She knew she’d never see the man again. He had a quest of his own—the search for his bride—while she must complete her own journey. That their divergent paths had crossed at all was amazing. She only wished she’d had an opportunity to thank him in person.
Wanting to memorize the image of her rescuer so she could later pay proper homage to his compassion, Faith swayed closer to the thick, white-painted casement. Beneath his beard and mustache, she thought she saw a smile, though it was impossible to be certain at such a great distance. Hopeful, she raised her hand as if bestowing a blessing.
In reply, the man tipped his hat, then squared it on his head, reined his horse hard and rode off.
Faith’s heart pounded as she watched him go. Clearly, he’d entered her life to profoundly influence it. No matter how far she traveled or how many more years she lived, she’d never forget him.
Sudden awareness made her breath catch. Of course! The man on the red horse had been the answer to her fervent prayers for deliverance. Accepting that notion tempered her perspective of the ordeal in which she was currently embroiled. Without his amazing intervention she might actually have died, alone and ignored.
And gone to be with Jesus, she countered, certain her lonely soul would approve of the idea, just as it had ever since her mother’s fatal accident. This time, however, Faith found she was no longer looking forward to joining Mama in heaven. Yes, she wanted to see all her loved ones again someday, but her earthly tasks weren’t complete. Not yet.
By proving she wasn’t truly alone in her current trials, a heaven-sent stranger had inadvertently opened her eyes—and her heart—to the possibility of a bright, worthwhile future.
And she didn’t even know his name.
Chapter Three
Near evening, the sun turned the adobe walls of Fort Laramie a pale crimson. Myriad cooking fires were burning in the distant wagon camps. Anna brought Faith a bowl of warm gruel with pork trimmings and a cup of broth made with boiled, dried vegetables.
“I’d a fetched you more if I’d figured you could hold it,” she said, setting the small pewter tray down on the top of the washstand.
“Whatever you’ve made is fine.” Faith managed a smile and arose with care, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. Thoughtful, she paused. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay you for all your kindness. If I were going to be here longer I’d offer to work off my bill.”
“Ain’t necessary. It’s been paid.”
“But…how? Surely my sister didn’t…”
“Not her. Forgive me for sayin’ so, but she’s about as worthless as a pocket on a pouch.”
Blushing, Faith stifled a chuckle. The analogy was funny and most apropos. “Then, how was it paid?” Tempted by the aroma of the hot broth, she raised the cup to sip while Anna spoke.
“Them fellas what busted you up took up a fine collection—with a little prodding.”
Faith paused as the liquid trickled down her throat, warming her against the cool of the evening. “Prodding? I don’t understand.” But in her heart, she did. Unless she missed her guess, her buckskin-clad benefactor had once again come to her rescue. A faint smile began to lift the corners of her mouth.
Anna snickered. “From the look in your eye, I’d say you’ve got the right idea. Didn’t see it happen, myself, but talk is, your Mr. McClain dusted the floor of Maguire’s with them boys in blue.”
“Oh, dear.” Faith pressed her free hand to the base of her throat, over the mourning pendant. It was strange to hear the big man referred to as her Mr. McClain. So, that was his name.
“Quite a sight, they say, and I can sure see why. That boy’s a big one, all right. Strong as Finnegan’s ox.”
“He’s hardly a boy,” Faith observed, sipping more broth to cover her urge to smile at the ridiculous comparison. “Did he say what his given name was?”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say as he did. Why?”
“I just wondered.”
“It’s good you’ve got a friend like him, considering the mess you’re in.”
Lowering the cup of broth, Faith set it aside before taking advantage of the comment to ask, “When you say mess, are you referring to my injury, or to our business dealings with Ramsey Tucker?”
“Both. Mostly Tucker, I reckon.”
Faith reached for the older woman’s callused hands, clasping them tightly. “Please. I must know everything you’ve heard.”
“You won’t like it.”
“Ramsey Tucker has made more than one inappropriate suggestion regarding my lack of a husband or father to care for me and my sister during the crossing. I’d hardly be shocked at anything you’d tell me about his character. He’s detestable.”
Nodding, Anna led Faith over to the edge of the rope bed and they perched together on the wooden frame. “You’re right about him. He’s passed through here seven or eight times. I liked him less every time I laid eyes on him.”
“But why? I’ve seen that he’s cruel. He’s even whipped my poor, innocent mules for no reason except pure meanness. But there must be more. I feel it.”
“Maybe so. Not that I have any sworn word on it, mind you, but I hear your captain’s been made a new widower on just about every trip.” She paused, patting Faith’s hands for comfort. “They say he picks out a woman of property, sidles up to her, and before she knows it they’re married. Trouble is, his brides don’t reach Californy.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “And he inherits?”
“Every penny. And all his dead wife’s possessions, to boot. Makes himself a pretty piece of change, what with sellin’ off their rigs and all.”
“Oh, dear Lord!” Faith’s hands fluttered to her throat again. “He started making up to my sister after I rebuffed him.”
“That ain’t good. Not good at all.”
“I know. But what can I do? We have to get to my father somehow.”
“Stay here then. Wait for the next train to come through and join up with them.”
“We can’t.” Ringing her hands, Faith began to pace, oblivious to the pain in her side. “Tucker has most of the money I was able to raise by selling what was left of the farm. We can’t afford to pay again. And we might not be able to talk another party into accepting us, even if we could. Not two women alone.”
Shrugging, Anna got to her feet. “You’re probably right about that.” She reached into her apron pocket, came up with a fistful of coins, and placed them in Faith’s hands. “Here. Take this. It’s not much but it’ll help.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Have to, as I see it,” the shopkeeper countered. “It ain’t my money. It come
