glared at the man, and the whistler rapidly disappeared into the crowd.
“I’m sorry for that,” Russ apologized. “Let me know if you have any trouble. In some respects, Cowboy Creek is little more than a glorified cow town. Women are still somewhat of a novelty around here.”
Another wave of nausea that had nothing to do with her previous illness rippled through her stomach. She didn’t want attention. She didn’t want to be courted.
“How do I make them stop?”
“Get married, I suppose.”
“Not likely.”
His expression shifted. “I’m sorry, Anna. That was a thoughtless comment given your circumstances. Please accept my apologies.”
He thought her a grieving widow. He couldn’t be further from the truth. One thing was certain, for someone who’d had her fill of men, she’d picked a terrible place to start over.
“It’s not your fault.” She didn’t want him to be kind. She’d forgotten kindness even existed. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t missed the train.”
“Why did you miss the train?”
“Bad timing. That’s what Mr. Ward said this morning. He said life is all about timing.”
Even if she’d been older when Russ had come to call on her sister, he’d have never glanced her way. There were few women who didn’t pale in comparison to Charlotte. There was no use pining over the past.
Life was all about timing, and she’d been handicapped by a faulty watch.
The sun had reached its zenith by the time Russ was able to break for the noon meal. After delivering Anna safely to the hotel, he’d visited the office before returning home at midday. There’d been some confusion over Anna’s name at the hotel—the porter had been expecting Susannah—but Russ had smoothed over the awkward moment as best he could. He tipped his chair against the side of the house and rested his crossed ankles on the porch rail. A cool breeze stirred the warm air, and he’d slung his coat over the back of the chair.
Susannah’s letter rested on the table beside him. She’d apologized profusely in tiny script for several pages. The explanation was better delivered succinctly, but brevity had never been Susannah’s strong suit. His attention had drifted after her third apology, which only seemed to exacerbate the sting, and he’d skimmed the last page before the postscript had piqued his curiosity.
Look out for Anna. The past three months haven’t been easy, and she deserves better.
For all Susannah’s lengthy elocution, that line had been sparse. He figured she referred to Anna’s husband’s death. A pang of regret reverberated through his chest. Great sorrow only came with great love. Anna had said her husband’s death was “sudden” without revealing more. What must it be like, loving someone so much that you couldn’t let them go, even in death? What kind of man had Anna loved? Given her family connections and her father’s ambitions, her husband must have held some prominence in the community.
If he’d been a community leader, Mr. Linford’s death would be noted in the newspapers. A fellow law school graduate had recently sent Russ a copy of the Philadelphia Morning Post after winning an influential case. If Russ recalled correctly, the paper had been dated about three months before. He hadn’t cleaned off the dining room table in ages, and the newspaper was probably buried beneath a stack of legal documents.
He half stood and then sat back down again. Digging into the past felt intrusive. Anna Linford’s life was none of his business. He was protective of her, that was all. A natural inclination given their previous acquaintance. He had no romantic aspirations toward her or anyone else. Having lost out in love twice already, competing with the memory of a dead man held no appeal.
He’d seen that sort of soul-deep love before in his parents’ marriage before his father’s fall from grace. As though she were summoned by his thoughts, he recognized his mother’s silhouette near the end of the block, her steps long and purposeful. Dread filled his stomach. He’d have to tell her about Susannah, but perhaps news of the attack on the road had failed to circulate.
Moments later, she climbed the shallow porch stairs and leaned against the banister. “Lovely afternoon we’re having.”
Sunlight glinted off the dark hair beneath the brim of her ribboned hat. Though she’d never admitted as much, she was still mourning the disappearance of her husband nearly a decade before. Once or twice, Russ had broached the subject, and she’d gently but firmly rebuked his questions. Whatever she thought of her husband’s defection, she kept the feelings to herself. Instead, she clung to his memory with love.
“Isn’t today your meeting with the committee?” Russ righted his chair. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
On Mondays, she met with the opera house committee and often stayed well into the afternoon. They invariably dined at one of the restaurants in town.
She hoisted a perfectly winged eyebrow. “I heard there were outlaws in the area.”
Russ heaved a sigh. “Not anymore.” Keeping the encounter a secret had been too much to ask. Gossip spread faster than a plague of locusts.
His mother gestured toward the house. “Did you find your lunch?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to cook for me. I can eat at The Cattleman on the days you have meetings.”
“I like to take care of you once in a while.”
“Then I won’t argue. Too much. Having home-cooked meals has been a rare treat.”
While his mother spent the bulk of her time living with Seth on his ranch outside of town, she was staying with Russ for a few weeks while Seth and Marigold adjusted to married life with an instant family.
Just last month, Seth had become the guardian of three boys following the death of a childhood friend. Though a confirmed bachelor, Seth had taken on the added responsibility of raising three precocious children. The pretty, new schoolteacher had assisted with the transition. His brother had fallen head over heels for Marigold, and the two had recently married and adopted the three boys, as well as Marigold’s young niece, Violet, who had come to town. Seth’s bachelor home had gone from a hollow shell to a house brimming with love practically overnight. The transformation in his brother was both astonishing and heartwarming.
Russ pulled out a chair. “Did you visit Seth today?”
“I watched the boys for a few hours. Violet is still adjusting. She’s only seven and the last few months have been difficult. Before she lived for that brief time with her father, she was accustomed to having Marigold’s attention all to herself. Now she has three brothers to contend with. Marigold and Seth wanted a little time alone with her.”
Russ nodded. “She’s gone through a lot, losing her mother and being taken from her aunt. She appears resilient, though.”
“She’s an absolute delight.
