Liberty Belle (23 page)

“I’ll wake you when the soup comes.” Wade tucked the covers around the boy and marveled at how quickly peace settled on Mark.

Staring out the window, Wade wondered if he’d ever feel that peace. Ever be able to forgive himself for letting his family down. And now Libby.

Chapter 23

Libby wrapped the blanket around her. What she wouldn’t give for a bed warmer and the wardrobe she’d left at home. Mother would have scolded her for not planning ahead.

She nudged Flora. “Do you think our clothes will be dry by morning? My other outfit is too soiled to wear.”

“Oh dear. Mine is too. I didn’t consider that problem. After I earn some money, I’ll sew for us.”

About to respond, a knock startled Libby. Her heart leapt to her throat. What if that big brute was back? What if—

“It’s me, Harley. You don’t need to answer. I took the liberty, sorry, no pun on your name intended, of bringing dry clothes for you both. I didn’t know your sizes, but Daisy helped me. I’ll just leave them here. I also brought along a meal of hot soup.”

Flora snickered. “I knew the Lord would help us. When you and Wade were talking, Mark and I were praying. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Rolling her eyes, Libby groaned inside. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Not praying enough was another of her weaknesses according to her mother. She recalled other times she’d impulsively rushed into life far ahead of prayer only to wonder why she got into trouble.

“Flora, bringing you along was surely Providence. And I am starved. I’ll bring in the soup and garments.” Libby bolted from the bed and flung on her robe. Her hand on the doorknob, she paused. Harley wouldn’t be so low as to wait and pounce on her. Or would he? She twisted the key, pulled open the door an inch and peeked into the hall.

No one.

Emboldened, she flung it open. Two bowls of steaming soup caught her attention. She scooped up the tray and took it to the table.

Flora shut the door behind her and carried in the items Harley had left.

The skirts and blouses, although plain, were sturdy and would hold more warmth than those she’d brought along. Libby quickly slipped into the blue blouse and the brown skirt. “Not bad. Daisy must be a good judge for sizes.”

“Yes, she must. I wonder which girl she is? I would like to meet and thank her personally.” Flora, still in her nightgown, hugged the gifts to her chest.

Meet a saloon girl? What was Flora thinking? Then again, anyone who knew they stayed at Harley’s might believe the same of them. Libby sat at the table. “You’re right. Tomorrow, we shall seek out this Daisy and thank her.”

Her imagination engaged, Libby wondered what she would be like. Perhaps she was an older woman in the kitchen, but more than likely she was one of the scantily-clad girls who flittered around the saloon enticing the men to drink. Did Daisy and Harley … did he like her? A flash of anger, or was it jealousy, stung her pride. What was she thinking? Disgust boiled inside her. What did she care if Harley had ten women interested in him? To divert her thoughts, Libby studied the soup. It looked like some kind of watery stew but smelled wonderful and was hot. “Shall we eat?”

Flora nodded, folded her hands, and prayed. “Dear Father in heaven, thank you for this meal and the clothes you have provided for us. Watch over Wade and Mark … and Harley. Amen.”

Libby darted a glance to her aunt. She’d said that last name with a different, more tender tone.

Cheeks blushing, Flora stared at her.

With a quick nod, Libby mumbled a hasty amen, hoping her aunt didn’t see that she’d already tasted of the stew. Where did Flora learn to pray as if she knew the Lord personally? One thing Libby was certain of, Flora was not the same timid spinster from Missouri who had begged to go. She’d flourished in the short time they’d been on this adventure.

Studying the woman, Libby doubted Father would even recognize his sister. Thoughts of him triggered an idea that plowed into Libby’s mind. Others believed her impulsive, but when these ideas struck, what was she to do?

“Flora, we should write letters and mail them tomorrow. By the time they reach Father, I will be established, and we won’t be living in this saloon. He could send our things or come to visit.”

“That is a wonderful idea. But what do we put as an address where he can reach us?”

The spoon halfway to her mouth, Libby considered the problem. If she wrote and gave “The Yellow Slipper” as her address, her parents would come, drag her back home, and marry her off to the first man Mother could convince. She sipped the watery stew and enjoyed the warmth as it traveled to her stomach.

After a few moments of silence, she smiled at Flora. “I’ll ask Mr. Myers to let us use his address. He welcomed me to come and visit the newspaper office, and I can check on any ads that may hold promise of employment.”

“Good. Then we shall write tomorrow.” Flora placed the new skirt on her side of the dresser. “Even though it is early, I am exhausted and more than ready for a night’s rest.”

Libby agreed, but her mind was already running into tomorrow’s possibilities. And Wade topped the list.

###

Light knocks roused Libby out of a deep sleep. A glance toward the window showed the promise of morning but with the gray before dawn still in control.

“Libby?” Wade’s whispered voice broke into her room.

After gathering her robe about her, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. What could he want at this hour? With her hand on the lock, she paused.

A harder knock startled her. Afraid Flora would waken, Libby peeked out. “Yes, what is it?”

Dressed and holding his hat, he cocked his head toward his room. His brows were furrowed in worried lines. “It’s Mark. He might have a fever. I have to go to the livery and wondered if you would check on him. I hate to take him with me if he’s sick.”

Concern for the boy drove any ideas of propriety from her mind. With a tug on the belt of her robe, she eased out of her room and followed Wade.

Door open, she had a clear view of Mark on the bed and rushed to his side. The child appeared so small and vulnerable. She laid her palm to his forehead. Hot.

“He does have a fever. Why don’t you bring him to my room? You can lay him on the couch, and Flora and I will watch over him.”

Concern troubled Wade’s eyes. He touched Mark’s head, and his fingers brushed against her hand.

Warmth shot through her, setting off a joy that tingled her toes and traveled all the way to her head. Libby turned and faced him, and everything faded as a golden silence surrounded them. She wanted to tell him how she felt, wanted to remain close to him, wanted this moment to last forever.

His gaze strengthened her attraction.

The air in the room seemed to come alive as her every breath filled with excitement. She didn’t care what he did for a living. Didn’t care about anything other than standing beside him.

He straightened and pulled away from her. “Sorry, I, uh.” He took in a deep breath, stepped back, and looked down.

Heart stuttering, Libby watched him. What was wrong? Didn’t he like her? “Wade?”

His head came up, and his gaze collided with hers. He took one quick step, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her. Soft at first, then growing in intensity until her world tilted. Nothing mattered. She couldn’t catch her breath. Sparks, big as the Fourth of July, exploded inside and her heart melted. Wade was the one God had chosen for her. She knew it. She belonged with him.

He caressed her with his eyes and put a finger to her lips. “You’ve been in my mind from the first day I saw you. Now you’re in my heart.”

Mark moaned.

Libby turned to the boy, almost thankful for the diversion. Such a kiss in a man’s room was hardly proper, but she’d not have changed it for anything. Gathering her thoughts and wits, she looked closer at Mark. His cheeks were red, and his forehead warmer than before. “We need to get a doctor.”

She turned to Wade and put her hand on his arm. “You’ve been in my heart since that day in Crimson. I—”

“My throat hurts and I’m cold.” Mark sounded near tears.

Libby knelt beside him. “Well, let’s see about making you feel better. Wade’s going to carry you into my room, and you can sleep on the couch where Flora and I can watch over you.”

His lips quivered. “Last time I got sick, my legs wouldn’t work. God promised I would get better, but I still limp. Am I going to die?”

Wade scooped him up, blankets and all. “Of course you’re not going to die. I’ve seen you pray. You and God are close. Besides, we’re partners and have to find that gold claim.”

Libby followed, her heart bursting with love at the way he talked to the boy.

Wade settled Mark on the couch. Flora still slept, and Libby prayed she’d not wake up with Wade in their room. After grabbing a clean handkerchief, she poured water into a bowl, knelt beside Mark, and mopped his forehead with the cool cloth.

“Mr. Wade, will you pray for me? I’m so sleepy.”

Wade cleared his throat, glanced at her, and bowed his head. “God, take care of Mark and make him better. And let him walk without a limp.”

Tears crowded Libby’s eyes. Wade’s deep voice gave her strength, and she could feel the boy relax.

“Amen.” Wade slapped on his hat. “I have to go to the livery. On the way out, I’ll ask Harley to send a doctor.” He gave her a sad smile and eased out of the room, shutting the door softly.

###

Wade groaned
. Pray?
He’d not done that in years and never to ask for a boy to get well or walk right. Fear slammed into him. Once he’d known God or thought he had. Believed that God watched over him and his family. Believed that if he gave up his dream to raise horses and took the job of sheriff, the Lord would reward him. Believed that God was good. And then that night, that awful night, he’d done what he thought the Lord had asked. Gone to the Phelps to make sure they were safe only to find that all those he’d loved had been killed. Where was God then?

Mark and Libby
. If being close to him put them in danger, if God let them die because of him. … Defeat pounced on him. If doing what the Lord wanted cost him his family, what would happen to Mark and Libby? No, he couldn’t risk God taking them, too.

Carrying his bedroll, Wade shut the door to his room only to find Harley leaning against the hallway not far from Libby’s. How long had that coyote been standing there? Scowling, Wade walked toward the man.

Harley glared at him with a look that said he’d been there long enough.

“Mark’s sick and needs a doctor. Would you send one up to him? He’s in Libby’s room. I’m going to Sweeny’s livery. First day on the job.”

The gambler snorted. “I’d pay you in a day what you’ll make in a month. But if you want to work in a smelly stable that’s your choice.” Harley sneezed. “I’ll send for the Doc. He’s a regular at the gaming tables and owes me.” The man pointed at his bedroll. “You coming back tonight?”

Wade ignored the question and left. Trotting down the stairs, he wondered if Harley would take care of Libby and Mark, if he’d be good to her. At least she’d be alive, and Wade couldn’t guarantee that if she stayed with him.

###

Wade had worked with the wild stallion for two weeks, and now was the moment of truth. He gathered the reins in one hand, put a foot in the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. Fire, ears flicking back and forth, stood still.

“Good, boy. Now let’s just take a walk around the corral.” He squeezed his knees.

Fire looked at him, tossed his head, and took a few steps. After more urging, the stallion broke into a trot and then an easy lope. Wade ran him until sweat darkened the horse’s red coat. With a gentle pull, he reined him to a stop.

Sweeny grinned. “You done it. Turned a lion into a lamb. I’ll have people lined up to have you break their horses when they see you ride through town.”

“Maybe. If they do, we’ll split the earnings.” Wade patted the stallion’s fiery-red coat and dismounted. “He’s a good animal. Just needed a little understanding is all.”

“Well, here comes Tobias. Expected him this morning to help with the feeding. Sun’s high, must be about noon.” Sweeny wiped hay from his shirt and walked toward the man.

Wade undid the gate and led the stallion toward the men. “Tobias, did you see Mark and Libby for me? Give him that bag of candies?”

Breathing hard, the older man came up the hill to the livery. “Sure did. Mark’s as healthy as a wild colt. And Miss Libby as pretty as a new-born day. Told him you might come by later. They been missin’ ya.”

“Fire’s doing so good, I thought I would ride over there.” Since he’d left the saloon the day that Mark took sick, he’d only seen them three times. He had sent Tobias to check on them nearly every day, an easy favor for the old man since he was a regular at The Yellow Slipper.

Sweeny slapped him on the shoulder. “You better see to that pretty gal. I saw her at the newspaper office with that gambler the other day. She didn’t appear none too happy either.”

“I’m not her keeper. She’s free to do what she wants.” Wade mounted, hoping the horse would behave long enough to escape more questions.

He was already feeling low. Not easy to leave those you love, even if it was to save their lives. If the horse proved worthy, maybe he would ride on out of Denver and go west to California.

Sweeny waved his hat. “Take the afternoon off. You’ve earned it.”

Wade kept Fire on a tight rein, not ready to trust the animal, but the horse moved easy and responded well. He’d not thought further than stopping by the saloon to see Libby, Flora, and Mark.

The last time he saw her, the pain in her eyes about killed him, making it hard for him to leave. But he’d already decided they were better off without him.

He had to admit, being on horseback again gave him a sense of freedom. Sitting tall, he was far above those that walked. And free. He could light out any time he wanted. No baggage, no responsibilities.

Then he saw her standing at the foot of the stairs to her room by the saloon. The sunlight danced on her hair and showered her in golden light. She took his breath away, took his desire to ride out, took his freedom.