my.” Miss Alma’s hand went to her ruffled breast. “Why, I haven’t heard a thing. Where did your mother find the child? Does she need a place to stay?”
“No, no, she’s safe,” Mary replied, flustered by the questions. “Perhaps you might keep your ear to the ground, as it were, and if you find out anything, let me know?”
“Of course I will.”
They said their goodbyes, and Mary watched the lady who’d saved her life bustle away. Not her physical life, but her emotional one. Childhood chaos aside, she’d been a mess when Trevor first brought her to Lou’s. Miss Alma had nursed her back to health and introduced her to God, to a Jesus who saw past skin and circumstance to the very heart of a person. Who loved despite a person’s flaws or parentage.
Feeling cozy from memories, she wheeled to the right and headed toward her horse. One more stop and then she could go home.
Home.
Humming her favorite hymn, Mary set out for the Paiute encampment. Sunlight warmed her shoulders and bathed the path before her in brightness. If only her own path could be so clear. With Lou injured and Josie running wild, she wasn’t sure what to do.
And there was that way Lou had looked at her the other day—intent, dark. Her belly flip-flopped at the memory. She shook herself.
No matter what occurred in the next few weeks, she must disentangle herself from Lou, from the ranch, from everything that made her dependent on him.
The encampment loomed before her, scents reaching her as she came closer. Her mother’s tent had no smoke, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t home. It was a warm day after all.
As she stopped before the tepee, an older man appeared from behind the tent’s flap. He peered up at her, eyes black in the light.
“I am looking for my mother. Rose.” That had been her name in the past, but Mary didn’t know if she’d kept it or reverted to a traditional name.
“Rose not here.” The flap fluttered closed as the man disappeared.
Around her, kids laughed and a dog barked. Sweat trickled down her neck as she roasted beneath the sun, trying to process the man’s words. Not there? Had she left on her own? Or had the man with the violet eyes found her?
Whatever faults her mother might have, Mary didn’t want harm to come to her. Maybe he meant she’d gone to a general store, perhaps to sell goods?
She debated pestering the man again or riding back to town. Her sense of decorum made the decision for her. Sliding the reins over her mare’s neck, she turned the horse back to town.
Once there, she discovered no one knew of her mother’s whereabouts. How strange. She glanced at the general store, where she’d caught up with Miss Alma, who’d reinvited her to the sewing circle. When she asked about her mother, the women in the store shrugged and said she’d been to town early in the morning to sell her baskets. They hadn’t seen her since.
Feeling a heavy sigh forming, Mary led her mare down the road going out of town and in the direction of the ranch. Ahead, a lone horse hitched to a pole stomped his hoof. The mare whickered and edged to the left, bumping Mary.
“Come on, girl.” She soothed her with a pat on the neck as they moved farther left, away from the nervous stallion at the post.
Raised voices ahead slowed Mary’s gait. Male voices, sharp and angry. She remembered that sound altogether too well. Cringing, she hugged closer to the horse, hoping to sneak past. It was her hope the men were too involved to notice her.
Here, at the outskirts of town, there was no telling what riffraff lingered. She wet her lips. She could always jump on the horse and gallop away, but that would certainly draw attention. Drawing a deep breath of horse, dust and sunlight, she trudged forward, wincing when one man’s voice rose particularly loudly.
From beneath lowered lids she scanned the area and saw nothing amiss. Tilting her head, she looked to the left. The space between two buildings resembled an alley. It was dark and deep, the perfect place for an argument. She shuddered and kept going. She’d just passed the opening there when the sound of a grunt followed by a thick thud startled her mare.
The horse jerked and the reins slipped through her hands, burning her palms. With a clatter of hooves and a flurry of dust, the mare left her standing slack-jawed in the road.
Instinctually her arms rounded her rib cage. Miss Alma’s gift bumped against her hip. She hurried to the opposite side of the road, hiding behind a stack of onion barrels. She glared at the speck of her horse on the horizon, no doubt heading home. She must find a new one, and soon, before the mare worried Lou and James needlessly. But who could she ask?
Miss Alma might still be in town. Surely she’d give Mary a ride for part of the way, or possibly send a message to the ranch somehow....
Mind made up, she stepped away from the barrels and promptly stopped. A man appeared at the edge of the alley across the street. He stood tall and narrow, and something about his posture sent a shiver of foreboding through her.
Pivoting, she headed toward town. Footsteps sounded behind her. She picked up her pace, knowing only a few yards farther the streets teemed with shoppers.
The footsteps increased, faster than hers, until she felt a presence beside her and smelled the overpowering odor of cologne. Pulse clanging in her ears, she looked up and met the gaze of the violet-eyed stranger.
Chapter Six
Lou was sitting by the window when he saw a mare race into the yard. The horse pranced nervously near the porch before galloping toward the stables. An empty saddle went with her.
Biting back an oath, he rose from his spot, palming the wall until his vision became normal and the dizziness passed. His legs felt rubbery, but somehow he made it to the post of his bed. James had helped him earlier to the window. Now Lou wished he’d left some crutches in the room. He could barely breathe.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he shuffled to the opposite bedpost, the one closest to the door. Don’t fail me, he urged his body. Finally, his neck clammy and a sheen of sweat pebbling his forearms, he made it to the door.
“James,” he shouted. His voice sounded like a croak. Scowling, he tried again. The sound of footsteps padded up the stairs. Little feet.
He’d never been so glad to see Josie. He rested his head against the door frame and waited for the girl to appear. Sure enough, she plopped herself right under his gaze, a big smile on her face.
“Hey, Mister Lou. Whatcha want?”
“Get me James,” he said.
“Okeydokey.”
She pattered off, but the image of her guileless face remained, taunting him with memories. Swallowing past his dry throat, he allowed himself to slide to the ground.
In moments, James was clumping up the stairs, his breaths heavy and labored. Lou saw his feet stop at the head of the stairs. “That whippersnapper said you was dying.”
Squinting, Lou looked up at the man who’d been with him for
