The Outrider (Redbourne Series #5 - Will's Story) (17 page)

Caspar reached the door first and immediately
began scratching again at the wood.

Will opened the door and turned back to invite the
boy in, but he wasn’t there.

Damn.

He looked around for any sign of where the kid
may have gone. He breathed out a laugh when he realized where he’d gone. The
tip of his shoe was visible, peeking out at the bottom corner of the building.

“A slice of fresh-baked apple pie,” Will called enticingly,
continuing his list before going in and gently closing the door behind him.

He quickly walked back to his saddle bags and
pulled out his knapsack, praying that he had caught the child’s attention. He
grabbed the chair that had been propped up against the livery office door and
placed it in plain view of the window, setting his rifle at his side, then hung
the lantern on a nail just above him. With very precise movements he peeled
back each corner of the knapsack until the bounty of food was displayed
prominently.

Movement in the window brought another smile to
Will’s face. He didn’t want to look up directly at the child, but somehow, he
knew the boy was there. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, Will finally looked
up to see the look of longing on the boy’s face, but as soon as he saw Will, he
dropped back down out of view.

Will laughed as he stood up, walked to the door,
and opened it.

The young orphan was crouched down, his arms
around his knees as he looked up.

“Would you like to come in?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

The child stepped into the livery, glancing
around as if he was researching all the exits. Will held up one finger as he
strode over to the bunk room and reached inside the door to the left where he
remembered seeing another chair. He pulled it out and set it next to his,
inviting the youngster to sit.

“Roast beef?” Will asked.

His answer came in the form of a hearty nod.

Will pulled a fresh handkerchief from his pocket
and set it on the boy’s lap, then dished up a good helping of food. The kid stood
stock still as if afraid or waiting for permission. Will didn’t know which.

“Go ahead,” Will prompted.

In seconds, the boy was trying to stuff everything
into his face all at once.

“Whoa, slow down there, partner. You’ll make
yourself sick if you eat it like that.”

“Okay,” the muffled words came from between two
very stuffed cheeks and the boy exaggerated his ability to chew.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a good
meal?”

“I don’t know,” he said once he’d been able to
swallow the food he had in his mouth.

Will raised a brow.

“Honest, I don’t remember. A day or two, maybe. Name’s
Albert, by the way.” He wiped his hand on his pants and held it out for Will to
shake.

“Hello, Albert. I’m William.”

“That’s my brother’s name,” the boy said as he
reached out for another piece of fruit jerky.

“Where is your brother?”

“Aw, he’s with ma and pa. They’re with God.” He
bowed his head, then slipped a small chunk of the jerky into his mouth.

Will had a lot of questions for Albert, but
figured they could wait until after the youth had gotten some food into his
belly.

A soft whimpering sound reached Will’s ears,
followed by a long bout of scratching against wood. He glanced over at the
door, but Caspar was not there.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Albert, lighting a
lantern to leave by the boy and taking the other on his venture to find the
dog.

When he rounded the stage, he found Caspar
scratching on the door into the coach.

“Silly dog,” he said with a quick shake of his
head. “Come on.”

Caspar turned to look at him and sat down, whining
softly.

“You don’t need to sleep inside the cabin, girl.
There are plenty of other places for you to lay your head. Come on.” He hunched
down and patted his legs, calling her to him.

Nothing.

“Oh, all right,” he finally caved and walked
toward the dog. He figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to have the pup spend the
night inside of the stage. She could probably still smell the lingering scent
of her beautiful owner.

Will grabbed the latch of the door and pulled it
open.

There, sleeping at an awkward angle, was the
red-headed beauty who haunted his dreams.

“She looks funny.”

Will whipped around to find Albert standing on
the wheel axle and glancing through the open window at Eliza Beth.

“She drools.” He seemed disinterested in her at
that point and jumped down off the stage. “You got anywhere a man can sleep around
here?” he asked with his seven-ish-year-old voice.

Will decided that he would have to come back and
deal with Eliza Beth in a moment, but for now, he needed to settle the boy. At
least until he could figure out what to do with him. Will guided him to the
bunk room and bent down to meet his face.

“Now, there are other men sleeping in there, so
you have to be real quiet. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can climb up onto the top bunk.”

Albert nodded and Will patted him on the back.

“Do you love her?” he asked in a whisper before
going all the way into the room.

“Who?”

“The drooly lady?”

“Go to bed,” Will laughed, making a shooing
motion at the boy.

Of course, he didn’t love her, but he couldn’t
deny the attraction he felt to her. Besides, they’d only just met. People
didn’t fall in love that quickly. Did they?

Will walked back to the stagecoach and leaned
against the open door. It would be a shame to wake her, but he wondered why she
hadn’t just stayed at the hotel where the beds would be much more comfortable
than being strung out over two short, squat benches inside the very cramped
enclosure of the wagon.

An idea struck and he quietly shut the door, walked
out to where he’d enjoyed a short meal with Albert, quickly collected what
remained of his food in the knapsack, and strode to the back of the livery
where the horses slept.

After a few minutes of shoveling hay into one of
the empty stalls, he grabbed his saddle blanket and the quilt his mother had made
for him and spread them out over the bed of straw he’d created.

All the way back to the stage, he tried to figure
out the best way to pull her from inside without waking her. The compartments
were much smaller than he’d remembered. As he leaned in, he found it difficult
to maneuver and realized the task was an impossible one. He couldn’t just leave
her there. She’d have a crick in her neck for days to come.

“Mrs. Jessup,” he whispered, reaching out to
touch her face, but she didn’t rouse. “Mrs. Jessup,” he called again, this time
a little more loudly.

One eye opened half-way before closing again. She
shifted in the seat and her satchel fell to the ground, spilling out all its
contents. He finally just reached in, took a hold of one of her arms and pulled
until she came willingly into his arms.

“Where are we going?” she asked sleepily.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered as he carried
her into the back stall, the lantern dangling from his fingertips. He pulled
back the quilt and gently laid her atop the makeshift bed.

She snuggled right down into the saddle blanket,
twitching her nose a little before she settled back to sleep. “Thank you,” she
muttered quietly.

Will tucked the quilt up around her neck and
shoulders, then stood back and nodded in satisfaction. At least it would be
more comfortable and warm than the benches in the stage’s riding compartment.

When he returned to pick up the contents of the
satchel he had arbitrarily dumped all over the floor of the compartment, he
found that she was travelling very light. His sister Hannah would pack more
than this for a trip into town and here this woman was moving across the
country to start a new life. He figured she must have lost a lot when Ferg’s
place had burned to the ground.

Will reached into the compartment for the near
empty bag and stuffed the brown paper-wrapped package back inside. A necklace
with a large ruby pendant splayed across the floor and he picked it up, draping
it over his hand. If it were real, it would have to be worth quite a bit. He
dropped it back into the satchel, then reached down to collect several coins
that had fallen to the floor.

Surely, the woman didn’t just carry her money
loosely in her satchel, so he looked around for some type of a coin purse. He
decided it must still be inside the bag. She couldn’t possibly be travelling
cross country with only a few coins to her name.

Then, it dawned on him. The woman barely had two
pennies to rub together. No wonder she had chosen not to sleep in the hotel
last night. He shook his head, picking up a couple of books and photographs
that had fallen.

He found a nice pocket at the side of the bag,
but as he went to tuck the photographs inside, there, staring back at him were Sterling
Archer, his wife, two sons, and Eliza Beth, wearing the same necklace he’d
placed in the bag.

The red-headed woman who’d worked her way into
his waking thoughts was indeed Elizabeth Archer. He’d known it was a
possibility, but somehow the truth of it felt like a punch to the gut. He held
the photograph so tightly that he had to fight with himself in order to resist
the urge to crumple it in his hands and throw it in her face.

What did she want with him? Had her father sent
her? This was low, even for Sterling Archer and why have her pretend to be a
mail-order-bride? How could she have possibly known he would take this job?
There were so many questions that needed answers, but for now, he still had a
job to do. He picked up his rifle, placed his hat firmly on top of his head,
and set out into the cool evening breeze. A brisk walk around the perimeter of
the livery was just what he needed to clear his head.

Elizabeth Archer.

Damn.

Saturday

Elizabeth awoke to the wet, slobbery kisses of
her coonhound.

“Caspar,” she said, pushing the dog from her
face.

It took a moment for her to remember where she
was, then both eyes shot wide open and she sat up straight atop a large pile of
hay. Her hand flew to her heart and she breathed a sigh of relief that the
hound had made it into town unscathed.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep
in the stagecoach passenger compartment. Then, a hazy recollection of William
Redbourne swarmed inside of her head. He’d done this. For her. She smiled.

The morning was quite chilly, so Elizabeth pulled
the quilt up around her shoulders. She sniffed the material. It had to be
Will’s. It smelled like the soap he carried. She flopped back down onto the
makeshift bedding. Why did the man have to be so attractive? It wasn’t just his
chiseled features and strong physique, but his protectiveness, his manners.

If she hadn’t seen him fight in the ring, she
would say he was a gentle man in every sense of the word, but she
had
seen him fight. Had seen the damage his fists could do to another person. He
was beautiful. A man to be reckoned with. And somehow, that excited her and
made her feel alive—safe, for the first time in a long time, but it also scared
her a little. She needed to tell Will the truth. To clear the air between them.

She stayed put for a few more moments, then
rolled off the bed—not considering what ‘presents’ may await her on the floor
of a horse’s stall. She pulled herself to her feet and, to her delight, she avoided
any mishaps with manure.

In a matter of minutes, she’d folded both
blankets and strung them over her arms as she walked up to the front of the
livery.

“Hello,” she called, but no one answered. She
took a few more steps, surprised at how dark the room appeared for the morning
hours. She’d seen the sun peeking through one of the slats in the livery’s
walls, so she knew she couldn’t be mistaken about the time.

“Oh, hello,” a balding man with a short, white
apron said as he walked out of the livery office. “You must be the young woman
Mr. Redbourne was speaking of. You’re travelling west on the stage?”

She nodded. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s just me and Nathanial around most of the
time. Your Mr. Glenn has gone down to the restaurant for some breakfast and the
outriders just stepped outside.”

The clock on the side of the wall struck seven.

“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am. It is time to open
my doors,” he said as he walked to the front of the building.

It took her a moment to remember that Mr. Glenn
was the stagecoach driver. Breakfast sounded nice, but she figured that she
would be all right to wait until supper was served on the train. For now, she
couldn’t wait to find Will and thank him for his consideration with the hay bed.
And the quilt.

The liveryman grabbed ahold of one of the enormous
barn-like doors and swung it wide, securing it to one of the posts at the
opposite end of the livery, then moved to do the same with the other.

The morning rays poured into the stable like water
from her mother’s crystal vase. Elizabeth loved the sunshine. It reflected her
cheery mood. She moved to the front of the building and leaned against the
doorframe. Nothing could dampen a day like today.

She sucked in a breath as Will strode with
purpose up the wooden planks that served as a boardwalk in this little town. As
he moved toward her in his tan-colored shirt and black suspenders her whole
chest seemed to fill with light.

“Good morning,” she said as he passed her by
without the slightest acknowledgement.

Maybe he didn’t see me
, she rationalized and
hurried to catch up with him.

“I wanted to thank you,” she started, moving her
feet as fast as she could to keep up, “for the blankets last night. It was very
kind o—”

“Mr. McFadden,” Will said, ignoring her
completely and speaking to the liveryman, “thank you for your hospitality. I
know we came in late last night, but we appreciate the accommodations.” He
pulled something from his pocket and placed it in the stableman’s
hand—presumably money.

“I’m glad I could be of service. It’s been a
pleasure doing business with you.” The man nodded and walked back into his
office.

“Paulie,” Will called out to the man pacing back
and forth in front of the livery, “why don’t you head down to the hotel and
tell the ladies that it is time to go,” he said, excusing the other guard from
his sentry duty.

“As I was saying,” Elizabeth tried again, but
Will turned on his heel and headed toward the back of the building toward the
stalls.

She stood there as he prepared his horse to ride,
smiling to herself as he looked around for the saddle blanket.

“Are you looking for this?” she asked, holding it
up.

He recognized her presence for the first time this
morning, making eye contact.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly as he walked toward
her. He reached out for it, but she still held on until he met her eyes again.

“What’s wrong with you?”

It took a moment before he responded, as if he were
debating what he should say.

“I’m just trying to stay on your precious
schedule.” The overt anger in his voice confused her, but she let go of the
saddle blanket all the same.

“I do not know what has happened to make you so
angry with me,
Mr. Redbourne,”
she said, a little fire in her voice, “but
I wanted to thank you for...for everything.”

He looked at her, the hardness in his eyes
startling her. “You are most welcome,
Miss Archer
.”

Elizabeth blinked.

He knew.

Heat filled her face and seeped down into her
neck.

“Mr. Redbourne…” She didn’t know what to say, so
she fumbled with the quilt still in her arms. “Let me explain.” She raised her
chin into the air.

“Don’t bother. There’s nothing to explain,” he
bit back at her. “I’m supposed to be in Boston buying a beautiful ship that will
give me the opportunity of a lifetime, but instead, I am here with you.” He
threw his saddle over his horse’s back and worked at fastening the straps.
“Look, I have a job to do and that is to get you and the others on the train in
Kansas City, and that is exactly what I am going to do. Nothing more. Nothing
less.”

“I will not make excuses for my choices,” she
replied coolly. Her jaw clenched together and she wanted to say something snide
back to him, but thought better of it. A lady was better than that. “Thank you
again for all of your help…”
That was good
. “But I assure you, I require
nothing further from you.” She draped the quilt over the stall gate and walked
away—a single tear threatening to fall down her face. She wiped it away briskly,
straightened her gait, and headed for the stage.

This was looking to be the longest ride of her
life. At least it would be over in a couple of hours.

“Damn!”

Will threw the grooming brush against the far
wall.

“Mama said curse words show a person’s lack of
proper schooling.”

Will turned to see the young orphan boy he’d encountered
last night standing at the base of the stall staring up at him, Caspar
protectively at his side.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, bothered that he
could not remove the irritation from his voice.

“Mama also said sometimes a man fights with the
people he loves most.”

“I don’t love her, Albert.”

“Why not? She’s awfully pretty.”

He did not want to answer the boy’s questions any
more. “How did you sleep? Are you hungry?”

“I think there was a bear in the room last night.
He growled awful loud.”

Will laughed, feeling better for the first time
this morning. “Nah, I think that was just Old Ellis. He kind of sounds like a
bear.”

Will took Indy by the reins and led him out of
the stall and into the main hall of the livery next to the stagecoach.

Paulie had returned with Opal and Gertrude, and
Ellis was helping them load their bags back on top of the wagon. Elizabeth was
already seated inside, reading one of her books as if she hadn’t a care in the
world. It was hard to imagine the daughter of Sterling Archer as a mail-order-bride
and a pit formed in his stomach.

He turned to Albert. “What do you say we head
over to the restaurant and get some breakfast?” They would be leaving soon and
he needed to find somewhere for the boy to go. Somewhere where he’d be safe and
well taken care of, and he needed time he didn’t have to find that.

“I don’t wanna put you out none,” Albert said,
craning his neck to look up at him, his bravado shining through admirably.

“I think I’ll manage.” Will laughed. “Come on.”
He stopped next to Ellis. “I’ll be back shortly. You and Paulie have everything
under control here.”

“Looks like you found yourself another stray,”
Ellis snorted.

Will placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder. “Don’t
listen to him. He’s just jealous I make friends wherever I go.”

“Eh, get outta here.” Ellis waved his hand in the
direction of the café. “But don’t be too long,” he called after them as they
headed over to the restaurant, followed closely by Caspar.

When they arrived at the eatery, Will pulled the
last piece of meat jerky from his pocket and placed it on the boardwalk in
front of the pup before they walked inside.

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest things I
ever seen,” the waitress said as she walked up to their table. She raised an
eye at Will and smiled coyly.

“We’ll take the special with a large glass of
milk for my friend, here,” Will said with a wink at Albert.

“One hearty plate of flapjacks and bacon coming
right up.”

“Albert,” Will started once they settled down
into their seats, “where have you been sleeping at night?” The boy had to have
run away from somewhere in town. He hoped the sheriff would know where to find
them.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Here and there,
I guess.”

“How long have you been alone?”

“Willie died last year and I’ve been pretty much
on my own ever since.”

The woman brought a large glass of milk and set
it down in front of Albert. He looked up at Will as if waiting for permission.

Will nodded.

Albert picked up the glass and started to drink—and
didn’t stop until the very last drop was gone.

Will raised a hand to get the woman’s attention.
“We’ll have another please.”

Albert beamed as he used the back of his arm to
wipe the milk-made moustache off his upper lip.

How was he supposed to find a place for Albert to
go in the next half hour? Will didn’t know the people in this little town. And,
he had a job to do, which did not include finding homes for orphans, so, why
did he feel responsible for this kid?

Once the food had been placed on the table and
another glass of milk in front of Albert, Will watched as the young boy started
shoveling flapjacks into his mouth. After a moment, Albert glanced up at him.
He sat up straight, wiped the sides of his mouth with a napkin, and swallowed
the food already in his mouth. With great care, the boy picked up his fork to
cut off a small piece of the hotcake.