The Brides of Chance Collection (24 page)

Alisa’s arm was growing numb by the time Davy woke up and glared at her as though she’d been the one to pull him from the safety and warmth of his mother’s lap.

“I’m thirsty, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetheart. We will be in Reliable very soon, and I will get you a drink.”

“I’m thirsty now!”

“I’m sorry, but the water is all gone. You drank it to wash down your lunch, remember? I told you that was all.”

Mr. Chance slipped his hand into his saddlebag and produced a canteen.

“Oh, we couldn’t,” Mrs. Greene insisted.

“I have plenty.” He winked at Davy. “Can’t have the boy thirsty. Take some for yourself, as well, and pass it to Miss Worthington.”

The little boy gulped noisily, then heaved a sigh and began swinging his legs, thumping the bottom of the seat as he had earlier.

Alisa pressed her fingertips to her temple, trying to ward off the mounting ache.

“Hey, little fella,” Mr. Chance said, smiling at Davy. “How about not kicking that seat?”

The child scowled and turned his face to his mother’s arm, but he continued to thump the seat. “I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Greene said. “It’s difficult for him to keep still.”

“It’s all right,” Alisa said. She’d never seen such a poorly behaved child. Growing up in an orphanage had taught her obedience. Though her upbringing had not been harsh, it was most definitely strict.

Trying to ignore the pain in her head, now throbbing in time to the kicks of Davy’s boots against the seat, she glanced out the window. In the distance, she saw riders coming. She turned to alert Mr. Chance, but his gaze, too, was focused toward the horizon. A muscle jerked in his jaw.

A sense of unease crept through Alisa as she felt his tension. His hand went to his gun belt. It was empty. Frustration crossed his features.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Chance?”

“The men coming are not the welcoming party from Reliable,” he said in a matter of-fact tone.

“Oh, Reliable has a welcoming party?” Mrs. Greene asked.

Alisa fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I believe Mr. Chance is saying the men coming are up to no good.”

Mr. Chance nodded gravely. “You’re right, Miss Worthington. I’m afraid those are the same men who robbed me last night. They took my gun and my horse and all the money I had in my pocket.”

Mrs. Greene let out a little shriek and grabbed Davy close. “Oh my.”

“Mr. Wayne?” the cowboy called to the stage master.

“I see ’em,” came the rough reply. “Yaw!” he yelled to the horses, and the stage sped up.

But even Alisa could see there would be no outrunning two men on horseback. “What should we do, Mr. Chance?”

“Unless you have a pistol hidden in that bag of yours, I suggest we pray.” He hesitated; then he gave what Alisa was sure was supposed to have been a reassuring smile. However, it fell short of doing any such thing. “If they were out to truly do any harm, I’m sure they would have done more than kick dirt in my face and steal my horse.”

“They kicked dirt in your face?” Mrs. Greene asked. “How awful.”

“Not so awful as a bullet,” Mr. Chance retorted absently. Alisa had to agree.

Gunfire sounded, and the stage master pulled the stage to a stop. The two bandits held pistols upright. A series of shots fired into the air. They ordered the wagon master to throw down his weapons and climb down. Then a gravelly voice called out, “All right. Get out. All of you.”

Alisa looked to Mr. Chance for instruction. He nodded and opened the stage door. “I’ll go first.” He climbed down, then turned and offered his assistance to Alisa. Next he lifted Davy from the stage, then helped Mrs. Greene.

“That all of ya?” one of the bandits asked.

“Yes.” Mr. Chance stood, fists clenched.

Recognition flashed in the bandit’s dark eyes. “Well, Amos, looky here. This feller jest ain’t very lucky.”

The other man chuckled. “Didn’t we make yer acquaintance last night? Yep, that’s one nice Colt ya give us.” He patted the sleek neck of the horse he had just dismounted. “And this girl here is one beaut of a horse.”

The cowboy grinned back, and Alisa frowned. What was he up to?

“I suppose this surely isn’t my lucky day, but I have to tell you…it’s not yours, either.”

“How do ya figure that?”

“Well, considering you forced me to empty my pockets last night, you won’t find anything of value on me. And this young lady didn’t even have…”

Alisa drew in a breath. Would he humiliate her just to prove the point that if she couldn’t feed herself, she probably couldn’t give them anything of value?

“A trunk,” he said, completing his observation. Despite her precarious situation, Alisa’s heart swelled with gratitude. Mr. Chance personified all the heroes in her dime books—the stories she hadn’t been allowed to read when she lived at the orphanage. But since becoming Mrs. Worthington’s companion, Alisa read everything she could get her hands on, dime books included.

He continued goading the thieves. “The other young lady is widowed and traveling to Reliable to live with her brother because she can’t raise her son alone.”

“I thought you said there was a senator on this here stage, Bart.”

“Can I help it if that drunk varmint back at the Lucky Hand Saloon lied to me?” The man eyed his partner. “And what have I told you about calling me by my name?”

“Sorry, Bar…Joe.”

Alisa stifled a giggle behind her hand.

“All right, gimme whatever ya got,” the one called Bart said. He held out his hat as though passing around the offering plate.

Scurrying to obey, Mrs. Greene opened her satchel and tossed a wad of money into the hat. Alisa’s eyes widened, and she stared at the woman. “M–my husband was well off. I never said I came west because I was poor. Although, after today, that is certainly going to be my circumstance.”

“Yee-haw!”

Alisa jumped as Amos grabbed the hat away from Bart. He stopped in front of Mr. Chance. “Not our lucky day, huh? Well then what do you call this?”

The cowboy glared but kept his mouth shut. Alisa couldn’t help but be relieved. A man capable of robbery might also be capable of violence if provoked.

The man came to her. “Well? Whaddaya got, girlie? Or am I gonna have to search ya?”

Mr. Chance stepped forward. “Keep your filthy hands off her. She has nothing.”

“I’ll see that fer myself.”

Alisa showed him her reticule. “A–all that I have is a handkerchief.”

“That all? Well, maybe I’ll take a kiss instead.”

Shrinking back in alarm, Alisa felt the blood rushing to her head. She grabbed Mr. Chance’s arm to keep from losing her balance.

“I thought I told you to leave her alone!” He reached out to grab Amos just as Bart’s gun fired.

Alisa stared in horror as Mr. Chance slipped from her grasp. He landed with a thud on the ground, blood spilling from a wound in his temple.

Chapter 3

T
itus slowly came to, pain slicing his temple. Pebbles ground into his back—evidence he was lying on hard ground. His head, however, was pillowed in something soft and elevated off the ground. Gentle fingers pushed back the hair from his forehead and pressed a wet cloth to his temple. He opened his eyes.

Miss Worthington?

“Oh, thank You, Lord,” she breathed. “He’s coming around.”

Was he dreaming? Or was Miss Worthington even prettier from this angle? He started to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sent him back to…Miss Worthington’s lap? If this was a dream, may he never wake up!

“How are you feeling, Mr. Chance?”

He offered her a wobbly smile. “Like I’ve been shot. What happened? I’m obviously not dead. Unless, of course, you’re an angel.”

A beguiling blush darkened her rosy cheeks. “I’m afraid you’re still mortal,
Mr
. Chance. And I most certainly am, as well.”

A shadow blocked the glow of the retreating sun. The stage master stood over him. “Well, if that bullet had been a little more to the left, he wouldn’t be with us. As it is, he’s going to have a monster of a headache for a few days from that nick.” His gravelly voice held not a trace of sympathy. Like a grizzled Westerner, he stated the simple facts. “Them varmints took off like a couple of scared jackrabbits after you pitched to the ground. Lucky for you they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a sawed-off shotgun.”

It had nothing to do with luck
, he thought, at the same time Miss Worthington said, “Luck had nothing to do with it, Mr. Wayne. God surely had His hand on Mr. Chance.”

Hmmm
. He gazed into her suspiciously moist eyes and smiled. She smiled back. “Are you able to get up now?”

He’d rather just stay there forever, close his eyes, and relieve the pain in his head, but he couldn’t take advantage of her generous spirit and soft lap any longer. He sat up again, this time with her assistance. The world spun for a moment. Miss Worthington handed him the wet handkerchief she’d been holding against his head.

“Thank you.”

His gaze locked onto hers, and he felt time stand still. How could he have ever believed himself in love with a woman like Prissy White? He couldn’t even remember what she looked like, except for the ridiculous false blond curls she’d recently taken to wearing. Funny, two weeks ago, he’d found them attractive. But that was before he’d met Miss Worthington. And right now she seemed to be having as much trouble looking away as he was having.

Mr. Wayne stepped forward and offered his hand. “Well, let’s get you back into the stage. I got a schedule to keep.”

Titus groaned as pain stabbed his head. Movement wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as the stage master hefted him to his feet. Miss Worthington stood on one side of him. He swayed as the world spun. The gentle pressure of her palm heated his back. “It’s all right, Mr. Chance. I won’t let you fall.”

Her gentle, sincere voice made him smile, despite the pain. If he’d been feeling better, he’d have asked her who would hold her up if he started to fall. Instead, he accepted her assistance to the stage. She climbed in ahead of him and then offered her hands while Mr. Wayne helped him from behind. When he was finally settled into the seat, his head throbbed. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep. Since the cramped interior and narrow seat prevented him from doing so, he stretched out sideways as much as possible and slumped against the window.

Mrs. Greene gasped softly. As she had been earlier, she sat next to Miss Worthington, clutching Davy tightly in her grasp. “Oh, I am so relieved that you are all right, Mr. Chance. I just knew that bullet went through your head. I had to bring Davy inside so he didn’t have to see all the blood. He’s very sensitive. I feared for his peace of mind.”

“The bullet only grazed Mr. Chance,” Alisa broke in, much to Titus’s relief. He didn’t feel like talking, as his stomach was beginning to rebel against the jostle of the stagecoach, not to mention the vivid image of his blood spilling on the ground.
Thank
You, Lord, for steering that bullet away from my skull
.

Regrettably, Mrs. Greene didn’t take the hint. “Oh, that is fortunate for you. I once knew a man who—”

Titus closed his eyes against the pain.

“Perhaps we should let Mr. Chance rest.” Titus heard the sweetness of Miss Worthington’s voice just as he drifted to sleep.

He awoke to the same sweet voice. “Wake up, Mr. Chance. We’ve arrived in Reliable.”

His head throbbed, but he smiled. He could get used to waking up to that sound every day. When he opened his eyes, she was leaning forward, concern plainly written in her expression. As he met her gaze, relief replaced concern. His first attempt to sit up straight failed as a bolt of pain sent him back to the seat with a moan.

“Sit up slowly,” Miss Worthington admonished.

It felt good to have a woman fuss over him. And even more so when she placed her hand on his side and gently helped him to an upright position. Gideon’s assessment of things sure had been right. There was nothing like a woman’s touch. Of course, Gideon was a happily married man. Not just any woman’s touch would do. Take Prissy for instance. Her hand tucked inside the crook of his arm had never sent shocks of warmth down his spine. Now, Miss Worthington was a different matter altogether. He could barely remember where he was when he was so close to this woman. And he was almost certain the near-amnesia was due to the sweetness of her touch and not his wound.

Clarity slowly replaced his confusion, and he glanced through the window as the stage rolled to a halt in front of an eating establishment.

“I have never been so happy to see a dusty old town in my life!” Mrs. Greene said, and Titus had to agree with her. The stage master opened the door.

“Everyone out. We’re behind as it is. Other folks are waitin’. There’s dinner waitin’ inside iffen you can pay for it.”

“My, oh my, I am famished.” Mrs. Greene climbed out of the coach and reached around for Davy. “Are you hungry, darling? It’s a good thing Mommy had some money hidden away from those bad, bad men.” She turned to Titus and Miss Worthington. “It was so nice meeting you both. I am sure in a town this size, we will meet again. Say good-bye, Davy.”

“Bye.” The farewell was hardly discernable as the chubby little boy’s attention was averted to the source of food. He yanked on his mother’s hand. “Come on, Mama.”

With a final dimpled smile, Mrs. Greene stepped inside the diner. The dinnertime smells wafting from the building tempted Titus’s stomach. He could only guess how the aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread was affecting Miss Worthington.

She looked around, her lip clasped between her teeth, brow furrowed. Titus’s heart went out to her. What was she going to do? Where on earth would she sleep? The sun had set two hours earlier. Even if she were to find work, it certainly wouldn’t be tonight. At that moment, chivalry was born in Titus’s heart. There was no getting around it. He would help her. His heart had already made the choice for him, and there was nothing to do but follow along.

He would need help getting home; there was no question about that. If it was day light, the solution would be obvious. Hire a team and buggy from the livery and appeal to her sense of pity. But no decent woman would agree to spending so much as an hour in the dark traveling out to the ranch. And no decent man would dare ask. As badly as he’d like to find a place to sleep for the night, he knew Miss Worthington couldn’t afford to rent a room, and he was loath to leave her alone.