Weston now. She’d combined her married name of Westbury and her maiden name of Creighton in the hopes her father wouldn’t be able to find her. She reasoned that way she wasn’t really being deceitful by combing her maiden and married names. Hopefully, it was enough to put her father off her trail for a time, at least.
“Are you awake?” the man at her side asked.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked straight into gray ones that held her gaze so firmly she couldn’t blink. It was like looking into deep, still waters and finding herself reflected back from the depths. What a strange thought, she realized.
“You’re awake. Good.” He turned aside. “I brought food for us all.”
He twisted a lid from a jar, and the aroma of something savory—tomato and beef, if she didn’t miss her guess—made her empty stomach tighten like a fist.
Metal rang against glass. Was he serving soup into bowls?
“Thank you,” the girls chorused.
She imagined them eating eagerly, their complete attention on the food. She knew nothing but gratitude that their empty tummies would be warmed and filled, but she didn’t want to owe this man.
Although she already did.
The need to accept help and the desire to take care of herself warred for but a minute. She was not in a position to refuse this man’s kindness. As soon as she felt stronger, she would return to her plan.
Plan? For a moment, she couldn’t remember what the plan was. Oh, yes, take care of the girls. Keep them from Father and wait until the stagecoach driver saw fit to make the trip north, where I expect to find employment.
She tried to sort out the details of the past few hours. “You know my name.”
“Your girls told me. Allow me to introduce myself. Blue Lyons.”
“I believe you rescued me. Thank you.”
“Your girls are very persuasive.”
She didn’t know if those words should please her or alarm her. Before she could decide, Blue’s hand slipped around her shoulders, and he raised her head. She thought to protest the familiarity but couldn’t dredge up words.
“Eat this.” He held a spoon to her lips. Not even stubborn pride stopped her from opening up like a little bird. He tipped the spoonful of soup into her mouth. Her taste buds exploded at the succulent flavor. She couldn’t begin to describe the pure pleasure of hot food; she simply enjoyed the first decent meal she’d had in days. He held another spoonful to her lips and then another. She consumed it greedily.
The warmth filled her stomach and spread throughout her body.
She shifted so that she sat upright without his supporting arm. The fur around her shoulders slipped to her lap as she reached for the spoon. “I can feed myself.”
He yielded the spoon to her but continued to hold the bowl. She scooped out a bit of the mixture. When she tried to raise the spoon to her mouth, her hand shook so much she lost the contents.
He took the spoon back. “Think it might take a little longer for your strength to return.”
She didn’t want to feel helpless, but he was right. “I feel like a baby,” she murmured.
“’Cause Mr. Blue is feeding you?” Libby asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s not a baby, is she?” Libby demanded of Blue.
Clara darted a glance at him under the curtain of her eyelashes.
“Nope, she’s a mama.” Blue continued to feed her as if it were an everyday experience.
She looked directly at him, matching him look for look, silent assessment with silent assessment. “I perceive you’ve had practice at this. You must have children.”
His hand paused midair. He stared into the distance, then shifted his attention back to her. “I once did. Once had a wife, too.”
Once? He spoke as if they were gone now. It could mean nothing else, and her insides wrenched with the thought of his loss. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s the past.” The words came out flat, as if he felt nothing.
A shiver crossed her shoulders. She knew it wasn’t something that left a person immune.
He mistook her shiver. “You’re still cold.” He tossed the last of the gathered wood into the fire.
“I’m not cold.” Any more than you aren’t sorrowful. She shifted again and reached for the bowl and spoon. She managed to eat the rest of the soup without spilling it. He handed out biscuits, and the girls sighed blissfully as they bit into them.
Clara couldn’t blame them. The biscuits tasted fine and went a long way toward filling the emptiness in her stomach. Though she’d fed the children whatever food she’d found the past two days, she’d no doubt they were still hungry. She watched as they ate with glee.
Blue sat cross-legged facing her. “Ma’am, if you tell me where you’re going, I’ll see you get there.”
She studied the half-eaten biscuit in her fingers. Felt his waiting and the watchfulness of the girls. She had to say something and settled on a portion of the truth. “I’m waiting for a ride from someone.”
When he didn’t say a thing, she looked at him. She wished she hadn’t when she saw the way his expression grew hard. He glanced at the girls, then back at her. He leaned in. “This person is going to come today?” He was so close his breath brushed her cheeks.
“I’m not certain when to expect him.” Petey, the stagecoach driver, had made only one thing clear about his return.
“Ye’ll know when I’m back in town,” he’d said. “Won’t likely stop long with winter weather to contend with. So be here and be ready if you want a ride. ’Twill be the last trip I make north for the winter.”
“So you’re stranded until this person shows up?” Blue asked. “What if he doesn’t?”
She sat up straight and tipped her chin. She had no intention of telling this man her plans. “I’m trusting God to take care of us. He will provide.”
He sat back. “Exactly how long are you planning to wait for that to happen?”
“As long as it takes.” It sounded foolish, simplistic, even childish, but she had no one else to turn to but God, nor did she trust anyone else. Anyone could reveal her whereabouts to a seemingly concerned person asking after her, and that bit of information could be relayed to her father. She managed to control the shiver racing through her. If Father found them...
“In the meantime, are you planning to sleep in empty buildings? Faint from hunger and cold? What about—” His gaze darted to the girls and back.
This was not a conversation she wanted her daughters to hear. “Girls, you can go play quietly.”
“Where,
