Forever and Always (Stagecoach to Golden Valley #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Her son was missing!

Dianne White’s heart leaped to her throat, and stuck there. She scanned her surroundings. Where would a curious five-year-old go? Trees pressed to the edges of the clearing where the way station stood. With the underbrush so thick, Eddie could be four steps away, and she wouldn’t see him.

Behind her, harnesses rattled, and men called as they unhitched one set of horses and replaced them with another, preparing the stagecoach to continue its journey to Golden Valley. She needed to be on that coach.

“Eddie! Come to Mama.” The dense forest sucked up the sound of her voice.

No little boy called out an answer or trotted from the bushes.

She called again as she headed to the crowding trees.

“Ma’am?”

The driver’s voice stopped her.

“Ma’am, I can only wait a few minutes. My schedule—”

“I understand. He can’t have gone far.” She parted the bushes and stepped onto leafy, dank ground.

Eddie wasn’t there. He didn’t squat down to examine a bug or twig or something else that interested him.

“Eddie!” The word choked from her throat and drifted as far as the overhead leaves.

A path of sorts meandered through the trees. Could a small shoe have made that faint print? She hurried along after it, continually calling for her little son.

The quietness became overpowering, and she paused, straining for any sound to direct her in the right direction.

Birds chattered and squawked in the rustling trees.

The wind sighed through the branches. Wait.

It might be only her imagination, but she believed—wanted to believe—that in the distance, a tiny voice called, “Mama.”

Battling back the branches, she followed the narrow trail.

Another sound came to her. The gurgle of rushing water. Her heart surged up to her mouth, and she quickened her pace. Lord, no, not a river. Please keep my son safe. Please.

Branches caught at her sleeves. Leaves tangled in her hair.

She charged onward. Light beckoned beyond the dark trees.

Flat rocks lay ahead. Yellow flowers grew in the soil to the side.

Sprigs of grass fluttered in the breeze.

And five feet below ran a narrow band of water.

Not more than ten feet across but deep enough and furious enough to carry branches.

Clinging to an overhanging tree was her son.

“Eddie. Hang on. I’m coming.” Rocks twisted her feet.

Brambles caught at her skirt and skin. They didn’t slow her as she scrambled down the hill to the water’s edge.

Gripping the tree, she stretched as far as she could.

Eddie lifted his hand, reaching for her.

His legs swept downstream, threatening to carry him away. Her chest hurt as she held her breath.

“Hold on. I’ll get you.” She eased closer. Her feet sank in the wet ground. Still, Eddie was not within reach. Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the water and gasped at the iciness.

The water rose to her ankles and then to her calves. As she eased closer, her skirts swirled around her legs, tugging at her. She had to save Eddie before the water dragged him away. Dragged them both away with no one to rescue them.

She fought the current, grabbed him, and struggled back to the shore. There, she collapsed on the grass, Eddie safe in her arms.

“Son, you’re like ice.”

His teeth chattered. He tried to answer, but his words were garbled.

“I need to get you warm.” Sitting up, she looked around, Eddie held tightly in her arms. His cold little body chilled her to the core. How far were they from the way station? She couldn’t recollect how long she’d rushed through the bushes. Could she even find the trail she’d followed?

Wait. What was that smell? Was it smoke?

She jerked to her feet and sniffed. Definitely smoke. Woodsmoke. A fire, but was it in a fireplace or in the forest? Her arms tightened around her son. How fast could she run holding him?

Struggling under his weight, she scrambled up the rocky incline and stopped to study her surroundings. There. Smoke came from a log cabin’s chimney in the near distance. A promise of warmth.

She hitched Eddie to her hip and made her way in that direction. Following a vague trail, she slid down a steep path, fought through low bushes in a narrow valley, and panted up the other side, Eddie clinging to her neck and whimpering.

“We’ll soon be warm, son.” Please, God, don’t let him get sick.

A clearing opened up before them. Besides the log cabin, there were two outbuildings.

A horse watched her before one of them. A fur was stretched on the other’s wall.

An ax was half buried in a nearby wooden stump, the sight sending a shiver through her that had less to do with the cold of her son and more to do with fearful caution.

She’d heard plenty of tales about men who retreated to the woods.

Men who didn’t value human life. Didn’t care for company.

They were often described as mad. What sort of person—presumably a man—lived here?

Though it could be a woman. Like the story shared on the stagecoach about Crazy Jane, that’s what they called her.

Crazy as a loon. Mad as a rabid dog. She’d been accused of murdering her husband in his sleep.

No one dared venture close enough to her hovel to arrest her.

Those who had tried were buried in the nearest cemetery. Or were never heard from again.

She gulped back an inadequate breath.

“Mama?” Eddie’s pitiful cry and his need for warmth overcame all else.

“I’ll find us shelter.” She crossed to the ax, yanked it from the wood, and thus armed, strode toward the cabin. With no free hand to knock with, she banged the ax on the door.

It opened before she could land a second blow.

It wasn’t Crazy Jane.

Broad of shoulder, the man towered over her. She sucked back her lips. A strong man. His blue eyes were steady, unblinking, and demanding. The paler skin rimming his blond hairline suggested it’d been recently trimmed. His mouth pulled into a frown that furrowed lines away from his eyes.

“You’ve got my ax.” He tipped his head toward the item.

“In case I need it.” Warning hardened her words.

They stared at each other, neither relenting an inch.

“I saw the smoke.”

He nodded.

“My son needs to be warmed up.”

The man’s gaze slid toward Eddie. “His lips are blue.”

“He’s cold. I need to borrow your fire.” She left off studying the man to indicate the fireplace.

“Be my guest.” The man stepped aside and waved them past.

“Thank you.” She eased forward and set Eddie on the floor before the blaze. The ax rested by her knee as she stripped him of his wet clothing and hung each item from hooks on the mantel where they dripped and steamed.

She spied a knit blanket on the nearby comfy-looking chair and swept it up to wrap around Eddie.

“What happened to him?” Her host’s deep voice drew her attention.

“He fell into the river.” She nudged the ax, reminding both of them that she was prepared to defend herself.

“Weren’t you watching him?”

“There’s no need to use that accusatory tone.

I turned my back on him for a minute, and he was gone.

” What did a man living alone in the woods know about inquisitive little boys?

She refocused on Eddie. “Son, you know better than to run off like that. You almost—” She couldn’t finish.

Couldn’t bring the word to her mouth. What would she do if he drowned?

“Sorry, Mama.”

At the quiver in his voice, she hugged him. “I’m glad you’re safe and sound.”

The man of the house sat on the nearby wooden armchair from which she’d plucked the knit blanket.

Dianne ignored him, though she shifted closer to the trusty ax. Lest either of them forget she was armed and dangerous.

She needed Eddie warmed up so they could return to the way station. No doubt the stagecoach had long since departed, but another would come along sooner or later.

“I have to ask, where did you come from, and how did you end up here?”

She bristled at his faintly critical curiosity. Not that she blamed him. She never should’ve let Eddie out of her sight. Not even to use the outhouse. “I’m on my way to Golden Valley.”

“On the stagecoach, I assume.”

She shrugged. This was not information he needed. Her skirts steamed, and her wet shoes squeaked with every movement. A minor inconvenience. “As soon as Eddie is warmed up, we’ll be on our way.”

“The stagecoach is waiting for you?”

His mild tone didn’t fool her. Not for one minute. He knew as well as she and every passenger and resident west of Manitoba that the stagecoach waited for no one. Same with trains.

“There’ll be another one coming along shortly.

” Shortly being a relative term. Not long compared to eternity.

Forever measured by her urgency. She’d had quite enough of traveling and was ready to settle down in the home awaiting her.

A smile tugged at her lips—surely the reason the man opposite her narrowed his eyes.

“Guess everyone has a different understanding of ‘shortly.’”

His echo of her thoughts curved her lips upward even more. She ducked her head so he wouldn’t spot her amusement. He must see her as hard, ready to defend, even a little bit like—

“You ever hear of Crazy Jane?” She nudged the ax forward.

The man blinked, looked from her weapon back to her, and then hooted with laughter. When he could talk, he asked, “Who told you about her?”

Dianne shrugged. It didn’t matter who, only that he recognized the warning.

The man’s eyes widened. Leaning forward, he whispered, “For all you know, this could be Crazy Jane’s cabin. Did you think of that?”

Although her muscles clenched and her lips pressed together, she wouldn’t reveal a single degree of her trepidation.

“From what I understand that woman doesn’t care for men.” Not even young, broad-shouldered ones.

“People change.”

Dianne turned Eddie around under the blanket so his backside faced the heat. “Are you getting warm?” she asked him.