had more than one responsibility for this little gal. He had to take care of her and get her saved. He would take her to church every Sunday and let her hear some of Reverend Thomas’s fine sermons. If he’d listened to those sermons when he should have, he’d never have killed a man, no matter how threatened he’d felt.
Another thing he could do for Marybeth was to write to the sheriff in Wagon Wheel Gap to see if he’d come across a man matching Jimmy O’Brien’s description. Maybe if Rand found her brother, she’d forget working and decide to settle down with him. On the other hand, he needed to find out what she was hiding before he could marry her. That was quite a quandary, one the Lord would have to sort out.
“If you’re done with your coffee, I’ll take you over to Mrs. Foster’s. She’ll put you up until—” He shook his head. No longer could he think until the wedding. “Until you get things worked out.”
He stood, pulled a half dollar out of his pocket and dropped it on the table to pay for their dinner, adding a nickel for Lucy’s tip. When Marybeth continued to stare at him with some sort of unreadable expression, he sighed as he snagged his hat off of the peg.
“I guess I should ask if that’s all right with you.”
She gave him a tentative smile and her eyes seemed to glisten. “Yes, it’s fine. Thank you. You’re very kind, considering...”
Rand ducked his head to put on his hat and to hide a grin. Her eyes held that secretive look again, but this time with even more uncertainty. Maybe he had a chance with this pretty little lady, after all. And maybe his older brother could offer some tips on how to win a gal determined not to like him.
“Shall we go?” Rand held out his arm and Marybeth set a hand on it.
Once again she could feel his muscles rippling through his fine cotton shirt. How nice it would be to depend upon such a strong man. But Da had also been strong before his final drink-induced illness, and his excellent physique had housed a deceitful soul. In fact, Marybeth had met few men, sturdy or weak, who kept their word. Was Jimmy any different, or had he become like Da? She’d prayed for years he hadn’t fallen into such sinful ways, but she didn’t hold out too much hope. After all, the American West was known for its lawlessness. Maybe Jimmy had chosen that path.
Even if he had, she was determined to find him and make him hand over the silver locket. Mam had told her it contained the key to a treasure that would take care of Marybeth all her life. Although Jimmy probably didn’t know what lay hidden behind the tintype picture of their family, the locket still belonged to Marybeth. Of course she would share the fortune with him. Too bad Mam hadn’t claimed the treasure herself and used it to escape Da and his abuse. Knowing him, he would have found her and forced her to turn over the money so he could gamble it away or use it in one of his get-rich schemes that always failed. The man had never known how to tell the truth or make a wise decision, other than marrying a good woman like Mam.
“It’s not far, just six blocks.” Rand glanced down at her high-top shoes, already covered with dust from the unpaved street. “But we can get a buggy if it’s too far for you to walk.”
His thoughtful gesture threatened to weaken her, so Marybeth forced her defenses back in place. “The wind has died down and it’s a lovely day. Let’s walk.” She punctuated her cheerful tone with a bright smile. “Besides, Boston’s a very hilly city and I walked everywhere there. This flat town is no challenge.”
He chuckled—a pleasant, throaty sound. “If you’re used to hills, I’ll have to take you up in the mountains for a hike. That sure would challenge you.” His teasing tone was accompanied by quick grin before a frown darted over his tanned face. “Of course we’d take a suitable chaperone.” His hastily spoken addition showed once again his eagerness to please her.
Oh, how she longed to trust him. Yet how could she dare to when he hadn’t even told her about that deadly gunfight Maisie was so proud of? When Marybeth spoke of delaying their marriage, his hurt feelings and disappointment had been obvious. Shouldn’t he have bragged about the killing, assuming she’d regard him as a hero and change her mind? She’d been honest with him about her family, at least as close to honest as she’d dared to be, but he was hiding a very significant happening in his life.
“This is the street.”
Rand steered her down a row of attractive two-story houses, several of which rivaled some of Boston’s finer clapboard homes. One redbrick structure reminded her of Boston’s older Federal-style mansions. Numerous houses were in varying stages of completion, adding to the picture of the growing community about which Colonel and Mrs. Northam had told Marybeth. Young cottonwood and elm trees lined the street, and several fenced-in yards boasted a variety of shrubbery and colorful flowers in the last blooms of summer.
“What a pretty town.” Her words came out on a sigh.
“We like it.” Rand smiled his appreciation of her compliment, and her heart lifted unexpectedly.
Peace hung in the air like a warm mantle, belying the town’s Wild West location. Maybe Esperanza would be a good place to call home after she found Jimmy. It all depended upon the people and whether or not she fit into the community.
“Here’s Mrs. Foster’s house.” Rand indicated a pretty brown house with a white picket fence, a stone foundation, a wide front porch whose roof was supported by slender columns, and gabled windows jutting out from the second floor.
A slender, gray-haired woman with a slightly bent posture bustled out of the front door. “Oh, here you are at last. Welcome, welcome.” She descended the steps, holding the railing beside them, and pulled Marybeth into a warm embrace. “I’m so glad to meet you, Miss O’Brien. Welcome to Esperanza. Welcome to my home.”
Tears flooded Marybeth’s eyes. She hadn’t been held in a maternal embrace in the four long years since Mam died, and oh, how she’d missed it. No formal introduction could have moved Marybeth as this lady’s greeting did. She obviously possessed an open heart and generous spirit, just like some of the older ladies at her Boston church. “I’m so pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Foster.”
“Hello, Rand.” The lady embraced him briefly and then looped an arm in Marybeth’s and propelled her toward the stairs. “Come along, my dear. Tolley brought your trunk and carried it up to your room. If you need help unpacking, I’ll be happy to assist you.”
“Thank you.” Marybeth glanced over her shoulder. Da never let Mam have friends, but Rand seemed pleased by Mrs. Foster’s warm welcome.
Inside the cozy, well-furnished parlor, Mrs. Foster seated Marybeth on a comfortable green-brocade settee, waving Rand to the spot beside her. “You two sit right here, and I’ll bring tea.” She left the room humming.
“I sure am glad to see her so happy.” Rand had removed his hat and placed it on a nearby chair. He brushed a hand through his dark brown hair and smoothed out the hat line. “She’s been grieving for a long time. Probably will for the rest of her life.” The hint of emotion in his voice revealed genuine compassion. “Having you stay here will be good for her.”
Marybeth could not discern any ulterior motive in his words or demeanor. Once again she was confounded. Why would a gunslinger care about an old widow? “I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.” She eyed the piano. “That’s a beautiful instrument. Do you suppose she would let me play it?” When Da wasn’t
