Chapter 5
The leather reins had frozen stiff between Thomas’s fingers, cold enough to bite through his gloves.
He guided the team out of the livery’s wide doors, the wagon bed creaking under the weight of supplies they’d loaded last night. The horses’ breath formed white clouds in the barely dawn air, and their hooves rang sharp against the frozen ground.
Butte still slept around him—most of it, anyway. A few workers stumbled along the street, heading toward the mine shafts. Smoke curled from chimneys against a sky the color of old pewter.
The cold settled into his bruised ribs with every breath, a dull ache that matched the throb in his cheek. He’d barely slept, what little he managed punctuated by dreams of Clara McKinney’s devastated face and Kate McKinney’s razor-sharp eyes.
Two women. His brothers had ordered him one mail-order bride and gotten two women instead—one who’d come expecting marriage, and one who looked at him like he was something she’d scrape off her boot.
He pulled the team to a stop in front of the hotel and set the brake. Through the dining room windows, lamplight spilled onto the boardwalk. James would be in there already, probably working on his second cup of coffee while Rose picked at whatever breakfast Mrs. Kendall had set out.
And the McKinney sisters would be there too. Preparing for a full day’s ride to a ranch they’d once thought would be their home. At least…Miss Clara’s home. Where had Kate McKinney planned to live? He should have asked that. Maybe it didn’t matter now. They would be leaving together eventually.
Unless… The idea that had dawned sometime around midnight crowded in once more.
Robert.
He should be the one to marry next anyway, as the older brother. Why in cotton they thought Thomas needed a bride more than Robert was still a mystery. They must think him a truly desperate case.
But this could all turn out for good. He could match Robert with one of them—Miss Clara, probably, since she was the one who’d come expecting a husband.
Robert was steady, responsible. The kind of man who’d make a decent husband once he got his head out of whatever book of law cases currently occupied it. And if Robert married Clara McKinney, Thomas could leave for California with a clear conscience.
The plan had seemed brilliant in the dark hours before dawn. Now, sitting in the cold with his ribs aching and his face throbbing, it felt less likely.
He climbed down from the wagon seat, his boots hitting the frozen ground with a jolt that shot pain through his side.
The dining room’s warmth hit like a wall when he pushed through the door. Heat from the cast iron stove in the corner had already chased away the worst of the morning chill, and the smell of coffee and frying bacon made his stomach clench with hunger he’d been ignoring.
James sat at a corner table with all three women, and they all looked up at Thomas’s approach.
Clara wore a traveling dress the color of dark green pine needles, her honey-blonde hair arranged in some complicated style that had probably taken her an hour. She looked bright and cheery, despite the early hour and the months the pair had been traveling.
Kate sat beside her in a dress of deep blue wool, simpler than her sister’s but well-made. Her blonde hair was pulled back into that same severe style she’d worn yesterday, not a strand out of place.
Rose smiled at him from across the table, though the expression carried a note of caution. Like she wasn’t sure whether he’d bolt or cause a scene.
Fair enough. He’d considered both options last night.
“Good morning.” He aimed for the empty chair at the table’s end. Sitting pulled at his ribs again, and he had to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady as he settled.
Kate’s gaze tracked every wince, every careful shift of position. Tallying his weaknesses again. “Morning.” James pushed a cup of coffee across the table toward him. “Wagon loaded?”
“Most of it.” Thomas wrapped his hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep through his gloves. “Still need to add the trunks and tie down the canvas in case the weather turns.”
“It will.” James glanced toward the window, where gray light filtered through the frost patterns on the glass. “Could start snowing any time.”
Perfect. A full day’s ride in potentially worsening weather. At least it would keep conversation to a minimum. Hard to make small talk when your face was numb, and the wind cut through every layer.
“We should eat quickly then.” Rose gestured to the serving dishes arranged in the center of the table—bacon, eggs, biscuits that steamed when Clara broke one open. “Get on the road before it gets worse.”
Thomas reached for a biscuit, though his appetite had vanished somewhere between walking through that door and sitting here under all these stares. The bread, still warm from the oven, felt dense in his hand.
He forced himself to take a bite. Chew. Swallow. His body needed fuel for the long day ahead, whether his stomach wanted it or not.
“How long to the ranch?” Kate’s question cut through the silence, directed at James but sharp enough that Thomas felt the blade.
“Eight to ten hours, depending on conditions.” James set down his coffee. “We’ll have plenty of blankets in the wagon, and we’ll stop halfway to rest the horses and eat a meal. There’s a spot with some shelter if the weather turns.”
“And if conditions become worse before we reach this spot?”
The challenge in her tone made Thomas’s jaw tighten. Everything she said carried an edge, like she was constantly preparing for the worst possible outcome. He’d never liked a pessimistic outlook. Why hunt down trouble before you’d even crossed its path?
“We’ll manage.” James’s tone carried that careful patience he used when trying to keep peace. “I’ve made this trip in worse conditions.”
Kate’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t push further. Just reached for her own cup and took a deliberate sip, her gaze never leaving Thomas’s face.
He looked away first—coward that he was—and focused on the biscuit in his hand. The bread had gone dry in his mouth. He forced himself to swallow and reached for his coffee.
Clara cleared her throat. “Will there be other travelers on the road?”
“Unlikely this time of year.” Rose offered a warm smile. “Most people stay close to town once the weather turns. But that makes it safer in its own way—no other traffic to worry about.”
Safer. Thomas nearly laughed. They were about to spend a full day trapped in a wagon together, heading toward a ranch full of his meddling family. Safe wasn’t the word he’d use.
He drained his coffee in three swallows, the heat scalding all the way down. The burn felt good—something real to focus on besides the weight of Kate McKinney’s stare and the careful way Clara picked at her breakfast.
“I’ll start loading the trunks.” He pushed back from the table. The scrape of his chair against the floorboards covered whatever Rose started to say.
After another half hour or so of time-wasting, they finally rolled out of Butte. James opted to drive the team, and Thomas sat on the bench with him while the ladies tucked into the empty nook he’d reserved for them in the bed of the wagon—as protected from the wind as he’d been able to make it.
In a few hours, Rose might want to come up to the bench with her husband. Thomas could stretch his legs at that point and warm up by walking behind the rig.
The wagon lurched over a frozen rut, and he grabbed the side rail to keep from sliding into his brother. His ribs shot a spike through his left side that made his breath catch.
“Sorry.” James didn’t look over, his attention fixed on the road ahead. “Ground’s worse than I thought it’d be.”
Thomas grunted and settled back against the bench to find a position that didn’t make everything hurt. The cold had worked its way through his coat and shirt, settling into his bones with the kind of deep ache that promised a long day ahead.
Behind them, the murmur of women’s voices drifted forward—too quiet for him to make out words, but the tone carried clearly enough. Rose’s warm reassurance. Clara’s tentative responses. Kate’s determined tone.
She might be a wrinkle in his plan to match Clara with Robert. Maybe. What had she planned to do when her sister married Thomas? Surely those intentions wouldn’t shift just because the name of the groom changed.
Perhaps he should mention his idea to her though. She was likely already plotting their next step, where they would go from the ranch. He needed to plant this idea before she all but bought tickets to travel elsewhere.
Mayhap he could pull her aside when they rested the horses at midday.