his vest pocket, removed a coin and flipped it Esther’s way. Thomas’s hand shot out and caught it before she could react, holding it up. A silver dollar.
“That the right amount?”
She nodded. “That will cover what he owes and this week’s laundry.”
“What about the rest of them?”
“They’re current.”
“Fair enough. Time for you boys to go.” Thomas motioned with his pistol toward their horses. The gun was like an extension of his hand. “And when you come back, you’ll mind your manners, I’m sure.”
The men were just preparing to mount up when a weak cry came from the house. The baby! She’d clean forgotten about him.
Danny jerked around at the sound. “What’s that?”
Thomas stepped in front of Esther, nudging her backward toward the open doorway. She put her hand on his shoulder and stood on tiptoe to keep her eye on Danny.
Rip trotted into the house and then emerged again with a whine. The infant’s cry grew louder and unmistakable.
“A baby? Where’d you get a baby, Esther Jensen?” Danny shouted, making Rip growl and lower his head once more.
Thomas stood his ground. “I believe it’s past time for you boys to be moving along.”
Danny’s eyes darted from Thomas to Esther and back again, calculating. “If you’re figuring to horn in here, Beaufort, you’d best be the one moving along.” He poked his boot into his stirrup and swung into the saddle. “I aim to have this ranch one way or another, and soon. I don’t know where that brat came from, or how long you’re staying, but you both better be gone pronto.” He sunk his spurs into his horse’s sides, and the animal surged into a gallop, the rest of the men following, sending clouds of dust into the air.
Esther let out her breath, tension trickling away. When she turned to go to the crying infant, Thomas followed.
“What’s going on here, Esther? Why is Danny Newton after your ranch? And why does he think he can get it?” Thomas holstered his weapon and crossed his arms.
Esther wrapped the baby in the towel again and lifted him to her shoulder, crooning to him, trying to ignore the panicked flipping of her heart. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can’t handle.” Hopefully he hadn’t overheard about the taxes coming due. Esther had practiced the most severe economy this year, and she had almost enough to meet the tax bill, barring any unforeseen events, but that was her problem, not Thomas’s.
After all, he’d be gone soon.
* * *
Thomas had his hands full with the frisky team. Clearly it had been a while since they’d been harnessed and hitched. He remembered them from his time as a ranch hand. The bay was shaggy and the black scruffy, and both could use a good currying and trip to the blacksmith, but he used a firm voice and steady hand, and they gradually gentled.
He brought the horses and buckboard around the house, still tense from the encounter with Danny Newton and his crew. Thomas and Danny had never been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies, either. How often did Esther have to deal with customers treating her poorly? And why was Danny hoping to get his hands on her property?
The news that Elihu Jensen was dead had rocked him. When Thomas had ridden away five years ago, the rancher had been in good health, with a profitable ranch and big plans for his daughter’s future. Plans that hadn’t included Thomas.
The condition of the Double J shocked Thomas. The disrepair and despair everywhere was a punch in the gut. The weather in south-central Texas could be hard on buildings and equipment, but this seemed extreme for only five years. If he was going to stay, he could fix up a few things. Too bad he couldn’t spare the time. Jase Swindell’s trail grew colder by the minute. He might be halfway to the Rio Grande by now.
Esther emerged from the house, the baby in her arms. Her eyes looked pensive, and a little furrow had developed between her eyebrows. Thomas helped her into the rig; the touch of her hand in his sent a familiar jolt up his arm. Climbing aboard himself, he glanced at her hands as he picked up the reins. They were so different than when he’d first known her. Then they had been pale and slender, moving constantly when she spoke. Often she wore fingerless lace gloves, wielding a fan or some fancy needlework as she rocked on the porch in the evening. Now they were reddened and work worn, the hands of a woman older than the twenty-four years he knew her to be.
He chirruped to the horses, slapping the lines.
Rip rode in the back, sticking his snout between Thomas and Esther from time to time, sniffing the wind. Sunshine slanted toward the horizon as dusk approached, and Thomas drove into town from the south, turning right onto the main street. He studied Silar Falls, comparing it to his memory.
Not much appeared to have changed, perhaps a couple of new businesses, but on the surface, things seemed the same.
The brightest lights shone from Big Aggie’s Saloon, halfway down the block. He recognized Danny Newton’s horse tied at the hitching post out front. The saddle and harness shop had closed for the day, and the telegraph office was shut up tight. One team and wagon waited down by the livery. At the west end of the street, the church steeple pierced the pink and orange sky.
Thomas hopped down and tethered the team before circling the buckboard to help Esther alight. She didn’t meet his eyes, keeping her head down and walking up the steps to the store. He followed and reached the door in time to open it for her.
As they stepped inside, Rip followed, tail wagging, determined to stick close to Esther and the baby. The proprietor, Frank Clements, looked up from his ledger. “Evening, Miss Esther. Don’t often see you at this time of day. I was about to close up and head upstairs.” He tucked his pencil behind his ear, and Thomas smiled at the gesture he remembered so well. The shopkeeper’s eyes widened when he noticed the bundle Esther carried, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw the dog.
Thomas held out his hand. “Hello, Frank. Been a while. How’s your wife?”
The shopkeeper blinked, tearing his gaze away from Esther and Rip. “Well, as I live and breathe. Thomas Beaufort!” A smile stretched his cheeks. “How long has it been, son?”
“Too long.” Thomas shook his hand, happy to be remembered, though he’d only spent one summer in Silar Falls. “Glad we made it in before you closed. We need to pick up a few things.” Glancing around, he hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. Nothing seemed to have changed inside the mercantile, either. The candy jars still sat beside the glass display case of fans and scarves and combs. Canned goods stood in pyramids on the shelves behind. The sharp tang of vinegar from the pickle barrel mixed with the scent of beeswax polish and new boots.
Thomas snapped his fingers and motioned to Rip to lie down. The big dog dropped to his belly, watching and waiting for the next command. “Wait there and don’t make a nuisance of yourself, boy.”
Esther eyed the stock on the shelves, her lips pressed together. The baby slept sweetly in her arms, and she gently rocked from side to side. Thomas wondered if she was even aware she was swaying.
“What can I do for you?” Frank pressed his hands on the countertop, leaning forward, the lamplight gleaming off his bald dome. He was clearly curious about the baby, but he didn’t
