“After my welcome in Last Chance, I wasn’t sure I’d get any help.”
He cast a glance toward the parson, gave a sparse nod, and then looked straight at Alex. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, but his eyes lingered for a moment and a quizzical look touched his features.
Alex stared back, feeling powerless to break the gaze. A slow blush rose up her neck and warmed her cheeks. She opened her lips, unsure of what she should say, when the slap of the reins on the horses’ rumps snapped them shut again. She spun toward the church and ducked her head. She could hear the buggy moving down the road but didn’t look back. The sheriff and parson could see the pair off.
Alex directed her steps toward her waiting horse. The visit with Elizabeth would have to wait until tomorrow. She’d been gone long enough.
The man stood in the shadows of the blacksmith shop, his mind replaying the scene he’d witnessed in front of the church. A stranger in town wasn’t part of his plan, but from the looks of things, he was a drifter and would probably be moving on. The man slipped around to the back of the building and untied his horse. Time to go stir things up a bit. Alex didn’t need to get too comfortable out at that ranch, no sir.
Chapter Five
Justin slapped the reins on the team’s haunches and turned the wagon in the direction the sheriff pointed, toward the other side of the small town. He’d keep his eyes open and get the lay of the land. It wouldn’t hurt to look around before heading to the ranch. Ben Travers’s request for secrecy kept him from telling the sheriff his business. Time for that after he got Toby settled and spoke to Travers.
His thoughts drifted back to the attractive woman he’d seen at the church. She’d met his gaze without flinching and with no hint of coyness in her eyes. Molly had flirted with every man she met—offering empty promises and stirring men’s pulses. Somehow Justin didn’t get the same impression from the girl at the church—she didn’t seem the type to put a lot of stock in her looks.
The horses’ hooves raised little puffs of dust in the wide street that stretched between the buildings scattered along each side. A sign announcing C RAMER ’ S D RY G OODS S TORE swayed in the light breeze that swept down from the surrounding cedar-and-pine-dotted hills cradling one side of Last Chance.
Justin’s eyes were drawn to the saloon and gambling hall across the street. Such establishments used to be his home away from home. Never again, not with Toby in his life. He’d made a pledge that no liquor would touch his lips after he assumed care of his boy, and he’d see that the promise remained intact.
The batwing doors of the establishment swung open, and a young man in rider’s garb fell onto the wooden boardwalk. Justin slowed his rig. A ruddy-faced man with red hair and a bartender’s apron stepped out and looked down at the prostrate figure. “No fightin’ in my joint, you hear? Come back when you’re feelin’ better.”
He grasped the man by the wrist and hauled him to his feet then gave him a none-too-gentle shove toward the horses hitched at the rail. “Climb on yer horse and head out. No sense in getting yerself beat to a pulp—or shot.”
The man dusted his shirt with a curse and then untied the reins of a sorrel gelding standing relaxed at the rail. He pulled the horse’s head around and stuck the toe of his boot into the stirrup then swung up into the saddle without another word. Justin shook his head, remembering the days when he’d been in the man’s situation—though never as early as mid-afternoon.
The aproned man turned his head and glanced at the slow-moving rig. He met Justin’s gaze and tipped his head. “Nice stock you’ve got, stranger.” His booming voice held a hint of an Irish brogue. “Passin’ through, or stopping for a while?”
Justin brought the team to a standstill. “Thanks. I’m stopping at Miz Rice’s
He cast a glance toward the parson, gave a sparse nod, and then looked straight at Alex. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, but his eyes lingered for a moment and a quizzical look touched his features.
Alex stared back, feeling powerless to break the gaze. A slow blush rose up her neck and warmed her cheeks. She opened her lips, unsure of what she should say, when the slap of the reins on the horses’ rumps snapped them shut again. She spun toward the church and ducked her head. She could hear the buggy moving down the road but didn’t look back. The sheriff and parson could see the pair off.
Alex directed her steps toward her waiting horse. The visit with Elizabeth would have to wait until tomorrow. She’d been gone long enough.
The man stood in the shadows of the blacksmith shop, his mind replaying the scene he’d witnessed in front of the church. A stranger in town wasn’t part of his plan, but from the looks of things, he was a drifter and would probably be moving on. The man slipped around to the back of the building and untied his horse. Time to go stir things up a bit. Alex didn’t need to get too comfortable out at that ranch, no sir.
Chapter Five
Justin slapped the reins on the team’s haunches and turned the wagon in the direction the sheriff pointed, toward the other side of the small town. He’d keep his eyes open and get the lay of the land. It wouldn’t hurt to look around before heading to the ranch. Ben Travers’s request for secrecy kept him from telling the sheriff his business. Time for that after he got Toby settled and spoke to Travers.
His thoughts drifted back to the attractive woman he’d seen at the church. She’d met his gaze without flinching and with no hint of coyness in her eyes. Molly had flirted with every man she met—offering empty promises and stirring men’s pulses. Somehow Justin didn’t get the same impression from the girl at the church—she didn’t seem the type to put a lot of stock in her looks.
The horses’ hooves raised little puffs of dust in the wide street that stretched between the buildings scattered along each side. A sign announcing C RAMER ’ S D RY G OODS S TORE swayed in the light breeze that swept down from the surrounding cedar-and-pine-dotted hills cradling one side of Last Chance.
Justin’s eyes were drawn to the saloon and gambling hall across the street. Such establishments used to be his home away from home. Never again, not with Toby in his life. He’d made a pledge that no liquor would touch his lips after he assumed care of his boy, and he’d see that the promise remained intact.
The batwing doors of the establishment swung open, and a young man in rider’s garb fell onto the wooden boardwalk. Justin slowed his rig. A ruddy-faced man with red hair and a bartender’s apron stepped out and looked down at the prostrate figure. “No fightin’ in my joint, you hear? Come back when you’re feelin’ better.”
He grasped the man by the wrist and hauled him to his feet then gave him a none-too-gentle shove toward the horses hitched at the rail. “Climb on yer horse and head out. No sense in getting yerself beat to a pulp—or shot.”
The man dusted his shirt with a curse and then untied the reins of a sorrel gelding standing relaxed at the rail. He pulled the horse’s head around and stuck the toe of his boot into the stirrup then swung up into the saddle without another word. Justin shook his head, remembering the days when he’d been in the man’s situation—though never as early as mid-afternoon.
The aproned man turned his head and glanced at the slow-moving rig. He met Justin’s gaze and tipped his head. “Nice stock you’ve got, stranger.” His booming voice held a hint of an Irish brogue. “Passin’ through, or stopping for a while?”
Justin brought the team to a standstill. “Thanks. I’m stopping at Miz Rice’s
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