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“Evening, Miss Esther.” Danny pushed his hat back, revealing dark blond hair and sun-browned skin. His pale blue eyes pierced her, perusing her from hem to hairline, pausing a couple of times on their journey. Heat rushed to Esther’s cheeks. “Nice night.”
She rubbed her hands against the sides of her skirts, gripping the faded fabric. He was insolent, full of bravado in front of his friends. He swung out of the saddle and removed his hat.
“You’re looking fine tonight, Miss Esther. You ready to take my father’s offer?”
“I’ve already declined his offer too many times to count.”
He rubbed his thin mustache in that gesture she knew so well, the one that preceded some remark she would hate.
“Only a matter of time. The tax man is coming around.” He stuck his thumbs into his back pockets, insolent as he eyed the buildings. “Your ranch is going downhill on a fast horse. You could always save my pa the purchase price and just marry me.” He winked and gave her a smirk. “You should marry me. After all, it’s what your daddy wanted, and mine, too.”
She gritted her teeth. “Leave your laundry if you’re going to. And you still owe me for last week’s. I don’t work on credit, so don’t forget to pay up before you go. As to your continued insistence that we marry, I wouldn’t have you if you came with a money-back guarantee.”
One of the men laughed, and a flush charged up Danny’s cheeks. His eyes snapped, and he leaped onto the porch, grabbing her wrist and hauling her up against him.
“Let me loose.” She spoke through tight lips, unwilling to let him know how much he was hurting her...and scaring her.
“It’s high time someone taught you a lesson, little lady.” His breath scoured her cheek. He smelled of pomade and aftershave and sweat and horse.
From behind her, a low growl crawled over her skin, freezing her blood. Rip bounded out of the house, ears flat against his head, teeth bared. His body crouched to spring, every muscle bulging under his brindled coat.
Danny dropped her wrist like a hot rock. He backed up a step, hands held low, eyes wide. “Whoa. When did you get him?” He stared at the dog, easing back another step.
Esther pressed herself against the front wall of the house. Rip advanced on Danny, head low.
“That’s enough.” One of the riders cocked his pistol. “Call him off, ma’am.”
The sight of his drawn gun sent a sick shiver through her. Why hadn’t she bitten her tongue? She knew what Danny could be like. Things escalating had been her fault.
Would the dog obey her? “Rip.”
The canine stopped advancing but didn’t cease his growling.
“Rip. Come.” She patted her leg.
Slowly rising from his crouch, relaxing his lips to cover his teeth once more, Rip sidled to her, never taking his eyes off Danny. Esther risked touching the dog’s head. “Good boy.”
Danny’s face was a hard mask. “Next time you sic that dog on me, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes.”
“I’d think twice about that if I was you.” Thomas’s voice came from the side of the house, and he rounded the corner, pistol trained on Danny. His dark eyes glittered, and his hand was steady.
Esther’s heart lurched. Thomas with his gun in his hand. Her view narrowed, and her heart thrummed so loudly in her ears it was almost as if she was under water. The gun filled her vision.
“Beaufort? I hadn’t heard you were back.” Danny’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Thomas to Esther and back again. Thomas and Danny hadn’t gotten along too well back when Thomas was a hand here. Of course, not too many people got along with Danny, not unless his father paid them to.
“I didn’t feel the need to check in with you first, Newton.” Thomas’s gun and gaze didn’t waver. Esther gripped the doorframe to steady herself.
“You just passing through, or are you staying on?”
“If you can explain how it’s any of your business, I’ll tell you my plans,” Thomas said, his eyes dark and intent.
Danny stood still a moment, as if gauging his situation, and then edged off the porch. “Boys, we’re wastin’ time. Throw your bags down and let’s mosey. We’re going to have us a night on the town.”
Esther pressed her hand to her middle, thankful that in a few moments they would be gone. One by one they pitched their duffel bags onto the porch. Both Thomas and the dog regarded them all as if memorizing their faces, and a shiver skittered down Esther’s spine and settled in her knees.
“I believe the lady mentioned a payment that’s due?” Thomas’s soft voice sliced the air like a saber.
Danny froze, scowling and sizing Thomas up. Finally, he dug into his vest pocket, removed a coin and flipped it Esther’s way. Thomas’s hand shot out and caught it before she could react, holding it up. A silver dollar.
“That the right amount?”
She nodded. “That will cover what he owes and this week’s laundry.”
“What about the rest of them?”
“They’re current.”
“Fair enough. Time for you boys to go.” Thomas motioned with his pistol toward their horses. The gun was like an extension of his hand. “And when you come back, you’ll mind your manners, I’m sure.”
The men were just preparing to mount up when a weak cry came from the house. The baby! She’d clean forgotten about him.
Danny jerked around at the sound. “What’s that?”
Thomas stepped in front of Esther, nudging her backward toward the open doorway. She put her hand on his shoulder and stood on tiptoe to keep her eye on Danny.
Rip trotted into the house and then emerged again with a whine. The infant’s cry grew louder and unmistakable.
“A baby? Where’d you get a baby, Esther Jensen?” Danny shouted, making Rip growl and lower his head once more.
Thomas stood his ground. “I believe it’s past time for you boys to be moving along.”
Danny’s eyes darted from Thomas to Esther and back again, calculating. “If you’re figuring to horn in here, Beaufort, you’d best be the one moving along.” He poked his boot into his stirrup and swung into the saddle. “I aim to have this ranch one way or another, and soon. I don’t know where that brat came from, or how long you’re staying, but you both better be gone pronto.” He sunk his spurs into his horse’s sides, and the animal surged into a gallop, the rest of the men following, sending clouds of dust into the air.
Esther let out her breath, tension trickling away. When she turned to go to the crying infant, Thomas followed.
“What’s going on here, Esther? Why is Danny Newton after your ranch? And why does he think he can get it?” Thomas holstered his weapon and crossed his arms.
Esther wrapped the baby in the towel again and lifted him to her shoulder, crooning to him, trying to ignore the panicked flipping of her heart. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can’t handle.” Hopefully he hadn’t overheard about the taxes coming due. Esther had practiced the most severe economy this year, and she had almost enough to meet the tax bill, barring any unforeseen events, but that was her problem, not Thomas’s.
After all, he’d be gone soon.
* * *
Thomas had his hands full with the frisky team. Clearly it had been a while since they’d been harnessed and hitched. He remembered them from his time as a ranch hand. The bay was shaggy and the black scruffy, and both could use a good currying and trip to the blacksmith, but he used a firm voice and steady hand, and they gradually gentled.
He brought the horses and buckboard around the house, still tense from the encounter with Danny Newton and his crew. Thomas and Danny had never been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies, either. How often did Esther have to deal with customers treating her poorly? And why was Danny hoping to get his hands on her property?
The news that Elihu Jensen was dead had rocked him. When Thomas had ridden away five years ago, the rancher had been in good health, with a profitable ranch and big plans for his daughter’s future. Plans that hadn’t included Thomas.
The condition of the Double J shocked Thomas. The disrepair and despair everywhere was a punch in the gut. The weather in south-central Texas could be hard on buildings and equipment, but this seemed extreme for only five years. If he was going to stay, he could fix up a few things. Too bad he couldn’t spare the time. Jase Swindell’s trail grew colder by the minute. He might be halfway to the Rio Grande by now.
Esther emerged from the house, the baby in her arms. Her eyes looked pensive, and a little furrow had developed between her eyebrows. Thomas helped her into the rig; the touch of her hand in his sent a familiar jolt up his arm. Climbing aboard himself, he glanced at her hands as he picked up the reins. They were so different than when he’d first known her. Then they had been pale and slender, moving constantly when she spoke. Often she wore fingerless lace gloves, wielding a fan or some fancy needlework as she rocked on the porch in the evening. Now they were reddened and work worn, the hands of a woman older than the twenty-four years he knew her to be.
He chirruped to the horses, slapping the lines.
Rip rode in the back, sticking his snout between Thomas and Esther from time to time, sniffing the wind. Sunshine slanted toward the horizon as dusk approached, and Thomas drove into town from the south, turning right onto the main street. He studied Silar Falls, comparing it to his memory.
Not much appeared to have changed, perhaps a couple of new businesses, but on the surface, things seemed the same.
The brightest lights shone from Big Aggie’s Saloon, halfway down the block. He recognized Danny Newton’s horse tied at the hitching post out front. The saddle and harness shop had closed for the day, and the telegraph office was shut up tight. One team and wagon waited down by the livery. At the west end of the street, the church steeple pierced the pink and orange sky.
Thomas hopped down and tethered the team before circling the buckboard to help Esther alight. She didn’t meet his eyes, keeping her head down and walking up the steps to the store. He followed and reached the door in time to open it for her.
As they stepped inside, Rip followed, tail wagging, determined to stick close to Esther and the baby. The proprietor, Frank Clements, looked up from his ledger. “Evening, Miss Esther. Don’t often see you at this time of day. I was about to close up and head upstairs.” He tucked his pencil behind his ear, and Thomas smiled at the gesture he remembered so well. The shopkeeper’s eyes widened when he noticed the bundle Esther carried, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw the dog.
Thomas held out his hand. “Hello, Frank. Been a while. How’s your wife?”
The shopkeeper blinked, tearing his gaze away from Esther and Rip. “Well, as I live and breathe. Thomas Beaufort!” A smile stretched his cheeks. “How long has it been, son?”
“Too long.” Thomas shook his hand, happy to be remembered, though he’d only spent one summer in Silar Falls. “Glad we made it in before you closed. We need to pick up a few things.” Glancing around, he hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. Nothing seemed to have changed inside the mercantile, either. The candy jars still sat beside the glass display case of fans and scarves and combs. Canned goods stood in pyramids on the shelves behind. The sharp tang of vinegar from the pickle barrel mixed with the scent of beeswax polish and new boots.
Thomas snapped his fingers and motioned to Rip to lie down. The big dog dropped to his belly, watching and waiting for the next command. “Wait there and don’t make a nuisance of yourself, boy.”
Esther eyed the stock on the shelves, her lips pressed together. The baby slept sweetly in her arms, and she gently rocked from side to side. Thomas wondered if she was even aware she was swaying.
“What can I do for you?” Frank pressed his hands on the countertop, leaning forward, the lamplight gleaming off his bald dome. He was clearly curious about the baby, but he didn’t ask. From what Thomas remembered about Frank, the store owner didn’t have to ask. If he waited, the information he wanted usually flowed his way. That or his wife ferreted it out.
“Esther?” Thomas turned to find her fingering a bolt of fabric, a wistful expression on her face.
She started and then collected herself. “Frank, we need some supplies for this baby.”
“Be glad to help. Flannel, canned milk? Bonnets and booties?” Frank asked.
“Do you have any diapers made up? And some sleeping gowns?” Esther asked.
Frank shook his head. “I have flannel lengths for sewing them up yourself, but nothing ready-made.”
Esther sent Thomas a what-do-you-want-to-do look.
“Can you sew?” He tried to remember if he’d ever seen her making garments. Seemed to him she’d been a fair hand at fancy needlepoint stitching, but her dresses and such had come from a dressmaker. He’d been told by her father to drive her into town several times for fittings and the like.
“Yes, I can sew.”
“Get whatever she needs, Frank.” Thomas stifled a yawn as weariness crept over him. He hadn’t slept in more than forty-eight hours, and his eyes felt like he’d rubbed them full of sand. “I’ll have a look around while you pull things together for Esther.”
He perused the groceries, remembering how bare Esther’s cupboard had been when he’d fetched the lone can of milk off her shelf. She was doing him a mighty big favor. The least he could do was add to her larder. If she would let him. She could be a proud little minx.
Edging past a table full of ready-made menswear, he paused beside a shelf holding lengths of fabric, letting his rough hand trail across the blues and purples and yellows. The bolt Esther had been touching caught his attention. Pale blue with little pink flowers scattered over it. A smile tugged at his lips. Wouldn’t Esther look something in a dress made of this?
From across the store, Thomas studied her, taking in her clothing. She wore a greenish dress so faded from washing it was almost gray. It was too big for her, drooping on her slender frame. The scuffed tips of a pair of sturdy boots peeked out from beneath her hem. And she wore no hat or bonnet. When he’d known her before, she’d worn pretty gowns with lots of ruffles and lace, and she had shoes and parasols to match. Gloves and bonnets and fans. Her father had given her everything she could want. He remembered back to the blue dress she’d worn to the church social the night before he left Silar Falls. Her hair had been all piled up, and her eyes shone. Every young man in the place, Thomas included, couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Maybe he should’ve stood up to her father all those years ago. When Elihu Jensen had learned that one of his hired hands was falling for his lovely daughter, he’d taken Thomas aside and given him an ultimatum: ride on and leave Esther alone, or be run off.
“You’re penniless. There is no way you can support my daughter. You’re a nobody, and I have bigger plans for her. Pick up your pay and your bedroll and clear out. She’s too young to know her own mind right now, and she deserves better than a saddle tramp.”
And because he’d been young and impressionable, Thomas had listened. He hadn’t been in a position then to support a wife, certainly not one as well off as Esther had been. He had no skills beyond cowboying. And he loved Esther and wanted the best for her. Though it had about killed him to leave her, he’d gone. He’d become a bounty hunter after learning new skills, but he’d never forgotten her.
He’d known then he wasn’t good enough for her, that she deserved better than him. He was a nobody who didn’t even know who his parents were. A foundling, a drifter. As a bounty hunter, he was accustomed to being seen as a necessary evil, moving on the outskirts of society, a manhunter who most folks didn’t want to associate with.
And still not good enough for Esther Jensen.
“How many yards of this flannel?” Frank asked Esther.
She shifted the baby to her shoulder. “I don’t know. How much do you recommend? We need diapers and gowns and blankets.”
“Let’s call in the expert.” Frank headed for the stairs at the back of the store and hollered up. “Trudy? Can you come down for a minute?”
Frank’s tiny wife bustled down the steps, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Yes?” Her dark eyes darted quickly, lighting on Esther. “Why, Esther Jensen, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been weeks, child. You don’t come in nearly often enough. And who is that there with you? A baby? My lands, child. Where did you get yourself a baby?” She embraced Esther and then hugged her again.
“He’s an orphan.” Esther’s arms tightened around the boy. “We’re looking after him until Thomas can find his people.”
“Thomas Beaufort.” Trudy’s smile lit the store. He snatched off his hat and nodded as she advanced on him with her arms outstretched. Trudy hugged everybody, he recalled. “I remember you. It’s good to see you back in these parts. Frank told me he heard you had a big arrest not too long ago. The Burton Boys? I try to keep up on all the news, especially when it’s about someone I know.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Not only had he captured the four-man gang of outlaws, he’d earned himself a hefty bounty in the process.
“Trudy.” Frank held up a length of flannel. “They need to outfit the little guy, and you’d know what they need better than I would.”
“Of course, of course. Let me see.” Trudy, though bird-like and small, tended to blow through a room like a tornado. Esther was bustled over to the dry goods counter, and Trudy exclaimed over the baby, putting her arm around Esther’s waist and talking nineteen to the dozen.
“Isn’t he beautiful? And you need a complete layette? Of course you do, what with this little sweetheart being dropped in your lap, as it were. I remember when my first was born. I didn’t have so much as a safety pin to call my own, traveling in that bouncy wagon across the plains. I cut up my best flannel petticoat to make diapers.” She continued on, talking and whisking bolts of fabric onto the counter. Her shears snicked as quickly as her tongue, cutting lengths and folding them. “Do you need me to include a pattern for the gowns? Thread, needles, bias tape? Of course you do. I have just the thing.”
With the women occupied, Thomas motioned for Frank to join him. He had questions he didn’t want anyone overhearing.
“Frank, you still know everybody in town?” Thomas reached for a couple of cans of peaches and set them on the counter.
The storekeeper picked up a feather duster and flicked it over a row of McGuffey readers. “Can’t think of anybody I don’t know.” He grinned. “Course, if I could think of them, I’d know ’em, right?”
“Has anybody heard anything about Jase Swindell lately?” Thomas kept his voice low.
Frank stopped dusting. “That who you’re after now? Jase Swindell?”
Thomas nodded. “Off and on for almost a year. Since he killed a guard while busting out of Huntsville. Seems he runs to Mexico, but he doesn’t stay there. Keeps coming back north.” The liaison with the woman was most likely responsible for that. Now that she was dead, would Swindell come back to Texas ever again?
“We heard about the escape.” Scratching his chin, Frank thought hard. “If he’s been anywhere in the county, I haven’t gotten wind of it. When him and his gang got caught the first time, the rest of his kin around here lit a shuck for the hills, cleared out. Only one left is his sister, Regina. And she isn’t right in the head, from what I hear. Does her shopping over in Spillville, so I don’t hear much about her.”
“Nobody else who used to run with the Swindells? Nobody around here who would hide him?”
“No, can’t think of anybody. He left a lot of victims and no friends hereabouts. Like Esther, poor thing. You could’ve pushed me over with a twig when I heard her pa shot himself.”
