Page 8 of Love and Order

CHAPTER 8

Once the service ended, Orion was quick to scramble to his feet, and Callie bolted up after him.

“Thank you for sitting with us.” How could she innocently ask him to stay?

He stepped off the quilt, looking uncomfortable. “Ain’t been to a Sunday meetin’ since I was a wee thing. Brought back some memories. Thank you, Miss.”

Mrs. Ingram rose as well. “I’m pleased you chose to join us, Mr …?”

Callie held her breath. How would he introduce himself?

Orion squirmed before meeting her eyes. “Rion’s fine, ma’am.”

“Mr. Rion. Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Mrs. Ingram nodded. “Even before the medicine show rolled into town, the church had planned a picnic for after the service today. You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. I believe Dr. Chellingworth and his bunch will be entertaining us in a short while.”

Rion shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but—”

“Please?” The word slipped from Callie’s lips unbidden, and the boarders turned questioning glances her way. “You’d delight us all if you’d stay.” She darted a glance at Mrs. Ingram and Joe, who’d wandered over. “Wouldn’t he?”

They chorused their agreements.

Rion squirmed again. “Why’re y’all bein’ so kind?” He scratched at his beard. “Y’all are good, upstandin’ folk. You ain’t the type that usually gives me no never mind.”

Callie cocked her head. “Why do you say that?”

He squinted. “Ain’t nobody thrown much softness or care my way. Unlike you, in your fancy clothes and finery.”

Oh dear. What experiences had he lived through since they were separated? Her own had been a mixed bag of hardship and love—adored by her adoptive parents … but hated by her adoptive brothers.

Had Rion wanted for even that much goodness? Or had his life gone off track in adulthood?

Mrs. Ingram offered a placid smile. “We all need kindness, Mr. Rion. Please accept ours.”

He gawped, looking like he might crawl out of his skin. “Y’all didn’t plan for me. There won’t be enough food. Just enjoy the show, and I’ll be about my business.”

Lord, this is my brother! She almost couldn’t breathe. How do I convince him to stay?

From her stool near the edge of the quilt, Hattie cleared her throat. “What are you afraid of, Mr. Rion?”

Every eye swung her way.

Joe’s discreet, warning headshake was surely meant to stall Hattie’s question, though she couldn’t possibly reel it in once it was dangled out there.

Appearing befuddled, Rion’s jaw cracked open. “Ain’t afraid of nothin’, Miss.”

“Then stay. You said we seem like kind, upstanding people, and we’ve more than enough food to accommodate you. I made much of it myself, and I’m told I’m a fine cook.”

“She is,” several of the others confirmed.

He squirmed, but finally nodded grudgingly. “All right. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rion.” Emotion knotted Callie’s throat. “We’re happy to have you.”

What happened here? Every one of Mrs. Ingram’s boarders seemed pleased as punch that they’d convinced Rion Braddock to stay. In the months Joe had lived at Mrs. Ingram’s boardinghouse, he knew her to be a faith-filled woman who often made newcomers and outsiders feel at home—but they were usually women. And Callie had been the one to follow this gunman and convince him to stay—not Mrs. Ingram. Now the others had joined her cause. Even he had, without fully understanding why.

Her interest in Braddock seemed more than a question of whether he knew about the black horse, particularly when, at moments, she seemed nearly overcome with emotion. It was uncharacteristic.

“Mr. Nesbitt?” Mrs. Ingram’s gentle call pulled him from his spinning thoughts. “Why don’t you and Mr. Rion bring the picnic basket and the jugs of water from the wagon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He motioned for Braddock to follow.

Walking shoulder to shoulder, they were well away from the others before either man spoke.

“So what’s Miss Jarrett’s story?” Braddock asked in a hush.

“What do you mean?”

“Pretty little gal like that, in her fancy clothes, chases down a man like me? What’s she after?”

A chill raced down his spine. “Lay a hand on her, and you’ll deal with me. She’s nothing, if not a lady.”

“You her beau, or somethin’?”

That was a shot across the bow. “Shouldn’t matter. There are proper ways to treat ladies, and—”

“I know how to treat a gal right, Nesbitt. Just readin’ the table, so to speak. Is she spoken for?”

Joe’s hackles rose. “I’ve more than a passing interest, so back off.”

Braddock smirked.

Reaching over the wagon’s gate and dragging the picnic basket and two earthen jugs of water nearer, Joe turned on Braddock. “And since you’ve called it to our attention more than once, exactly what type of man are you, Mr. Rion ? What’s your story?”

With a discreet glance, the gunman lifted one jug, then the other, keeping his voice low. “As you already know, the name’s Orion Braddock. What I said to Miss Jarrett is the truth. I ain’t had much softness in my life. Not many I call friends. No place to live. I roam. It suits me.”

“What do you do for money?”

“This and that. Sometimes lawman. Done some cattle work. Right now, I’m huntin’ a few bounties.”

The information rolled off Braddock’s tongue with practiced precision—which meant either it was a well-told lie or it was the truth.

“Who’re you hunting?”

Braddock eyed him. “You tryin’ to steal my bounties?”

Lifting the basket from the wagon box, Joe laughed. “I’ll steer clear of your bounties so long as you steer clear of Kezia Jarrett.”

“I’d shake on it, but my hands are full.” He hefted the jugs.

“Your word’ll do.”