the town its name. Round and high, the fortresslike stone capped a mesa jutting up from a meadow. To the east, Dani saw rows of buildings. Most were made of wood, but a few showed off the pinkish rhyolite stone that had given the town its birth. Twenty years ago, Castle Rock had been nothing more than a cattle stop. Now it boasted a school, two churches and dozens of businesses. Patrick had described it in his letters, filling her with excitement at the prospect of being a part of something new.
As they neared the train station, Dani saw the tracks stretching as far south as she could see. The train that brought her had left hours ago. Nothing remained. Not a trace of steam, not the six people who had disembarked with her. The only sign of humanity was her trunk sitting on the platform. It looked the way she felt…alone, abandoned and packed for a trip it would never take.
Dani reined in the livery mare. Beau Morgan halted the wagon next to her, climbed down and opened the tailgate. As he strode to the platform, she leaped down from the buggy and followed him.
“That’s my trunk,” she said.
“I figured.”
“It’s heavy. You’ll need help.”
Ignoring her, he hoisted it as if it held feathers instead of her life and lugged it down the three steps. Dani hurried to the back of the wagon where she saw a pile of quilts. Had Patrick kept them there for the girls? Or had Beau Morgan thought to bring them for the bumpy ride? Dani didn’t know, but she doubted Patrick kept blankets in his work wagon. She knew from his letters that he owned a two-seat surrey the family took to church, yet kindness didn’t fit her impression of Beau Morgan.
Now, Dani… The voice belonged to her father. Walter Baxter had been quick to love and slow to judge. She could imagine his words. For all you know, Beau Morgan’s an upstanding citizen. Judge not, daughter.
Dani tried to keep an open mind, but she couldn’t erase the picture of this man dry firing a pistol into the dark. As he latched the tailgate, she went back to the buggy. He took the reins of the wagon and led the way to the livery stable. The wagon rattled as they passed a feed store, then a mining office where men stood in a line. People on the street noticed them. Some smiled and a few waved to the girls, but Dani had no way to signal for help.
When they reached the livery, Mr. Morgan stopped the wagon. Without a word, he went into the barn and disappeared into the shadows.
“Let’s go!” Dani cried.
She leaped out of the buggy and turned. Emma shoved Esther into her arms, then jumped out the other side with Ellie behind her. As the older girls piled into the wagon, Dani boosted Esther over the tailgate, then hurried to the front seat. Before she could hoist herself up, Beau Morgan strode through the doorway.
Faking a smile, Dani put a ring in her voice. “We’re ready to go.”
“I see.” He handed her a silver dollar. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Miller’s refunding the rental.”
It wasn’t much, but every dollar would help. As she took the money, her fingers brushed his glove. He stepped back as if she had the pox, then glanced across the street to a row of shops that included an emporium. Looking befuddled, he cleared his throat. “You’ve had a long trip. Is there anything you need while we’re in town?”
Yesterday Dani had imagined browsing the shops with Patrick’s daughters. That dream had died. “No, thank you.”
“I’d pay.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Morgan.” She wanted to run, not shop.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a grunt.
Intending to ride with the girls, she headed for the back of the wagon. As she turned, strong fingers caught the bottom of her forearm and turned her back to the seat. His touch was light, nothing more than a brush, but it felt like a shackle. His voice went low, barely a whisper. “You’ll ride up front with me.”
“I’d rather sit with the girls.”
“I’m not asking what you want,” he replied. “I’m telling you what’s best.”
“I don’t see why—”
“That’s right. You don’t.”
Dani pulled out of his grip but didn’t move. His eyes tensed with the same worry she’d seen on her father’s face just before the worst storm of her life had swept across their farm. As he’d ordered her to the cellar, a tornado had funneled down behind the barn. She’d learned that day to trust her father’s instincts.
Beau Morgan’s expression shifted to the mix of a smile and a scowl she’d seen in the kitchen. Her father had known best. Did Beau Morgan?
“Is there a reason?” she asked.
“None I care to give.”
Dani opened her mouth to argue, then sealed her lips. It didn’t matter where she sat in the wagon as long as he took them to a place where they could make a run for the church. When he offered his hand, she accepted his help onto the seat. He walked to the other side, climbed up and steered the wagon into the street. Anyone on the boardwalk would think they were a family.
And that, Dani realized, explained why he’d insisted she sit at his side. She and the girls were part of a disguise. They turned Beau Morgan into a family man. Who was after him and why? Dani’s stomach clenched. With each block, they traveled farther from the church. Staring straight ahead, she risked a question. “Where are we going?”
“To see Patrick’s attorney.”
Dani thought of Emma’s guess. The child had a good mind. “It must concern the girls.”
The man glanced over his shoulder. Dani did the same and saw them huddled as far from the seat as they could get.
Looking straight ahead, he lowered his voice. “I haven’t told them yet, but you might as well know. I’m selling the farm and sending them to school.”
“You can’t!” The whisper scraped her throat.
“It’s for the best.”
Dani knotted her hands in her lap. Was it wiser to make a break for the parsonage or insist on seeing Trevor Scott herself? Patrick had never mentioned Mr. Scott. On the other hand, he’d spoken well of Pastor Blue. She was weighing the choice when they stopped in front of an ice-cream parlor. Mr. Morgan hooked his thumb toward the office building across the street. “Scott’s office is on the second floor. I thought you and the girls might enjoy some ice cream while I take care of business.”
Dani saw the answer to her prayer. “I’m sure they would.”
“Can I trust you to watch them, Miss Baxter?”
“Of course.” She’d told the truth. She wouldn’t let the girls out of her sight until they reached the church.
He reached into his pocket, extracted a few coins and handed them to her. With her heart pounding, she put the money in her reticule and climbed down from the wagon.
As
