Page 9 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

“I t’s crowded in there,” a boy’s voice said.

For a brief second, the door behind Isaac opened wider, and the clink of dishes, along with Nick’s soft baritone and Tillie’s little-girl giggle, escaped onto the small stoop.

The door closed and the quiet returned. But he wasn’t alone.

Isaac’s shoulders tensed. He’d come out here to be by himself.

Plunked himself down on the wooden porch steps, with his plate of biscuits and gravy balanced on his knees, to let his eyes roam the paddock and drift to the mountains beyond and breathe in the crisp early-autumn air.

Light steps approached him. He caught Eli’s worn boot out of the corner of his eye. The kid needed new boots.

Not his problem.

Eli parked himself next to Isaac on the step and placed his elbows on his knees. He held a biscuit in each hand.

Doggone it.

“How come you sleep in the bunkhouse?” Eli said around a bite of biscuit. “Don’t you got a house of your own?”

Isaac ignored the curious question and shoveled another fork full of biscuits and gravy into his mouth, letting his gaze drift to Bullet, loping toward the corral fence.

He should saddle up right now, ride on out to his cabin.

With roundup behind them, the cattle they’d culled all sold, and most of the hard work at the main house done for now, he could head out.

It had been late last night when the family had arrived home from town. Isaac had expected Drew would want to talk Quade business as soon as the kids had cleared out. Drew had been in such a hurry to get home last night that no one had said a word about Clare and the boys riding home too.

Clare’s words from that first day echoed in his ears. There’s nowhere to go back to.

Not his problem.

Eli examined him watchfully, flight-ready, the way boys did when they’d endured the company of mean and unpredictable men. Cody had never worn that look. Cody had trusted Isaac from the start.

Isaac swallowed hard, forcing down both biscuits and the bitter taste of regret. Cody had paid the ultimate price for it. His throat tightened.

Eli was oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“David said you’re the fastest draw in three counties, maybe even the whole state.” Eli barely paused when Isaac didn’t answer. “My pa said Gideon Blake is the fastest in the West. Said he saw him once in Dodge City. I’d sure like to see you shoot. Maybe you could teach me?”

Isaac cast him a sideways glance and caught the challenge in the boy’s face before the kid shoved the last of one biscuit in his mouth.

“Prob’ly not true anyways. Never seen you wear pistols,” Eli muttered.

Isaac swiped the biscuit off his plate and took a bite, chewing slowly, ignoring the kid’s taunt.

Eli played with his last biscuit, passing it from one hand to the other. His head swiveled to look at Isaac again.

“You gonna marry Clare?”

Enough.

“No!” he growled. “Get outta here.”

At that moment, David banged out the door, jumped off the side of the stoop, and jogged to the barn.

Eli sent Isaac one last wary glance, shot up, and ran to catch up to David.

They met Drew riding up from the back of the barn.

Drew dismounted, stalked toward Isaac while David led his horse into the barn, yammering with Eli.

“What’s wrong with the dining room table?” Drew asked from a few yards away.

“Nothing,” Isaac said as he set his plate on the step beside him.

Drew sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. There was something in his eyes. Concern yes, but more. Fear?

“I went scouting up on the ridge. Wanted to see for myself. Spied a plow hidden behind that outcrop of boulders near the bridge.” Drew’s lips tightened into a resigned frown.

“More dirt’s been moved near the bridge.

Looks like that no-good conniving varmint really is aiming to divert our water supply. ”

“He should be behind bars,” Isaac muttered, gazing down at his calloused hands.

After five years with the Marshals, dedicated to tracking the most notorious criminals, he found himself unable to protect his own family from one unscrupulous cattleman.

He and the town marshal, Danna O’Grady, had spent hours trying to piece together evidence, to no avail.

They couldn’t prove that Quade had been behind the poisoned well or the bandit that had almost killed Rebekah.

“Quade’s wily and knows how to keep his hands clean,” Drew said.

Something was bugging Isaac. Images of dirt piles and shovels near the river surfaced in his mind, accompanied by Hyer’s ominous words. Enough dynamite to blow half the train to smithereens. Or half the ridge. Breakfast turned to stone in his gut.

“He’s not hiding what he’s doing this time,” Isaac said, his voice quiet, somber. “He doesn’t seem to care that we know he’s up to something on that ridge.”

Drew’s expression turned bleak, and Isaac saw the weight of worry in the slump of his brother’s shoulders and the lines etched around his eyes and mouth.

If Quade succeeded in taking their water, it meant their burgeoning herd would die off, crops would wither, and their entire way of life would dry up.

“I wondered why he rode John Braswell so hard to sell out. He wanted that plot of land to divert the water,” Drew said.

“Braswell didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t prove up his land in time after his barn burned.” Another crime they couldn’t pin on Quade.

“He’s not getting an inch of McGraw land. I promised Pa that I would protect the family legacy, but I don’t know what to do anymore.” Drew didn’t usually make a habit of sharing his worries. Kaitlyn had softened him.

“What will you do,” Isaac asked, “if it comes to a fight?”

“I’m praying it doesn’t come to that. Nick wants to talk to an attorney and see whether rerouting the river and cutting off our water supply can be stopped with a lawsuit. I’d planned to ride into town today, but Kaitlyn was sick all through the night. I’d like to stick close to her and home.”

Isaac stood, walked to the paddock fence, and leaned his elbows on the top rail. Drew joined him. Voices floated through the open kitchen window. Isaac was itchy. Couldn’t sit still.

Drew pushed back off the rail. Let out another long sigh, this one resigned.

“I’ll go,” Isaac said. “I’ll hunt down Frank Mecum. If he doesn’t know, I’ll push him to find out, quickly. Marshal O’Grady or Chas O’Grady might know something about water rights.”

Drew nodded. “Fine. What about Clare?”

“What about her?” Isaac snapped.

“She’s been a big help to Kaitlyn, especially since Rebekah can’t be here,” Drew said slowly.

“She can’t stay. Not when Quade can use her as a threat to us.”

Drew chewed on that for a minute. “All right. You can take her to town, put her on the train.”

* * *

“I don’t want to stay in town. I like the ranch,” Ben whined.

Clare rested an elbow on the white cotton tablecloth, her head bowed over a steaming cup of coffee, wishing they were still at the ranch too.

She forced herself to take a sip of the strong coffee and scorched her tongue.

In her hurry to set the cup down, some of the brown liquid spilled onto the tablecloth.

She quickly blotted it with her napkin. Now both the napkin and the tablecloth were stained.

She felt exposed sitting here at the hotel restaurant. This was different from the picnic while she’d been with the McGraws. She was right back where she’d started.

“I want to go back with Jo and Tillie,” Ben insisted, his tone rising in pitch.

“We can’t go back to the ranch,” Eli stated.

Throughout the journey to town, he had been mostly silent and taciturn, with only a muttered “Good, we can go back home” when they’d climbed into the wagon.

Isaac had been tight-lipped and brooding too.

He’d promised to come back to the restaurant after he’d handled his business at the lawyer’s office.

The brown stains on the tablecloth mocked her. Maybe he wouldn’t return, and they’d be left to fend for themselves. All her high hopes had crumbled. She prided herself on her warm demeanor and charm, but Isaac had stayed out of reach, avoiding any real conversation.

“Yes, we can.” Ben’s face scrunched, his eyes filling with tears. “Jo said?—”

“You don’t know anything. Shut your trap.” Eli lambasted poor Ben, the acid in his voice so like his father’s it rocked Clare. She put a hand on Eli’s forearm and squeezed. When he met her eyes, she knitted her brows and formed a silent shh as the waitress approached.

She would have to get a job. Her mind ran through the limited options she and Kaitlyn had discussed.

School teacher was out. She didn’t have a formal education, although Anne had taught her to read and do simple sums. A seamstress?

She could darn socks and repair tears, but that was the extent of her skill with a needle.

Laundress seemed to be her only option. She would ask the waitress if the hotel was hiring.

But where would they stay? A rented room?

Even that felt too exposed. Anyone asking questions in town—asking for a woman and two boys—could easily track them down.

The waitress, a buxom woman with ginger hair and a no-nonsense way of serving, had introduced herself as Pearl. She removed an empty soup bowl one table over and stopped at Clare’s table.

“Y’all want pie? Peach pie with fresh whipped cream today. I know for a fact that it’s one of Marshal McGraw’s favorites. Is he coming round here when his business is done?”

Ben’s eyes widened. At the mention of Isaac’s former job or the pie, Clare wasn’t sure. Eli’s gaze remained on his plate, but his face went pasty.

“We will take one piece of pie. Thank you, Pearl.” Clare threaded her fingers under the table. “I’m wondering if by any chance the hotel is hiring—a laundress or someone to work in the kitchen?”

Pearl tilted her head and pursed her lips. Clare’s cheeks heated.

“I don’t think so, dear. I’ll just see about that pie.” She bustled off.