Chapter 19
“Stay here.” He kept his voice low as he made his way toward the barn door, each step sending jolts of pain up his injured leg. “Out of sight until I see who it is.”
He sent a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure she wouldn’t argue. Her face had gone pale, her hands stilling on the bridle leather. She understood the danger as well as he did—strangers asking questions, looking for a red-haired woman who’d disappeared from Virginia City.
He positioned himself just inside the barn door where he could peer around the frame without being easily spotted. Two riders had halted in front of the house and now dismounted.
His gut twisted. Tom Holbrook from the mercantile. And was that…? Rufus Clark, owner of the sawmill. What in the snowy mountains were these two doing an hour and a half away from town? They both had businesses to run. Though the sawmill might be slow now that the first big snow had hit.
James glanced back at Rose, who’d come to stand behind him. “It’s two men from town. Can you hide here in the barn until they leave?”
Her lips pinched tight, but she nodded.
As much as he’d like to wrap her in his arms and hide her away, he forced himself to turn back to see what their visitors were doing.
The two men stood beside their horses, brushing snow from their coats and looking toward the house with the casual air of neighbors paying a social call. Yet nobody rode an hour and a half through mountain snow in this bitter cold just to be neighborly.
Tom Holbrook called out, his voice carrying across the yard. “Hello! Anyone home?”
James straightened and hobbled out of the barn, plastering on what he hoped was a welcoming expression despite the way his pulse hammered against his throat. Every instinct screamed at him to send these men away immediately, but turning away neighbors would only fuel their suspicions.
“Tom. Rufus.” He made his way across the yard, his walking sticks slipping a little in the frozen tracks. “This is a surprise.”
Tom Holbrook’s weathered face split into a grin. “Heard you’d taken a spill. Thought we’d ride out and see how you were mending.”
The casual friendliness in Tom’s voice didn’t fool him for a second. But he worked for a friendly tone. “That’s thoughtful of you both. Long ride in this weather.”
“Not too bad once you get moving.” Rufus Clark stamped his feet, snow flying from his boots.
“Well, I appreciate the concern.” He shifted his weight, trying to ignore the way his injured leg throbbed in the cold. “As you can see, I’m getting around well enough. Doc Morrison did good work.”
“That he does.” Tom nodded, but his eyes swept the ranch yard with the calculating gaze of a man cataloguing details. “You boys been keeping busy despite the weather?”
“Always plenty to do on a ranch.” James forced what he hoped was a natural smile. “Stock doesn’t take care of itself, snow or no snow.”
The casual conversation felt like riding a young horse for the first time—at any minute, someone could spook the horse and send them all into a tailspin.
Rufus Clark stepped forward, his gaze drifting toward the barn behind James. “Mind if we take a look at how you rebuilt after that fire? I’d like to see how the new wood matches up with what you had before.”
James’s blood turned to ice. The barn. Where Rose hid, probably listening to every word through the wooden walls.
“I’d be happy to show you around some other time.” He shifted on his walking sticks, trying to position himself between the men and that structure without being obvious about it. “But I’m afraid I’m not up for much walking today.”
“Oh, we don’t mind doing the looking ourselves.” Tom Holbrook was already moving around him. “Won’t take but a minute.”
Panic clawed at James’s throat. He couldn’t stop them—not without looking suspicious, not with his leg in this condition. All he could do was follow and pray Rose had found a good hiding place.
“The new timber work is mostly overhead.” He hobbled after them, his voice pitched loud enough to carry into the barn as a warning. “Hard to see the craftsmanship from down below.”
Tom paused at the barn entrance, glancing back with raised brows. “You sound a little hoarse, son. Hope you’re not catching something on top of that leg injury.”
He cleared his throat. “Just the cold air.”
The two men stepped into the barn, and James forced himself to follow despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to block their path.
The barn looked exactly as he’d left it—his tools scattered near the new shelves, the pile of leather Rose had been cleaning. But no sign of Rose herself.
His eyes swept the interior, trying not to be obvious about searching for her. She must be in one of the back stalls or the hay loft.
“Fine craftsmanship.” Rufus’s voice boomed in the enclosed space. “You boys did good work matching the old logs.”
James hobbled after them, scanning the shadows at the back of the barn, the stalls where Rose might be hiding. “Enoch did most of the planning. Always had an eye for building.”
Both men started to move deeper into the barn, but James stopped and straightened. “Can you come in the house a while? I’m sure Mrs. Wang has coffee on, and probably leftover pie too. Mandie will be thrilled to have visitors.”
Tom turned with a smile. “How is Lady Balfour? My wife wanted to come see her, but I thought the ride might be too much for her in the cold.”
Lady Balfour. A reminder that these two men had known them long enough to be aware of their aristocratic ties. And to remember Rose.
“She’s doing well.” His throat felt like he’d swallowed sand. “The baby’s due in a few weeks. She’ll be glad to see you both.”
He started back to the barn entrance, praying the men would follow. Each step on the walking sticks felt like an eternity, his ears straining for any sound that might give away Rose’s hiding place. A shifted board, a stifled breath, the rustle of fabric—any of it could destroy her.
“Coffee does sound good after that cold ride.” Rufus finally turned to follow James.
Relief flooded through him, but he forced himself to keep moving toward the house at the same measured pace his injury demanded. Behind him, the men’s boots crunched through the snow, their voices carrying on about the snow and the unpredictability of the mountain weather.
As they reached the porch steps, James’s mind raced. How long would they stay? What questions would they ask? And most importantly—what had brought them here in the first place?
Mandie appeared at the front door before they could knock, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure at the sight of visitors. “Mr. Holbrook. Mr. Clark. What a lovely surprise.”
James forced what he hoped looked like a natural smile as he climbed the steps. “They rode all this way to check on my leg.”
“How thoughtful.” She stepped aside to let them pass, her gracious manner reminding him so much of his mother’s natural hospitality. “Please, come in out of the cold. Mrs. Wang just put fresh coffee on.”
The great room felt stifling after the crisp air outside, or maybe that was just the weight of concern pressing on his chest.
Mrs. Wang appeared from the kitchen, her face wreathed in the polite smile she reserved for company. “Gentlemen, how nice. Come and sit. I’ll bring coffee and dried apple pie.”
Mandie led the way to the dining room, and they all settled in chairs around the table. James took a spot near Mandie, across from their guests.
Tom Holbrook settled into his chair with a satisfied sigh, brushing the last traces of snow from his coat sleeves. “This is much better. That wind cuts right through you.”
James nodded instead of growling. Every second these men lingered in his house was another second Rose remained trapped in that barn, probably huddled behind hay or crammed into one of the back stalls.
Mrs. Wang stepped from the kitchen with a tray laden with steaming coffee and thick slices of her dried apple pie, the familiar scents filling the room. Under normal circumstances, the sight would have made his mouth water. Today, his stomach churned too much.
“Mrs. Wang, you spoil us.” Tom accepted his plate with obvious relish. “My Sarah’s been trying to recreate this recipe for years, but it never comes out quite right.”
“Secret is in the spices.” Mrs. Wang smiled as she handed Tom a mug. “And good apples.”
Tom nodded. “I believe it. I still remember the very first time I tasted your apple pie. How long’s it been now. Twelve years? Thirteen?” He glanced at James, as though for confirmation.
James forced a polite tone. “We moved here fifteen years ago.”
“That’s right. You boys all came with your mother and your hired help. There was a family who lived with you…what were their names? Mother and daughter, I think.”
The coffee turned bitter on James’s tongue. Here it was—the real reason for their visit wrapped up in neighborly concern and reminiscences. He forced his expression to remain neutral. “The Prescotts. Margaret was my mother’s lady’s maid.”
“That’s it—the Prescotts.” Tom leaned forward with the air of a man settling into a good story. “Nice woman, Mrs. Prescott. Always so polite when she came to town with your mother. And that little red-haired daughter of hers—what was her name?”
The room closed in around him. Each word from Tom’s mouth was another nail in Rose’s coffin, another step toward discovery that could destroy everything.
“Rose.” Her name scraped against his throat like broken glass.
Rufus Clark looked up from his pie, his face creasing with interest. “That’s right. Quiet little thing, always trailing after you boys. What ever happened to them after your mother passed?”
James lifted his coffee cup again, buying himself a few seconds to think. The bitter liquid did nothing to wash away the taste of fear coating his tongue.
“Mrs. Prescott remarried.” Each word felt like a step across thin ice. “A man from back east, I believe. They moved away to start a new life.” Would that be enough detail to satisfy these vultures? He wouldn’t divulge any more of Rose’s story.
Tom nodded, but something in his eyes remained sharp and calculating.
“Ah, that makes sense. Fresh start and all.” He took another bite of pie, chewing thoughtfully.
“Funny thing though—that missing person notice that came through the telegraph office last week made me think of the girl. Red hair, green eyes, about nineteen years old. That matches her, doesn’t it? Do you know where they moved to?”
His chest constricted as if someone had wrapped iron bands around his ribs. “I couldn’t say.” He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to remain steady. “We lost touch after they moved away.”
He had to get rid of these men. Now.
He pushed his coffee cup and the barely touched plate of pie away from him, then focused on Rufus. “Sawmill closed for the winter?”
The man swallowed a hefty bite as he nodded. “The river’s not frozen yet, but business is slow.”
James forced himself to nod, though his throat felt tight as a noose. How much more small talk would they have to endure before these men left? Would Rose get too cold in the barn, staying hidden and still?
Thankfully, Mandie carried much of the conversation, asking about people around town. Though she’d only lived here a few months, her genteel upbringing showed through in the polite questions she offered now.
At long last, Tom pushed his empty mug toward the center of the table. “I reckon we’d better be heading back before the weather gets cold again.”
Relief flooded through James so strong he had to grip the edge of the table to keep from sagging.
He pushed himself upright with his walking sticks, his injured leg screaming in protest after sitting still for so long.
The pain was nothing compared to the desperate need to see these men gone, to get back to the barn and make sure Rose was safe.
Mandie walked them to the door, chattering about the weather and extending invitations for their wives to visit when the roads improved. Her gracious manner gave James time to position himself near the window where he could watch their departure.
The two men mounted their horses with the unhurried movements of people who had nowhere urgent to be. Tom Holbrook looked back toward the house once, his gaze lingering on the windows as though he could see through them to whatever secrets lay inside.
James forced himself to remain at the window until the riders disappeared around the bend in the trail, their dark figures swallowed by the snow-laden pines. Only then did he allow the careful mask to slip from his features.
He hobbled toward the door as fast as he could maneuver. He had to get to Rose. Would she be scared?