“Are you feeling better now?” he asked Hannah after Archie said the blessing.
She nodded. “Much, thanks. My ankle still hurts but I can wiggle my toes and it holds my weight even if it does hurt like blazes, so I’m pretty sure it’s not broken. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a day or two.”
Kirby wasn’t so sure she wasn’t oversimplifying her injury, but she seemed like the kind of woman who wouldn’t take kindly to his opinion. So he kept quiet.
“What happened to the berries?” Hannah asked Florence between bites of her stew. “I picked two buckets of wild raspberries.”
Florence shook her head. “I’m sorry. They were mostly juice by the time Dixie got back here.”
Disappointment clouded Hannah’s eyes. “I was hoping to sell some of them to Mr. Todd.”
“There will be more berries to pick once the weather clears.”
“That’s true. I just hope I’ll have time to order the artists’ kit I want from the catalogue and get it before fall.”
Kirby was intrigued. “You’re an artist?”
She nodded, and before she had a chance to answer, Florence spoke up. “Hannah got all the artistic talent in the family. Her paintings are wonderful, and they even did a story about her in The Rocky Mountain News.”
Kirby was impressed. It was unusual for a newspaper to feature a woman in an article. “I’d like to see some of your work.”
Hannah’s face flushed with color, as if she was embarrassed. She lowered her head and took a sip from the water glass in front of her. “It’s not that good.”
“Nonsense. You’re far too modest,” Archie contradicted, pointing to two paintings on the wall near the fireplace. “Hannah painted those.”
“Do you mind?” Kirby asked, making a move to rise from the table to take a closer look at the two portraits.
Hannah shrugged, but it was enough for him. He quickly got up and crossed to take a closer look at the portrait of Tommy and another child with the same reddish-blonde hair as Florence. “They’re beautiful,” he commented. “I assume this is Tommy’s sister,” he added, pointing to the toddler in the painting.
Florence chuckled. “Yes, that’s Libibie. She’s asleep now. You’ll meet her in the morning and I guarantee you’ll be exhausted within an hour.”
Kirby laughed, then rejoined them at the table. “You aren’t the law in Rocky Ridge, Marshal,” Archie said when he’d settled back in his chair and was finishing his meal “What brings you out this way?”
“That’s right.” Kirby mopped up the last of the gravy with a biscuit and popped it into his mouth. After he swallowed, he continued. “I’m a US marshal in Cedar Valley. I’m on my way to Denver to testify at a trial.”
Archie’s brows lifted, but that wasn’t what caught Kirby’s attention. The half-smile on Hannah’s face disappeared.
“Then you’ll return to Cedar Valley?” Florence asked.
Kirby shook his head. “Not right away. The accused man, Abel Cooper, is one of a gang of outlaws who’ve been robbing banks, mostly in Kansas and Wyoming Territory. A few weeks ago, they robbed the bank in Cedar Valley. Abel’s brother, Jubel, got killed during the robbery, but not before he killed two women who happened to be in the bank at the time. His other brother, Owen, escaped as well as two other members of the gang.”
“I heard about that,” Archie said.
“Abel got caught near Denver when a bank teller who’d worked in a bank in Kansas happened to see him in a shop in Denver. Two are dead, but Owen is still out there. Once the trial is over, I’m going after him and taking him in.”
Kirby noticed that Hannah’s bright eyes narrowed slightly and she seemed to stiffen as he was talking. She was obviously upset.
“Your family doesn’t mind you being gone so much?” Florence asked.
Kirby’s chest clenched as it always did when he thought about his family. “Don’t have much family left, ma’am,” he replied. “Just my brother and his wife and daughters. The rest of my family is gone now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been on my own for a long time,” he commented. “But it’s me who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t be talking about outlaws and robbing and killing at the supper table with ladies present.”
Florence got up and began to clear the plates. “Oh, please don’t apologize, Marshal. It’s good to have company and hear about what’s going on in the rest of the world. Now, who would like a piece of pie?”
Hannah rose and gripped the cane that had been resting against the table. “No, thanks. I’m going upstairs. Goodnight, everyone.”
Kirby watched her walk away, her lips pressed tightly together, the determination in her eyes. She was limping badly, but he let her go. He’d obviously said or did something that had upset her. He only wished he knew what it was.
Chapter 3
Dawn barely lit Hannah’s bedroom when she woke the next morning, but at least the rain pounding on the roof had stopped at some point during the night. At times, it had sounded as if the roof was about to cave in on top of her.
She lifted her arms out from beneath the patchwork quilt on her bed and examined her arms. The scratches and scrapes were still red and sore, but the smaller ones already seemed to be healing. Of course, it was early yet, she told herself. It was still possible that infection could set in.
Tucking them back under the quilt, she tugged the quilt around her neck and snuggled lower until she warmed up. She’d like to stay here all day, she thought, but she couldn’t. She had responsibilities, and one thing Hannah prided herself on was that she never shirked her responsibilities.
She had to get to Silver City to finish the painting she’d been commissioned to do. She estimated it would only take two or three more days to put the finishing touches to it and she was running out of time. Her client, Millicent Grover, was paying her well to recreate her mother’s childhood home. The painting was a birthday gift for Mrs. Grover’s mother and had to be finished before the party Mrs. Grover was hosting the next weekend. If she didn’t finish the painting this week, there wouldn’t be time to have it framed and wrapped before the party.
Every muscle in Hannah’s body protested when she tried to climb out of bed. How was it possible to feel even worse today than she had the evening before?
She shivered as she hobbled to the window. Pulling back the curtain, she looked outside. There wasn’t even a sliver of sunshine in the clouds anywhere, and the yard was a sea of mud and puddles. Riding to Silver City would be unpleasantly cold and damp, and by the look of the sky, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t get caught in another storm.
But at least it wasn’t raining right now, she thought as she washed herself and put on a blue cotton shirtwaist. She wrapped a matching shawl around her shoulders and picked up the carpetbag she’d packed the night before.
The aroma of frying bacon reached her nose when she opened her bedroom door. Her stomach rumbled and she realized she was hungry. Even though she’d eaten supper the evening before, having Kirby Matheson sitting right across from her had done something to her insides. For some reason she couldn’t explain, his presence had affected her to the point she’d lost her appetite.
Laughter coming from behind a closed door caught Hannah’s attention. Tommy and Libbie were playing inside their bedroom. For a moment, she was tempted to open the door, but decided against it. Better to leave well enough alone, she thought, a smile creeping across her lips.
She hobbled down the stairs, her ankle throbbing with each step. Still, it wasn’t quite as painful as the day before, so she was thankful for that. She paused for a moment in front of the fireplace in the main room to warm up before heading into the kitchen.
Florence was alone, and Hannah couldn’t help wondering if the marshal had already left. She wouldn’t ask, though. Florence would think she was interested in the man. Which she wasn’t, she told herself. “I’ll do the eggs,” she offered, taking a bowl off a shelf near the stove.
“Better make extra,” Florence said as Hannah cracked eggs into a bowl. “The marshal is out helping Archie with chores.”
Well, Hannah thought, that answered the question she’d been pondering. He was still there, still so handsome, and likely still affecting her more than she liked to admit. And he obviously wasn’t the type of man who’d sit and let others wait on him. Another point in his favor, she supposed. If she cared, which she didn’t.
She’d seriously considered waiting another day before riding to Silver City, but the sooner she got away from Kirby, the better. “I’ll be leaving for Silver City right after breakfast,” she said.
Florence looked up from keeping an eye on the bacon in the skillet. “Are you sure that’s wise? You’re hurt, and the weather—”
“I don’t need my ankle to paint,” Hannah replied with a smile. “And the weather might not clear for days. I made a commitment to Mrs. Grover. I don’t want to let her down.”
“I understand that, but—”
Hannah crossed to the stove and wrapped an arm around Florence’s shoulders. “I know you worry, but honestly, I’m fine, Florence. Really. I am.”
Florence gave her a faint smile and nodded. Hannah returned to the worktable and picked up a fork, whisking the eggs until they were light and frothy.
Just then, the door opened and Archie walked in, a load of firewood cradled in his arms. Kirby followed, carrying two buckets of water. While Archie took the firewood and stacked it in the hod beside the fireplace, Kirby brought the water buckets into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Hannah,” he said, giving her a smile that made her nerve endings tingle. “How’s the ankle this morning?”
Hannah tamped down the urge to return his smile. “It’s fine,” she replied shortly, not happy with how his presence affected her. Then, remembering her manners, muttered, “Thank you for asking.”
“That’s good to hear.” Turning to Florence, he said, “I’m happy to pour this into a pot for you. It’s heavy.”
Florence beamed. “Why, thank you, Marshal. The pot’s right over there.”
Hannah couldn’t help watching him as he crossed the kitchen, her gaze sliding to his corded forearms lifting the buckets of water with seemingly no effort at all. His dark hair curled against the collar of his shirt. The thought that she’d love to see what it felt like to run her fingers through that hair popped into her mind.
Furious with herself, she beat the eggs even harder.
“Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” Florence told him. “That is, if Hannah ever stops whipping the eggs and cooks them,” she added with a chuckle.
Hannah gave her sister a murderous look, but crossed to the stove and poured the eggs into another skillet.
Yes, Hannah thought, all she had to do was suffer through breakfast and then she’d be rid of the marshal forever.
Prickly female, Kirby thought a few minutes later when they were all seated at the table. He’d first noticed it when he’d asked about her ankle. People were often a bit short-tempered when they were hurt. Kirby knew that. Still, he sensed it was more than just discomfort from her injuries. What annoyed him more was that he cared why she was suddenly being so unfriendly.
“I should be back by Tuesday at the latest,” he heard Hannah say. “It should only take a few days to finish up.”
“I still think you should wait,” Florence put in, “especially right now. You’ve been hurt and you shouldn’t be going off by yourself.”
Hannah shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to wait and then have to rush to finish and not do the best job I possibly can. Besides, I’ve ridden to Silver City a hundred times by myself.”
Kirby was pretty sure that was an exaggeration and she was only trying to make her point.
“Wait a minute.” Florence’s eyes brightened. “The marshal—”.
“Leave her be, Florence,” Archie admonished. “She’s a grown woman. She knows how you feel about her going all that way alone but it’s her decision.”
Florence sighed, then reached over and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “I’ll miss you, but knowing I probably wouldn’t be able to change your mind, I packed you some lunch.”
“Where you goin’, Auntie Hannah?” Tommy looked up at Hannah. A milk mustache covered his upper lip.
Kirby had been wondering that himself.
“Silver City,” Hannah replied. “But I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll finish that book we started reading the other night.”
Tommy jerked his head in Kirby’s direction. “You going with him?”
“No. I’m going alone.” She drained her coffee and stood up. “And I’d better get started so I get there before dark.”
Kirby couldn’t stop himself. “I’d be happy to go with you, in case you run into any trouble,” he heard himself say. “I’m heading to Denver anyway. I have to go right past Silver City on the way.”
She turned to face him. “I prefer to travel alone.”
“Your ankle—”
“Will be fine,” she insisted. “I don’t need anyone to look after me.”
Florence got up and crossed to the counter that ran the length of the kitchen. “If the marshal is going in the same direction, wouldn’t it be nice to have a little company?”
“No. It wouldn’t.” She stared at Kirby, her dark blue eyes daring him to protest.
It seemed Hannah Blakely was a fiercely independent woman, Kirby thought as she gave him a curt farewell nod and picked up the sack of food her sister had prepared for her. Then she said goodbye to her family and hurried out.
By early afternoon, Hannah was sorry she hadn’t waited an extra day. Her body ached, and she realized it was going to take longer to reach Silver City than it usually did.
Although it wasn’t raining and a watery sun was doing its best to shine through the clouds, the air was damp, seeping through her clothes to thoroughly chill her. Parts of the trail had dried, leaving ruts where riders and wagons had gone before.
Hannah was afraid to let Dixie move at more than a walk because of the uneven ground, and she estimated it would be dark by the time she reached the outskirts of Silver City at the rate she was going.
She’d stopped in a clearing off the trail where the river was shallow to eat lunch and let Dixie rest and get her fill of water. As she was packing her saddlebags, she heard what sounded like hoofbeats.
Her heart skittered behind her ribs. She wasn’t afraid, well, not really. Still, she was well aware she was a woman alone in the wilderness. She wasn’t sure the unseen rider was heading toward her, but just in case, she picked up the rifle she’d leaned against a tree when she’d dismounted.
She aimed the rifle toward the sound. Her body grew tense. Her breaths shortened. The hoofbeats grew louder. The leaves on the trees rustled and moments later, the horse and rider came into view.
Kirby Matheson!
“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. “Do you realize I could have blown your head off?”
He had the audacity to smile. “I gave you credit for at least waiting to see who it was before you pulled the trigger.”
“I still could,” she pointed out, but lowered the rifle to her side.
“I suppose that’s true.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” she said. “Why are you here? Are you following me?”
He shook his head. “I told you I was headed to Denver, but I’m stopping to visit my brother and his family on the way. This is a good spot for a rest. Did you think you were the only one who knew about this place?”
Of course he’d be taking the same trail, Hannah thought. He’d mentioned that at breakfast, and it was the most direct route between the Circle J and Denver. “Well … no. I just didn’t expect to see you again, that’s all.”
He dismounted and took his horse’s reins, guiding him down to the riverbank. “That’s why I offered to go with you,” he said. “How are you
holding up?”
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for hours. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He gave her a look that told her he didn’t believe her, but he had the good sense not to comment. “No reason. Just thought after your tumble yesterday you might have some aches and pains.”
She turned away and continued to pack the saddlebags with the wrappings from her lunch. When she was finished, she put her good foot in the stirrup. The thought of another few hours of riding made her feel like crying, but she had no choice at this point. “I’d better be moving along, otherwise I won’t get to Silver City today.”
“Wait a minute,” Kirby called out from behind her.
She turned to see him coming toward her. He stopped a few feet away. “Look, I don’t know what I did to upset you so much, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything—” she began.
“Then why are you so hellbent on travelling by yourself?” he asked. “Surely you know that it’s safer – and the time passes a lot quicker – with company. I’d like to get to know you better.”
She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to travel with him because she was finding him far too handsome, too kind, too … everything. She couldn’t tell him she’d like to get to know him better, too, if only he wasn’t a lawman.
She knew what caring about a lawman could do to a person.
“Let’s ride together,” he said. The tone of his voice sent a ripple of awareness through her. She couldn’t say no.
“Well … all right,” she agreed. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
Physically, it couldn’t hurt. Emotionally … well, that remained to be seen, but as long as she didn’t let herself like him too much, she’d be fine.
They rode in silence for a while, but as the afternoon wore on, Kirby started asking her about her art, figuring she’d be more likely to talk about that than anything really personal. “When did you realize you could draw?” he asked.
She looked over at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t draw. Whether it was good or not, I can’t say.”
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