Page 33 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes (Montana Mail-Order Brides #7)

“Mister! Mister!”

Buster Halverson jerked to a halt at the frantic tone of the voice behind him. He turned and saw a boy, his face red from running, his brown hair tousled, and a look that warned Buster something was amiss.

“Help us. Please.” The boy, whom Buster guessed to be nine, or at the most, ten, panted and rocked back and forth on his heels.

“What do you need?”

“Mama’s sick. So is little Hannah. I don’t know what to do.”

Buster nodded. He’d never leave a child—or his mama—in need of help. No sir. He wasn’t that sort of man. He could at least suggest they go to the store where Mrs. Luckham would offer a place to rest. The Luckhams were charitable people.

“Come on.” The boy raced away, pausing to wave at Buster to catch up.

Buster lengthened his stride. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the boy’s name and to inquire where his mama was, but the boy clattered up the wooden steps to the train station platform, leaving Buster trotting after him with no opportunity to say anything.

Buster drew to a halt. Not only was there a mama, a Hannah, though he couldn’t say if it was the little girl or the older one who sat holding her mama upright. But there was also another boy, younger than the first.

“Ma’am, what seems to be the problem?” Not that he couldn’t see for himself.

She was sick. Too weak to hold her head upright.

He figured it was only the older girl at her side that kept her from slipping from the bench.

The mama lifted her unfocused eyes to him, opened her mouth, and appeared to run out of steam for she closed her eyes again and sighed into the bench.

It was the older girl who answered. “Mama’s dreadfully sick and weak. The conductor put us off the train. Said he couldn’t take care of sick people. Hannah’s sick too.”

The younger child leaned into her mother, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes wide. Red spots in her cheeks and a glaze to her eyes informed Buster she was fevered.

“Very well.” Except it wasn’t very well at all.

Taking in a traveler needing rest was one thing to expect of the Luckhams. Taking in a family of five, tending them through whatever this illness was, well, that was quite another.

“Let’s see.” He was stalling. Trying to think what to do.

“First off, I’m Buster Halverson. I have a ranch to the northwest of here. And who would you be?”

The older girl answered. “I’m Rachel. My little sister is Hannah.

She’s only three.” She reached around her mama to put her hand on her sister’s knees in a gesture that was so protective that memories of his own sister squeezed Buster’s heart and made it stutter once then settle back into regular rhythm.

The boy who had stopped him broke in, “I’m Grant. I’m nine and this is our little brother—”

The child had been sitting by his younger sister and now dropped from the bench, standing tall and straight. “I’m Del. I’m six. And I’m strong.”

Buster chuckled. “I guess you are.” Rachel hadn’t given her age and he shifted his attention to her. “How old are you?”

“I’m twelve.” She said it with fierceness. “I’m not only strong, but I’m also capable of looking after this family.”

“Good to know.” It looked like the job might fall to her soon if their mama wasn’t helped.

The woman in question mumbled something.

Rachel let out a huff of air. “Yes, Mama. This is our mother, Mrs. Lamond. We’re on our way to Thunder Ridge where Mama’s going to get married, and we’ll have us a home.”

So much hope hung on those few words. A hope he recognized. He, too, longed for home. One that was filled with the sounds of happy children. He patted his breast pocket. The paper rattled under his fingers. But the letter would have to wait.

“Pleased to meet all of you, but I don’t think your mama is going to be getting married today.” He made up his mind as to what he would do. “I have a big house where you can all rest and recover.” He let the words sink into the silence. “If you’re agreeable.”

No one moved. Rachel turned to her mother who gave a murmur he took for agreement.

Knowing he better make it clear where his house was before he loaded them into the wagon, he leaned back on his heels.

“I and my partners own a ranch where you’d be welcome but it’s two hours ride from here.

” Shorty and Lanigan would not object to him bringing home a woman and kids even if it wasn’t whom he’d planned.

Del’s eyes glowed. “A ranch. You got horses?”

“Yup. And cows.”

Grant and Rachel studied each other, silently communicating their concern that, despite their lack of words, was clearly evident to Buster.

Feeling he needed to reassure them, Buster continued, “My house is big. My partners have their own quarters. You wouldn’t see them.”

“I can look after Mama and Hannah.” Rachel’s voice was firm.

“Of course, you can. Why don’t I go talk to the man inside while you decide what to do?” His boots thudded on the platform as he crossed to the open doorway where Arnold, the ticket agent, watched the proceedings.

“Heard yer offer. Mighty generous of you to take ’em to your place. I’d say the missus is in pretty rough shape. Could be you’ll end up raising four kids ya hadn’t planned on.”

The thought hadn’t entered his head but now he admitted the possibility.

“I wouldn’t mind.” He spoke in a lazy way indicating nothing of his feelings.

Not that he was sure what they were. One of the reasons he meant to get himself a bride was because he missed being part of a big, noisy family.

But he wouldn’t wish the loss of their mother on these children.

Besides, there was another thing. What kind of arrangement did the woman have at Thunder Ridge?

Would the man she planned to marry be wanting to take responsibility for four orphans should that dreadful necessity arise?

Leaning on the ticket counter, he watched the Lamond family. Rachel shook her head as Grant nodded vigorously. Buster let his gaze drift past them to the blue Montana sky with a scattering of windswept clouds. Fall was upon them. He needed to get home as soon as possible and help with the work.

Grant trotted toward Buster. “Mister Halverson, we’ve agreed to go with you until Mama is better. Then—” He looked toward the tracks.

“Then I’ll bring you back and you can continue your journey.” It would mean another trip to town, but he couldn’t let that deter him.

“Mama says we must send a letter to Mr. Gibson to let him know we’re delayed.”

“Of course.” Buster could send his own letter too but would prefer to deliver it to the post office wicket on his own rather than have Arnold exam the address and jump to conclusions. He couldn’t keep his plans secret forever, but he meant to do so until he had a response.

Rachel still sat at her mama’s side. Her tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth as she bent over paper writing.

Bittersweet sorrow pinched Buster’s heart and he inhaled sharply. Bets used to do the same thing, then stick her tongue out at him when he teased her. He missed his twin sister with an ache as wide as the Montana sky he’d been looking at a moment ago.

He rejoined the family and patted Grant’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back with my wagon.” He’d left it at the blacksmith shop to get one of the wheels fixed. Hopefully, the repairs would be complete.

A few minutes later he rattled to a stop at the train station. Grant waved him toward the trunk and helped Buster carry it to the wagon. Del trotted after them the whole way.

Buster studied the wagon box. With a trunk in it, there wasn’t a lot of room for a sick woman and child. The other three children would have to crowd on the bench with him.

The sun flashed off the window behind Mrs. Lamond.

A cloud swept across the sun, and he saw his own reflection in the glass.

Just an ordinary cowboy, but now one who was part owner of a ranch with plans to invite the young lady he’d been corresponding with to join him as his wife.

Her little boy would be the start of the family he dreamed of and planned for.

But now his plans would have to wait until Mrs. Lamond and her children were well enough to move on.

“Is everyone ready to go?” he asked after he handed Rachel’s letter to the ticket agent and asked him to post it.

Rachel stood. Her mama tipped sideways, and Rachel steadied her. “Mama, can you walk? Mr. Halverson has a wagon ready.”

The woman wobbled to her feet. Her knees buckled and she tipped forward.

Buster caught her, shifted her into his arms, and headed for the wagon. “Rachel, you bring Hannah.” Mrs. Lamond barely weighed a thing. Lighter than a feather pillow. She put up a weak struggle.

“Ma’am, things will go faster if you relax and let me do the work.”

A tremble shook her. Her golden-brown hair fell across his arm. Her eyes opened and met his for a brief, challenging second. Unusual colored eyes. Almost a golden brown to match her hair.

“Fine.” Her voice was weak, but he detected a flicker of a smile on her lips.

He laughed at her hint of humor. “Let’s get you home where you can rest and get better.”

Home. A word promising everything she wanted.

Leah realized this kind man was referring to his place. If only she wasn’t so weak, she would continue making her way to Mr. Harvey Gibson and his offer of a home for her and the children in return for marriage and all that such a union represented.

She’d gladly live without having a man in her life. But she had to put her children first and with no house to call her own or enough funds to procure one or feed them properly, she had to make sacrifices.