spine stiffened. This lady? This lady?
The way he said the words made her sound singularly incompetent. She narrowed her gaze. At least Eleanor and her father had a basis for their criticism. She certainly hadn’t traveled all this way to take orders from a man who knew nothing about her capabilities. The stagecoach man had no foundation for the contempt in his voice.
“You don’t have a choice, Mr. West,” Tilly challenged. “If Caroline is unable to travel, we’re staying put, and that’s that.”
“I’m in charge.” The stagecoach man propped his hands on his lean hips. “And I’ll have the last say.”
So much for being in charge.
The day following the arrival of his unexpected guests, Nolan glanced up from placing a harness on the peg in the livery. A scrape sounded and Victoria appeared in the opening of the livery doors. Her two dark braids rested against her shoulders, and her blue calico dress was clean and neat with a starched apron tied around her waist, an improvement over her younger sister.
Nolan brushed at the phantom blueberry stain on his knee.
The girl jammed her hands in the pockets of her apron, stretching the material taut. “Whatcha doin?”
“Oiling the harnesses.”
“How come?”
“Because dry leather cracks and breaks. Oiled leather is stronger.”
“What happens if the leather breaks?”
“The horses get hurt.”
“Can I help?”
“I’m finished,” Nolan said.
Victoria grasped the oil can. “What’s this?”
“Machine oil.” Nolan reached for the tin and replaced the base in the circle in he’d drawn on the workbench. “For machines.”
He nudged the handle until the tin faced north.
“Oh.” Victoria plucked a tool from the wall. “What’s this?”
“Pincers.” Nolan retrieved the tool and hooked the handle on the nail in the silhouette he’d drawn on the wall. “For shoeing horses.”
“Are you a blacksmith?”
“No. But sometimes a horse will throw a shoe on the trail. I can do some basic repairs.”
“It sure is quiet in this town.”
“I like quiet.”
“Hmph.” Victoria tapped her chin. “Do you have any matches? I want to light a fire.”
“Stay away from fire.” Nolan slid his hand over the box on his workbench. He surreptitiously stowed the matches in his pocket. “Even with the rain, the buildings along Main Street are nothing but dry tinder.”
“I just wondered.” Victoria shrugged. “Aunt Tilly found some oil lamps.”
“Where did she find them?”
“She and Elizabeth are exploring the town while Caroline sleeps.”
“Your aunt sure keeps busy.”
“Mama said that Aunt Tilly needs activity like some other folks need water or air.”
“You don’t say.”
He’d managed to cover his outburst the previous afternoon with relatively little notice. He’d set up a cot in the livery, and let his guests take over the relay station. Mostly he’d spent his time avoiding Miss Hargreaves. She had a look in her eye that didn’t bode well. She kept staring at him as though he was a knot she wanted to unravel. He wouldn’t let her get to him like she’d gotten to Bill.
“I like Aunt Tilly,” Victoria said, “but I miss my mama.”
He was curious about the circumstances, but reluctant to pry. Pulling answers from a seven-year-old didn’t sit well with him. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Mama stayed behind to sell our furniture and stuff, but that’s not what she told Aunt Tilly,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think Mama wants Aunt Tilly to know that we’re poor. Mama even sold our horse and our dollhouse. We’re going to live with our nanny and poppy in Omaha because Papa spent all our money and left us with a worthless gold mine. Mama said that she wasn’t surprised our pa died. She always said that gold fever was going to kill him. Can you catch gold fever?”
“No.” Nolan cleared his throat. “Sorry about your pa, too.”
He tugged on his collar. That was more information than he’d intended to learn. While he figured Eleanor ought to confide in her sister, pride was an emotion he understood all too well, and he certainly wasn’t the man to pass judgment on someone else.
“I’m glad you can’t catch gold fever,” Victoria said. “I don’t think Mama liked Pa very much. She complained that he worked all the time and made us live in Virginia City.”
“I’m sure she liked your pa just fine. Sometimes folks say things they don’t mean.”
An ear-splitting scream sounded from the direction of the abandoned hotel. Nolan’s chest tightened.
Victoria took off through the double doors in a dash but Nolan quickly outpaced the child. He crossed the street and vaulted over the boardwalk railing, then shoved open the door of the hotel. Frightened chatter reverberated from the recesses of the building.
He wove his way through the abandoned tables and chairs that littered the dining space and pushed into the kitchen. A small hand tugged on the hem of his shirt, leaving a purple print. A muscle throbbed in his temple.
The toddler seemed to have an endless supply of blackberries.
“Ti-wy,” Elizabeth said.
The little girl appeared unhurt, and his heartbeat slowed a notch.
“It’s all right.” He patted her head. “I’ll take care of this.”
Tilly perched atop a single chair with a broom held protectively before her.
“What is it?” Nolan demanded. “What’s happened?”
“In there.” Tilly gestured with her broom handle. “There’s something in the stove.”
He motioned with his hand. “Hand me the broom.”
While he’d known the hotel was equipped with a kitchen, he’d never explored the building. An enormous cast-iron stove took up most of the limited space. The chimney pipe exited through the ceiling, and light showed around the space.
Opposite
