shook her head, though this time there was nothing firm about the gesture. “That’s very kind, but I don’t want to take advantage—”
“Not at all.” Abigail lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret. “Besides, it’s good advertisement if folks see people borrowing my books.” She waved toward the bookshelves. “Feel free to look over what’s available while I clear these dishes.”
Chance could see Eve’s resolve wavering as she stared longingly at the bookshelves. Deciding she needed another nudge, he stood and pulled her chair out for her. Pitching his voice so only she could hear, he whispered, “It would be an insult for you to refuse Abigail’s offer.”
She gave him a doubtful look. “I certainly wouldn’t want to offer her any insult.” She glanced again toward the shelves. “Perhaps I’ll go over and just take a look.”
He watched her cross the room and then slowly, almost reverently, run her fingers along the rows of books, taking her time studying the various titles. What kind of book would she select? Would her prim and proper side win out and have her select a volume of dry essays or sermons? Or would her more daring side win out and point her to some more entertaining work of fiction?
She pulled out a book and smiled as she silently read a passage. Suddenly, that familiar kick of jealousy tinged with shame twisted his gut and he turned away.
“Why is she so excited about a bunch of books?” Leo asked, wrinkling his nose.
Chance pushed his ugly emotions aside and smiled down at the boy. “You’d be surprised how many people enjoy reading,” he answered. “There are a lot of adventures to be found between the pages of a good book.” Some of his favorite memories were of his mother reading to him as a boy.
“Adventures?” That had obviously grabbed his attention.
Did the boy know how to read? If his story was true, he likely hadn’t seen the inside of a schoolroom since he was eight years old, if at all. Maybe he should have a talk with Mitch about how to get Leo prepared for returning to the classroom eventually.
Then Chance pulled himself up short. He wasn’t the kid’s father and he certainly wasn’t planning to make this little diversion a long-term commitment. He had too many problems of his own right now. Once the boy’s guilt or innocence was determined, there would be decisions to be made about him, decisions that, one way or the other, would relieve Chance of any future responsibility.
With the unexpected visit from his father looming, he’d have plenty of other issues to deal with during the next few weeks.
Chance glanced toward Eve, who was still studying the bookshelves with single-minded focus. Did she realize she’d have to hand over Leo to someone else soon? Unless she intended to adopt the boy, which didn’t seem likely given what little she’d revealed about her circumstances. Just how deep did her attachment go? Would she walk away gracefully and let the authorities do what must be done?
She finally plucked a book from the shelves and turned to rejoin them. Pausing at the desk, she dutifully wrote in the ledger, apparently following the directions the trusting Abigail had posted.
“What did you select?” he asked when she returned.
She held up a small book bound in leather with dark red lettering on the front. To his relief, she also described her selection. “It’s a book of poetry.”
Well now, wasn’t that an unexpected and interesting choice?
So she did have a less straight-laced, more romantic side to her, even if it was buried a bit deep.
Yep, the next few days could prove interesting indeed.
Chapter Six
Eve clutched the borrowed book to her chest as they left the restaurant, feeling one part guilt and one part excitement. She shouldn’t have taken advantage of Abigail’s generosity the way she had, but the idea of having a book to read had been too irresistible a temptation.
They made a quick stop at the sheriff’s office to retrieve her carpetbag and then headed for Mr. Dawson’s place.
Eve still felt uncomfortable with the idea of moving into the home of an unmarried man, especially one she’d met only a few hours ago, but accepted that she had little choice in the matter. The fact that Dotty and the sheriff saw nothing amiss with the plan did reassure her. And she was selfishly glad Mr. Dawson had tapped Dotty to play the part of chaperone. She’d liked the woman almost on sight.
“Tell me,” she asked Mr. Dawson, “what sort of business are you in?”
Was that a wince? Had she overstepped with her question?
But almost immediately he was flashing one of his carefree grins again. Perhaps she’d been mistaken, let her fancy run away with her as her grandmother often accused.
“I repair mechanical devices,” he said.
“Mechanical?”
“Yes, I tinker around with all sorts of machinery— stationary engines, grandfather clocks, sewing machines—I repair and adjust them when they break down.”
Leo’s eyes lit up. “Are you working on anything right now?”
Mr. Dawson rubbed his jaw, but she saw a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, let’s see. Mrs. Carlisle’s sewing machine is giving her problems so I’m taking a look at it for her. And I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately tinkering with a stationary engine.”
Leo nodded solemnly as if he knew exactly what Mr. Dawson was talking about.
“Of course, you might be more interested in the mechanical toys I’ve taken apart just to see how they work.”
Leo’s face brightened further. “Can I help with that?”
“We’ll see. There’s one other thing I work with that might interest you—I spend time making certain my motor carriage stays in good working order.”
Leo stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing rounder. “You have a motor carriage?” He said it as if Mr. Dawson had just admitted to having a pirate’s treasure hidden in his shop.
Even Eve was impressed with the announcement. She’d heard of motor carriages but had never actually seen such a thing.
“That I do,” he answered proudly.
“Can I see it?” Leo was practically bouncing with excitement.
Mr. Dawson waved a hand to indicate they should move forward again. “You can not only see it, you can sit in it if you like.” He turned to Eve. “Both of you.”
Eve wasn’t at all certain that was something either she or Leo should agree to. Was it safe? But she settled for smiling and giving him a noncommittal “We shall see” response.
As they turned the corner, Eve saw a building that had the unmistakable trappings of a saloon—most notably the swinging half doors and the faded but still legible sign proclaiming the name of the establishment to be The Blue Bottle.
She looked around
