Heartbreak Creek (6 page)

The man in the tintype was certainly more properly dressed in a banded drover shirt and a dark coat.

This man wore a battered sheepskin jacket over an unbleached work shirt and worn denims, and instead of being clean-shaven wore a three-day growth of dark beard on his scowling, square-jawed face. Plus, he looked older. Well, not so much
older
, as less young, or perhaps just tired. And those eyes—

Edwina abruptly lost her train of thought when she realized he had been scrutinizing her just as thoroughly as she had been scrutinizing him. Except he didn’t even try to hide the blatant assessment, his studied gaze moving boldly down to her smart, although wellworn kid slippers, then up over her also worn, but still quite fashionable gabardine traveling cloak, and finally rising to the drawn silk spoon bonnet she had dressed up with jaunty rosettes and peacock plumes to disguise the fact that it was five years out of date. It seemed to hold his attention for an extended time, and to Edwina’s experienced eye he didn’t look particularly pleased with what he saw.

“I wasn’t expecting two,” he muttered, tearing his gaze from her hat to scowl at Pru.

Edwina stiffened, although despite her height and even if she had risen on tiptoe, she still wouldn’t have reached past his chin. “I shall go nowhere without my—”

“Traveling companion,” Pru cut in.

Edwina glared at her.

Pru smiled sweetly back.

Two women walked by, shooting speculative glances from beneath the brims of their cottage bonnets at the man glaring down at them. Farm women, Edwina guessed, eyeing their faded calico dresses and scuffed boots. Sturdy, practical farm women. She wondered if they spoke English. An insane urge to run after them and ask almost sent her into hysterical laughter. It was bizarre. Comical, really. Then she glanced up at the man towering over her and amusement faded. Obviously he didn’t share her appreciation of the absurd, judging by the tense line of his mouth and the disapproving glint in his dark brown eyes.

He mumbled something, scratched at his bristly jaw, then sighed. “Come along then.” And without waiting for a response, he turned and started down the boardwalk.

Edwina gaped at his broad back. “I beg your pardon!”

“Oh, dear,” Pru muttered.

He stopped and swung back.

“Come along where?” Edwina demanded.

“To the wagon.” He waved a big hand in the direction he’d been headed. “By the mercantile. It’s already loaded.” Turning, he commenced walking. Or clumping. The man’s stride was twice Edwina’s, and with his full weight coming down on the narrow sloped heels of his boots, each footfall sounded like a hammer blow on the wooden boardwalk.

“What’s the rush?” she called, bringing him to a stop once again. She had hoped they might chat for a moment. Perhaps step into the hotel dining room for a cup of tea.
Something
to mark their first meeting.

This time, he at least had the good grace to retrace his steps, but when he stopped before her, Edwina wished he hadn’t. Without even trying to mask his impatience, he snapped, “The washout and a busted wheel have already cost me an extra day. I need to get back. Now.”

“What about our things?” Pru asked. “We have only two bags.”

“Where?”

“In the hotel. I’ll have the bellboy bring them down.” And before Edwina could stop her, Pru darted into the lobby.

Battling panic, Edwina stood rooted where her sister had abandoned her. Unable to meet that piercing gaze, she studied the boardwalk, listened to him breathe, blinked at his astoundingly large boots.

Tension built until the weight of it filled Edwina’s mind and drove a burst of words out of her mouth. “I have friends,” she said in a rush. “In the hotel. I must say good-bye.” Then before he could respond, she whirled and fled into the hotel after her sister.

Pru was nowhere in sight. But instead of pounding up the stairs in search of her, Edwina veered toward the clerk at the front desk, desperate for some reassurance about the man waiting outside. What if her husband was a known desperado or murderous villain intent on carving out their hearts as soon as they reached the edge of town? What if the reason he had to advertise for a new wife was because he had murdered his last one?

Reaching the desk, she glanced back, then stiffened when she saw that her husband had moved inside the doorway where he now stood, arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

Heart thudding against her ribs, Edwina motioned the clerk closer. “Do you know that man, Mr. Yancey?” she whispered, tipping her head in the lump’s direction. “The one by the front door. No, don’t gawk!”

The clerk peered past Edwina’s shoulder. “You mean Big Bob?”

“Big Bob?”
Who the dickens is Big Bob?

“Everybody in these parts knows Big Bob.”

Not Declan Brodie?
Had her husband sent this lummox in his stead? Hope soared. “You’re sure,” she pressed. “The big man by the door.”

“Yep. Big Bob. Highline Ranch. That’s him.”

Not my husband. Not Declan Brodie
. Edwina almost sagged in her relief. But euphoria abruptly died as suspicion took its place. “Is he a dependable man? Honorable?”
Will we be safe traveling with him?
was what she wanted to ask but was afraid to alert her hulking escort to her fears.

Mr. Yancey scratched at his bald scalp. “Well, yeah. I suppose. He was the sheriff, after all. Before the trouble, that is.”

Trouble?
She looked back at Big Bob—what an absurd name—and found him still watching her, those dark eyes gleaming like two chips of wet flint in his sun-browned face.

“Wait a minute,” the clerk blurted out, reclaiming her attention. “You’re
that
Mrs. Brodie!” Tilting his head to peer around Edwina, he waved to Big Bob.

Big Bob didn’t wave back.

“You’re the new missus.” The clerk grinned happily, showing gaps in his rust-stained teeth. Edwina had noticed such dental discolorations on several other locals and deduced the water in Heartbreak Creek must be as ghastly as the conductor had said. She resisted the impulse to rub a gloved finger across her own front teeth.

She was about to question the clerk further when Pru came down the stairs, trailed by the freckled bellboy tottering under the weight of their two carpetbags. On his heels came Maddie and Lucinda, who stopped beside the front counter to stare at the man waiting by the front door.

“Is that your husband?” Maddie whispered in a voice low enough for Edwina and Pru to hear, but hopefully not Big Bob.

“God help her if it is,” Lucinda murmured.

Panting, the boy let the bags drop beside Edwina, then stood back with an expectant look, rather like that of a spaniel after laying a fresh kill at his master’s feet. Edwina turned her own expectant look toward Big Bob. She was down to so few coins she was reluctant to part with a one if she didn’t have to.

After a long hesitation, and with a scowl of irritation that didn’t bode well for the long ride to the ranch, Big Bob came forward. Ignoring the four women staring at him, he reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out a coin, and held it out.

Grinning, the boy snatched it up. Before he could dart away, the dark-haired man rested his hand on the youngster’s thin shoulder.

“Why aren’t you in school, son?”

“It’s closed, sir.”

“Closed?”

“It’s always closed on Saturday, sir.”

Big Bob shot a surprised glance at Mr. Yancey. “It’s Saturday?”

The clerk showed rusty teeth and nodded. “All day.”

“Hell. I’m
two
days late.” And with an accusing look at Edwina, as if the delay and his own inability to keep track of it were somehow her fault, he snatched up the carpetbags and headed toward the door. “Come on. We’re burning daylight.”

Edwina stared after him, thoughts of escape racing through her mind. Then Pru’s hand pressed against her shoulder blades, shoving her through the door and onto the boardwalk.

“You poor thing,” Lucinda muttered, stepping out behind them.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Maddie argued. “I think your husband is rather handsome. And big, like Angus.”

“He’s not my husband,” Edwina said over her shoulder.

Pru stopped pushing. “He’s not?”

Edwina repressed a giggle. “That’s Big Bob.” She drew out the name, adding a flourish, like a barker at a county fair announcing the prize hog. “Apparently he was sent to fetch us.” Seeing Pru’s frown, she quickly added, “But don’t fret. The clerk said he was once a sheriff, so we’ll be fine. I think.”

Taking advantage of her sister’s befuddlement, Edwina turned to give hugs to Maddie and Lucinda. “I shall miss you,” she said, fighting tears.

Lucinda blushed and looked away, obviously uncomfortable with emotional displays.

“Not for long,” Maddie announced. “Since we’re staying. We decided last night.”

“Staying?” Edwina reared back. “Here? In Heartbreak Creek?”

“Only for a while,” Lucinda warned, even though she was smiling, too.

Edwina glanced at Pru, saw a reflection of her own happy confusion in her sister’s expression. “But why?” she asked, turning back to her friends.

“Why not?” Maddie grinned and looked around, her eyes alight with excitement. “This is the perfect place to start my photographic expedition. The real West. And this way, if we stay together, rather than traveling on alone, we’ll both be safer.”

“And also,” Lucinda added, with a nod toward the tall figure heading down the boardwalk, “if this foolish proxy marriage of yours doesn’t work out, we’ll be close by to spirit you away.”

P
atience was not something Edwina had in abundance. And boredom only depleted it further. Granted, as the wagon rolled out of Heartbreak Creek and into the wooded canyons, the lovely mountain scenery had kept her distracted for several miles. But moving along as slowly as they did, she had ample time to peruse the road ahead, which greatly diminished any anticipation she might have harbored about what lay around the next bend.

Trees. Then more trees. Occasionally even a tree with actual leaves, instead of varying lengths and shades of green to blue-green needles. And so many cones of all differing shapes and lengths . . . my, it fair boggled her mind. For an hour, anyway.

Then there were rocks of all sizes and composition to draw her attention—from giant boulders to tiny shards of glittering quartz to stones as black as pitch. Back home, there was more dirt than rocks. In fact, large rocks—as opposed to tossing-size rocks—were so scarce her grandfather had had to import quarry stone to build the entrance pillars. So at first, Edwina had found such an endless display of stones and rocks and boulders quite interesting. But then...

Well, really. They were only rocks. She doubted even her sister’s prodigious intellect could be challenged by a rock for very long.
If
Prudence was even awake.

Swiveling on the front seat, Edwina glared down at her sister, dozing on a blanket-covered bed of straw, cushioned by soft sacks of flour and sugar, while
she
—the one who had spent a sleepless night worrying—bounced around on a hard wooden seat next to a giant mute.
Honestly.

For the next hour, Edwina amused herself watching birds flit through the high branches. But riding with her head at such an upward angle put a crick in her neck, and since the birds flew away well before the wagon drew near enough for her to be able to identify them, that pastime soon lost its appeal as well. The high point of the first ten miles was the sighting of a deer, which quickly bounded into the brush at their approach.

Then more of the same. Trees. Rocks. Flies perching on the horses’ rumps. Boredom grew and patience shrank. Until finally, after being tossed about atop the poorly sprung seat for over three hours in utter silence, Edwina could bear no more.

“How did you get your name?” she asked in near desperation. “Big Bob is . . . unusual.” Surely his parents wouldn’t have named him that.

He turned his head and frowned at her.

Edwina frowned back, unable to decide what lay behind that flat stare. Amusement? Interest? Nothing?

“Well,” he finally said, facing the road again. “I’m big.”

Edwina gasped. “Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”

No response. Perhaps he believed her. Perhaps he was deaf. Perhaps he was such a dimwit he couldn’t recognize sarcasm.

Aspens were interesting, she decided a while later. Wind blowing through their leaves created such a lovely watery sound, like a rushing stream or trickling brook, which might have been enjoyable to listen to had she not needed to relieve herself. But rather than mention that to the lump, she squirmed in silence, repeatedly checking the watch pinned inside the pocket of her coat, convinced they would surely stop soon.

Forty-five minutes later, she turned to the man beside her and said, “Stop the wagon.”

He reared back. “What?”

“I have to get out.”

“But—”

“Now. I have need of privacy. Now. This minute.”

“Oh.”

Without waiting for the wagon to roll to a full stop, Edwina poked Pru awake, waved her to follow, then leaped to the ground and dashed into the brush.

“He’s a cretin,” she muttered to her sister a few moments later as they put their skirts to rights. “Dumber than wet mud. A giant mute with the brains of a flea and the personality of a pound of rancid lard. He’s so—”

“Hush,” Pru whispered, fighting laughter. “He’ll hear you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to ride anymore. I don’t want to sit by that man another minute.” She turned to Pru with a pleading look. “If I walk back to Heartbreak Creek, will you come with me?”

“No. Now let’s return to the wagon before a bear finds us.”