Chapter Twenty-Six
“I’ll be fine.”
Amelia had scarcely left the drive before she began to regret stubbornly insisting that she would be in no danger of driving into town on her own.
She was in desperate need of a few items from the general store and eager to see if there was a letter for her at the post office.
The delivery only made it out to the ranch once or twice a week, and she’d just about worn a hole in her cheek from chewing on it with anxiety.
Cody, naturally, had wanted her to wait until he or Arthur could accompany her.
The trouble was that there was a conflict over someone putting up barbed wire on the public grazing, and every hand was needed to move the cattle to a safer place.
There was no telling when Cody would have the time, and Amelia had put off her trip for as long as she could.
As it was, she was scraping the bottom of the coffee tin, her salt dish was all but empty, and the flour barrel was looking sadly depleted. It couldn’t be helped any longer.
“I’ll be fine,” Amelia had proclaimed, over and over again.
“I’ll make a quick jog into town, get what is needed, and pick up the children at school on the way home.
We’ll all return together, and everyone will be all the safer for it.
Besides, I’m running out of ways to make dinner without flour or salt. ”
It was a logical argument, and Cody couldn’t really gainsay her. She’d leaned in close and pressed her reticule against him so that he could feel the weight of it. A delicate little pistol was snugged inside. “Besides,” she whispered, “I can protect myself now.”
So, it was with a great show of confidence that she’d whipped up the horse pulling her trap, even giving a jaunty wave with her whip as she departed the ranch.
Once on the road, however, and out of sight of the ranch, her bravado flagged.
Her eyes were scarcely on the road ahead, for how much they were busy looking around.
Every rustle from the shrubs at the side of the road was Dean, ready to pounce like a monster under the bed.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she entered Gunnison proper. While it would have been easier for him to blend in with the crowd, there was also safety in the sheer number of people. She knew that the people of Gunnison wouldn’t take kindly to a lady being distressed.
Amelia pulled the horse up a bit, slowing it to an energetic walk.
People and horses crowded the streets, everyone eager to do their errands before the afternoon heat really descended.
The rain of a couple of weeks ago was but a distant memory, and it felt like everything in town had a coating of dust on it.
Amelia kept her mouth firmly closed, not eager for a sampling of the streets.
There was a space about midway between the general store and the post office, and Amelia quickly hitched the horse within reach of a water trough.
She slipped into the general store, which was dark and quiet compared to the noise outside.
The proprietor gave her a nod and, recognizing her, began assembling the few items needed.
Amelia browsed the shelves, pausing to consider a tin of cocoa powder.
It was expensive, having been shipped all the way from San Francisco or points east. On the one hand, it was an extravagance; on the other, it would be a nice treat for all of them.
Amelia could vividly recall the first time she’d tasted chocolate, and while it was certainly more common than when she was a girl, it was still a rarity.
“Shall I add that to your order?” the shopkeeper called. His pencil hovered over the ledger where the ranch’s tab was kept. As in most livestock and farming towns, stores allowed people to run up tabs until the harvest or until the cattle were brought in, and they would settle up in the fall.
Amelia plucked up the tin and took it to the counter. “I’ll pay for it now,” she said, not wanting it to show up on the ledger. She had a few coins rattling around in her bag as ready money, and she rested her reticule on the counter to fish them out.
Unfortunately, as she did so, her gun clattered out partway onto the counter along with a few loose bullets. The shopkeeper’s eyebrows climbed halfway up his bald, shining head as Amelia quickly scooped the gun back into her reticule.
“Coyotes,” she said by way of explanation.
The shopkeeper nodded. “Oh, of course, ma’am. They get quite bold when there’s not enough water. Can’t be too careful, a woman on her own. Used to be you’d see the womenfolk of the town wearing guns on their hips as often as the men.”
“As you say,” Amelia said, not really listening. She was fighting a blush for some reason she couldn’t quite explain. It was embarrassing to be seen being afraid; she was so used to being confident and capable.
“And of course, there’s talk of unsavory types seen around town,” the shopkeeper continued.
“Unsavory types?” Amelia repeated, her stomach clenching.
“Oh yes,” the shopkeeper said, nodding his shining head. “Why, we had a fella in here just yesterday. I didn’t like the look of him, not one bit.”
“Why’s that?” Amelia asked faintly. Her voice sounded strange to herself, but the shopkeeper didn’t seem to notice.
“He was skulking about all furtive-like,” the shopkeeper said. His lip curled a bit underneath his perfectly waxed mustache. “Well, I asked him, I says, ‘Just what do you think you’re doing in here, following my customers about?’ And what do you suppose he said?”
Amelia shook her head, her teeth clenched too tight to speak.
“Well, it turns out he’s the lowest sort of person,” the shopkeeper said. He leaned forward across the counter a little and lowered his voice. “He was selling hair tonics! I told him to scat—we’re a Parker’s establishment, through and through!”
Amelia stared at the shopkeeper for a moment. She was so relieved she nearly burst out laughing, but she checked the response at the last minute, not wishing to offend. She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth and did her best to swallow her laughter.
“How fortunate we are to have someone looking out for our well-being,” she managed at last.
This seemed to please the shopkeeper, who offered to put her goods in her trap. Amelia accepted, telling him that she was running down to the post office and would be back directly.
As she walked the short distance to the post office, she couldn’t help but shake her head and chuckle to herself. You’re being foolish, jumping at shadows, she chided herself. It was easy to believe that she was simply being paranoid on a day like this, with bright sunshine and blue skies.
Indeed, it seemed that all of Gunnison had come out to bask in the sunlight before it began to bake the streets. Everyone was in a jolly mood, and Amelia found herself smiling and nodding to the townspeople who crossed her path.
She pushed open the door to the post office, and the bell tinkled merrily overhead to announce her arrival.
The postmaster, a stooped old man named Chester (it was unclear whether it was his first, last, or only name—Chester simply had been and always had been, as far as Gunnison was concerned), greeted her with a gap-toothed grin.
“Is ‘at you, Mrs. Walker?” he inquired. “How lovely to see you in here again,” he continued, shuffling toward the counter. He took off his postmaster’s cap, revealing wispy white hair that clung to his scalp.
“Good afternoon, Chester,” Amelia replied, offering him a congenial smile. “You’re looking well.”
“I’m not, but you’re an angel for saying so,” Chester replied. “What’ll it be today? Sending a parcel?”
“Not this time,” Amelia answered. “I actually came to see if we might have any mail. Perhaps a letter for me?”
Chester scratched at the white stubble that peppered his jaw. “No, no letters,” he said. The wrinkles in his forehead deepened as he thought. “Though there was a feller in here the other day asking about your patch of land.”
Amelia froze. Instantly, her breezy mood vanished. Once again, fear gripped her stomach. Peace, she told herself. It could just as easily be something unrelated again. Don’t panic yet.
“Thought he might be a relation of yours,” Chester continued. He turned his back to her, sorting some envelopes into different slots along the back wall. “Asked for you by name.”
“I don’t have any relations,” Amelia answered faintly.
Chester half-turned at that, and Amelia groaned inwardly. Now you’ve done it, she scolded herself. The only thing that Chester dispensed more reliably than the mail was gossip. It wouldn’t take long before the entire town knew that a strange man was asking after her.
Why in Heaven are you fretting about that at a time like this? another part of her screamed.
“Good day,” she said brusquely, fully aware that this would only add fuel to the fire. She didn’t care; she just wanted to fetch the children and get home.
Home.
She stepped out onto the street, blinking in the bright sunlight. She shielded her eyes and looked up and down the street, not even caring who saw her. The only thing that mattered was keeping herself and her charges safe. Keeping her head down, she hurried to her trap and unhitched the horse.
The horse, catching her energy, chewed the bit and lurched briefly against the harness.
Amelia didn’t bother to correct him; she merely released the brake and snapped the reins against his rump.
It wasn’t until she was nearly out of Gunnison that she bothered to check whether the shopkeeper at the general store had stored her goods in the basket strapped to the back.
As she was turned around, looking backward, she saw the silhouette of a man.
There were plenty of people moving around, so that wasn’t anything unexpected.
The thing that made him stand out was that he was rooted to the center of the street, unmoving.
While the rest of the crowd, people and horses alike, streamed around him, he was like a stone in a river.
He was too far away for Amelia to see his face, but she didn’t have to. He stared at her, unflinching, not caring that she had spotted him.
He’s here.