that my father could run the swing station just outside of town.”

  “I’ll be passing through there regularly.”

  “Then it looks like I’ll see you again.” She smiled and felt her hand smooth her skirt in a nervous gesture. “At least for the few seconds it takes to change mounts and move along the route.”

  “Maybe more,” Ransom found himself looking for ways to extend their conversation, such as it was, “I might find myself tripping over my own feet and make a mess of it.”

  “Our station is a simple one. You’ll see when you get there, Mister McCain,” she laughed, “there's very little to look at beyond the house and the barn. If you stay longer than a moment. you may be bored to tears.”

  “Well, I could think of a reason to stay,” Ransom put a boot on the bottom step of the saloon and reached for the railing, but stopped short when the front door of the saloon banged open and an overly bright voice followed right behind.

  “Closing time, Frank.” Joseph Bender, bartender and bouncer in one, had her father by the back of his shirt. “It's been good seeing you again, but even I need a few hours of sleep before the sun rises.”

  And even though Joseph was doing such a nice job of steering his old friend toward the door, Frank wasn't going to make it easy for him, digging in his heels. “How about a bottle for the road?”

  Her cheeks burning with shame, Delia moved to her father’s side. “It's time to go home, Pa.”

  “Plenty of moonlight left, sweetheart.” He gave her a winsome smile
. “You've got a good hand with the horse. I just need one more drink to warm me up for the ride home.”

  Delia heard the soft tread of footsteps on the stairs and felt a strong presence at her side.

  “Mr. Burroughs,” her cheeks blazed with color at the sound of Ransom’s voice, “your daughter should be home. It’s cold and you’ve quite a ways to go-”

  “My daughter,” the older man punctuated the word with a narrowed look, “is a grown woman.”

  “Yes, Pa.” She moved forward, putting some distance between herself and Ransom, his warmth and his gentle strength, made her feel all the more unsettled. Taking her father’s arm, she held on when he tried to pull away. “I am, and I would like to go home. The horses-”

  That sparked some kind of reaction from her father, clarity returned to his eyes and he straightened a bit, grabbing at the fronts of his coat and tugging them together. “Of course, the horses, Del. We’ll be home in time for that.” He yanked his arm away and this time, he succeeded in pulling away. “Some nerve questioning your father.”

  She heard the bite in his words, but she was ready for it. She’d heard the same snap over and over during the last few years, building up a shell that she thought was strong enough to withstand his pointed jabs. He was a fine man when he wasn’t filling his belly with drink. “I’m sorry, Pa. It’s been a long day.”

  He set his arm down heavy over her shoulders. “You should have stayed home then, hmm? Then you’d be safe abed instead of pokin’ at my temper.” With a heaving sigh he gave Joseph some kind of a wave. “Don’t know when I’ll be back, old friend.”

  Joseph’s smile was broad and knowing. “I’ll always have a chair for you, Frank, you know that.”

  Nodding, Delia’s father turned to take a step and nearly fell to his knees.

  “Oh!” She heard her voice rather than feeling it escape past her lips. Her mind was focused on staying on her feet.

  “Here, let me.” She felt his help before she was able to see him. The weight on her shoulders eased up and her knees relaxed as her father’s weight shifted away from her. And when they reached the ground, putting the few steps behind them, she managed to look across her father’s lowered head and saw Ransom’s face. She had feared that she would see some kind of condemnation in his eyes, or a hard-set mouth. But as they reached the side of the wagon, the moonlight shone across the planes of his face and she nearly tripped over her own feet. She saw concern. She saw worry. And as they found themselves at the back of the wagon, taking a moment to catch their breaths, Delia saw him look up and meet her eyes.