Page 23

“I’m not sure.” Mrs. Wilson hesitated. Her eyes darted around the room.

The counter filled the wall across from the large window, the space in between just waiting for several sets of table and chairs.

“I can’t hold off on serving customers because the furniture’s late.

Can you guarantee a delivery date this time? ”

“I can’t give you that. I’m still helping my brother run the ranch.” Everything in him ached at having to say it. Isaac hadn’t come off the mountain, and there was too much work to think of asking Drew for a break.

The woman rubbed her hand along the piece again. Stepping back, one of her children ran up to pull at her skirt.

“I’m very busy. I hope to be open by the end of July.” She bit her lip, then bent to pick up the fussing toddler. Her mouth pulled in an apologetic sort of grin. “I’m not sure I can wait if you can’t guarantee delivery. No matter how beautiful your craftsmanship.”

He nodded, throat hot. He’d known what the consequences would likely be for not delivering on time. It couldn’t be helped.

Ed walked back to his waiting wagon with the heaviness weighing hard on him.

Back at the homestead, they needed to get ready to bring in the crops.

Drew was trying to keep a vigilant watch on the land, rotating night duty with Ed and Nick.

The extra work was wearing everyone down.

Drew had been on edge this morning when Ed had pressed to come to town for the delivery.

He should be rushing home, but he lingered near the wagon.

Couldn’t help looking down the street toward the newspaper office.

Rebekah’s smile had grown to be a balm for him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the last letter he’d written.

The one she hadn’t answered. Instead, she’d come looking for Isaac.

The hurt from seeing her might break him.

A movement outside the marshal’s office grabbed his attention.

Rebekah stood at the marshal’s door, easing it shut as if in slow motion.

When she turned, he caught her haggard expression.

Her hair had come loose in more than one place, clinging to her neck as she ran a hand along the crinkles in her usually neat skirt.

He watched her traipse down the street, though she didn’t seem to see him.

Saw her bite her lip. Saw her jump like she was frightened.

Something was wrong.

His feet carried him to her before he’d thought it through.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Ed.” The relief in her voice created a thrum of protectiveness inside him.

“You all right?”

“I’m fine.” She studied his face, then dropped her eyes to her hands.

He should take a step back, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move.

Her hand fisted in her skirt.

“Marshal O’Grady isn’t there. Or her deputies.” She acted indignant. Or scared?

Hadn’t he passed the marshal on his way into town? His pulse upped a beat. “What do you need the marshal for?”

“You were right.” Her mouth trembled, just slightly. “I went to interview the last candidate.”

“Alone?” He bit down on his back teeth. If only she’d told him. He shifted his eyes to take in a passerby, then took her arm to stroll down the boardwalk toward the newspaper office.

“He’d been attacked.” Her voice lowered as a woman passed by on their side of the boardwalk.

His pulse quickened. She’d put herself in danger. This was what he’d warned her about a hundred times.

“Exactly why you should have taken me.” He leaned closer to his left side, where Rebekah walked, to speak the words through half-clenched teeth. All while smiling at the milliner as they passed her store. This couldn’t happen again.

“I think I know who it is—the bandit.” She gripped Ed’s arm as she whispered out the words in a hurry. “The man had a tattoo. I saw him on Quade’s ranch while we were there, doing the interview. Not his face, but I saw the tattoo. Did you see the man?”

“No.” He’d known it all along. This was proof Quade was in on it.

“If I print the story with the description of the tattoo, then someone will surely come forward to identify this man.”

“Did he see you?” When her brows crinkled in confusion, he went on. “The bandit. At Quade’s place.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Some of the tightness in his chest eased. Maybe things would be all right. Quade didn’t know that she’d put together the identity of his hired man.

“Let me give you a ride home,” he said.

She glanced at him, clearly confused by his suggestion.

“I’m—it’s my day in town.” She gestured to the office.

“Mr. Sullivan is counting on me to arrange the typeset and print the paper while he’s gone.

His daughter is still ill. I have to do all I can to help keep the paper afloat.

A big story means paper sales. And I still need to speak to Marshal O’Grady.

I’ll have to write up a detailed description… ”

“Rebekah, you can’t.” Desperation leaked out in his voice. She couldn’t be serious. Quade had no mercy. He’d almost killed Jo. Tillie.

This time, when her gaze met his, he saw the determination. Maybe even a hint of excitement shining in the depths of her eyes. “The truth needs to be printed. I have to, Ed, you know that.”

He didn’t know anything. He pulled her close, not caring that they were out in public, clearly visible on the boardwalk. Instinct told him to pull her closer.

Her lips parted, and he took his chance.

He leaned all the way in and his lips were there, on hers.

His hand clutched her shoulder as he pressed in.

She responded to his kiss, and he let his grip loosen.

His hands moved down her arm, relishing the softness of her hands as he clasped them.

She smelled of honeysuckle and roses. His mind became shrouded in a fog of Rebekah.

He didn’t want to pull back. How had he managed to be here to start with?

Breathing ragged, he pulled away far enough to get a look at her face. Her eyes were wide and searching. And then she lowered her eyes, her lashes hiding her from him.

I’ve explained everything in a letter to Isaac . Her words from the last time he’d seen her blasted him, making his face flame.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done that.” He stepped back, releasing her hands. At his sides, his hands flexed. He wanted to reach for her again, search her face for an answer. If he’d ever wanted her to argue with him, this was it.

Rebekah never wavered. She always knew what she wanted.

One hand came up to brush her cheek. Her brows flickered low. “Ed, I?—”

Disappointment settled deep inside him. “I’ll come in to fetch you tomorrow.”

When she raised her chin, lips parted to protest, he shook his head tightly. “I have to keep my promise to your uncle.”

He turned away, walking toward the wagon without really seeing any of his surroundings. And she didn’t call him back.