The Outrider (Redbourne Series #5 - Will's Story) (31 page)

“Not exactly.” He thought for a moment. “Outrider
business.”

“Ahhh…How exciting. You’ll have to tell me all
about it. It is too bad though, that you won’t be sticking around for the church
bazaar on Saturday. They’re going to have fireworks.” Alaric’s eyes grew wide
and his speech became faster and louder. “Hey, they’re going to have a boxing
match with some of the locals to raise money. They said I’m not old enough to
fight—not like granddad would allow it anyway, but, you should enter. You’d win
for sure.”

“Now, I don’t know about that. But you said they
are trying to raise money?”

“The preacher wants to build a new church and
schoolhouse. I guess the roof on the old one caved in last month while school
was in and a few of the students got hurt.”

Will raised a brow. “This preacher, tell me about
him.”

“Mac? He’s great! Beats that old reverend that
used to stop by every couple of months or so, usually sloshed. He taught me and
some of the other boys how to fish. He even knows how to throw a curveball.”

He certainly does
, Will thought with
disdain. He didn’t even know the man, but didn’t like him just the same. He
needed to get out of town and fast. He couldn’t just stand by and watch
Elizabeth marry him. It was time to stop chasing whatever fairy tale this was
and get on with his own life. In England.

Will unclenched his fists.

“What kind of fight?”

“Huh?” Alaric’s brows scrunched together.

“At the bazaar. Is it an organized match?”

Alaric shrugged. “Not sure. They just said they
were looking for men who would step into the ring for a good cause.”

Fighting was not always the answer, but sometimes
it helped to relieve a little tension and right now, Will needed to release
some of his pent up frustrations and if it was for a good cause even his mother
couldn’t object to that, now could she?

“Where do I sign up?”

“Really?” Alaric said, popping up straight, his
eyes alight. “I think you just have to tell the mayor.”

“Where do I find him?” Will asked.

Alaric pointed down the road. “He was out at the
McCallister place earlier today, but I think he’s back. He’s usually in the
restaurant having his supper about now. I’m sure you can find him there. If
not, I can take you to out to the McCallisters once I’m done at the mercantile.
It’ll give me a chance to see Abby.”

“Who’s Abby?”

“Just a girl. McCallister’s daughter.”

“You sweet on her?”

Alaric shrugged. “She’s like no other girl I’ve
ever met. And I find that interesting. I like being around her.”

Will nodded. He understood more than the kid
would ever know. “Good luck,” he said with a wave as he headed back in the
direction of the restaurant.

Maybe he would be staying in Silver Falls longer
than he’d anticipated. At least a day or two. As he approached the center of
town, he glanced sideways, his heart dropping into his gut. Elizabeth and the
preacher walked arm in arm up the side road laughing and talking comfortably.

At his size, it was unlikely Will could hide
behind the mercantile pillar. Instead, he stopped and flicked his hand in a
curt wave.

Elizabeth slipped her arm out from the preachers
and made her way over to him.

“Will,” she said, “I’d wondered where you’d
gone.” She brushed at her dress like he’d seen her do many times over the last
couple of days.

His hands balled into fists and opened again.

Why did she have to be so beautiful? He forced a
smile onto his face.

“I figured the two of you needed some time to get
to know each other. Marriage is a pretty big commitment.”

“Yes, it is,” the preacher said with an odd smile.
“Elizabeth, it’s been a pleasure. Remember what we talked about.” He met her
eyes meaningfully.

Will turned away from the sight, not wanting to
witness how well they got along.

“I have a pulpit that isn’t going to finish
itself,” the preacher said with a laugh.

He’s a carpenter too? What woman in her right
mind wouldn’t marry the man?

“Elizabeth, Miss Verla has a room all made up for
you over at her restaurant next to the old church.” Mac pointed to the quaint
little house-like structure with two large white pillars in front, obscured
slightly by a dilapidated old building. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant in an
hour and we can get some supper. I know the womenfolk around here are anxious
to meet you, but I think we can put them off until tomorrow.” He winked. “You
two must be exhausted, travelling all the way in from Denver today.”

“Thank you, Mac.” Elizabeth beamed at the pastor.
“I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Will,” Mac looked up at him, “it’s good to see
you again.” He tapped the brim of his hat.

Will returned the preacher’s nod, then watched as
the man strode up the street. He and Elizabeth seemed awfully cozy. Too cozy. What
had he expected? She was supposed to marry the man after all. He knew he should
be grateful that her intended was so…so perfect for her, yet somehow, that just
irked him all the more.

“So, you’re already on a first name basis with
Pastor MacKenzie?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Why, Will Redbourne,” her eyes narrowed at him
and her lips curved into a smile, “are you jealous?”

Hell yes.

“Of course not. Jealous? Me? Why would I have
reason to be jealous?”

Her eyes searched his for a moment. “Oh,” she
said with a quick shake of her head, “before I forget to tell you, there is a
big town bazaar tomorrow and they are going to be building the framework for a
new church and school.”

“So, I’ve heard.” Try as he might, he could not
keep the dryness from his voice.

“I know you probably want to get on the road as
soon as it’s light, but…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “…do you think you
might be willing to stay and help the others? They could use an extra set of
hands. And, I thought it would be ni—”

“I’ll be here,” he interrupted her. “I’ve been
invited to participate in a boxing match. All in the name of charity.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait. You’re staying
because…because you’re going to fight?”

“It’s all for a good cause.”

“But, I thought…never mind. So, you’re staying?”
She nodded to confirm.

“It looks like it.”

“And you’ll help with the school?”

“Yep.”

“Great.”

He tried to ignore the moisture that touched the
brims of her eyes.

“Great,” he replied flatly.

She picked up her dress with a nod of
acknowledgement and stepped past him before turning back.

The wet streak that extended from eye to chin did
not go unnoticed and Will’s gut ached with regret. He wanted to pull her into
his arms. To say he was sorry for being such a dolt. To kiss away her tears and
let her know that everything would be all right. He started forward.

“Thank you, Will. For…everything,” she said as
she adjusted the satchel around her shoulders, then whipped around, away from
him, and hopped up onto the boardwalk, heading the same direction as the pastor.

Now, he really felt like a heel. Would it have
been so hard for him to show a little courtesy, a little respect? His mother would
not be proud and guilt nudged at his gut. Again. He stood still and watched her
until she disappeared into the restaurant at the edge of the town’s center.

“Great,” he muttered aloud.

Alaric stepped out of the mercantile with a large
box in his arms. He loaded it into his wagon and started back up the stairs.
“Did you find the mayor?” he asked hopefully.

Will shook his head. “Haven’t made it that far
yet,” he said, taking a step up. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said,
picking up one of several crates that awaited the boy at the top of the porch.

“Thanks.”

“Mr. Johansson,” a rotund man with a big green
vest and yellow bowtie called from a few lengths down the boardwalk. “I have
been looking for you.” His red, bulbous nose twitched as he pulled a handkerchief
from his pocket. “ACHOO! Excuse me. I need to get some more of Miss Verla’s
honey. It seems to help. I think there is something in the air today and it’s
put me into fits.” He wiped his face and tucked the cloth back into his pocket.
“Mrs. Patterson tells me that you are friends with a real boxing champion from
England and that he is here right now in our very little town.”

Alaric’s ears turned a deep shade of red.

“Well, is it true?”

The kid hesitantly turned and looked at Will.

“Yes, sir,” he said aloud. “Sorry,” he mouthed in
Will’s direction.

Will chuckled as he stepped forward and held out
his hand to greet the man he guessed was the town mayor. “My name is Will
Redbourne, sir.”

“Redbourne, huh?” He mulled over the information
for a moment before continuing. “Any relation to Leah Redbourne, son?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised, since his
Granddad Deardon owned property here.

“Yes, sir. She’s my mother.”

“How delightful,” he said, clapping his hands
together. “I’ve known Leah since we were children. She and your uncles used to
spend countless…” he looked up and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m sure you
aren’t interested in such things.” He cleared his throat. “Are you the boxing
champion to which this young man was referring?”

Will cast a tired look at his younger friend. “I
don’t know about that, but I’ve won a few bouts in the ring.”

“Splendid. Splendid.” The man clasped his hands
tightly in front of him. “Oh, forgive me. I am Mayor Tuttle. Has Mr. Johansson
informed you about our little charity bazaar tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. He has.”

“Oh, good. Then, can we count you in as one of
the participants?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, this will bring folks from miles away.” He
spread his hands in the air as if rolling out a banner. “Leah Redbourne’s son,
a real honest-to-goodness fighter, here in Silver Falls. I’ll send Mitchell
Patterson over to Middleton at first light. We’ve got to spread the word.” He
clapped his hands again. “Leah Deardon’s son,” he said under his breath,
nodding unceasingly. “Good to have you here, my boy,” he said, slapping Will on
the shoulder. He turned to Alaric. “You take good care of him, Mr. Johansson.
And tell Miss Verla that she can put all of his meals on my tab.”

“Yes, sir!” Alaric said with enthusiasm.

After the mayor left, Alaric turned to him, his
tongue licking his lips. “Granddad’s not a bad cook by any means, but Miss
Verla’s cookin’ is almost as good as Lottie’s.”

The mention of his family cook, made Will’s
stomach grumble. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. It had been hours
since they’d eaten the pork medallions and cornbread from the café in Denver.

Will smiled, despite himself, as he thought of
their interactions near the river and he patted his pocket, the ruby necklace
inside of there a constant reminder of her.

Once the wagon was loaded, Alaric climbed up onto
the bench. “You’re not staying at the old Deardon place, are ya?” he asked.

Truth was, Will hadn’t thought much about his
accommodations for the night. He knew his Granddad Deardon had purchased
several homesteads and parcels of land here, but until now, the stories about
the man’s adventures had been just that. Stories. “Is it even still standing?”

“Barely,” Alaric said with a laugh. “Hey, why
don’t you come home with me. I know granddad would want you to. As soon as I
drop off these supplies, we’ll come back and eat at Miss Verla’s. Granddad
would like that too.”

Will had never met Alaric’s grandfather, but he
knew that Friedrich Johansson and his own granddad had been friends many years
ago. “All right,” he said as he climbed up on the wagon next to the kid. “Let’s
go.”

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and waited
at the table near the window for Mac to arrive. Several townspeople had stopped
by to introduce themselves and to welcome her to town. The bell above the door
rang and she glanced up to see Will. He met her eyes with a smile, tipped his
hat in her direction, then followed a young boy and an older man, with white
hair and a cane, to a table on the opposite end of the restaurant.

As if he didn’t already occupy the majority of
her thoughts…

She stood up and moved to the seat across the
table that faced the window. She didn’t want to stare at his back all through
supper—or worse, his handsomely chiseled face.

“May I join you?”

Mac pulled out his chair and sat down. He’d
changed his clothes into a nice pair of dark brown trousers and a blue shirt
that matched the color of his eyes. His clean-shaven face and combed hair
reminded Elizabeth that he was not only a preacher, but a man.
Honest-to-goodness fine-looking man.

“Nothing like a man taking his beautiful,
would-be mail-order-bride to dinner to cause him to reflect on his destiny.”

“Reflection looks good on you.” The words were
out before she could stop them. Heat rose in her face and she folded her lips
together.

Mac laughed out loud, evoking in her an uneasy
giggle.

Miss Verla walked up to the table and set a plate
of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes in front of each of them. “I’ve got
some warm pie and custard in the kitchen,” she said with a wink.

“Thank you.” Mac nodded at the woman. “Harold is
a lucky man to have won your hand, Verla.”

The woman lit up under his praise. “I’ll be back
with that pie,” she said with a wink.

The meal was delicious and Mac charming. In
another time, another place, Mac would be the perfect suitor, the perfect
husband, but right now, she couldn’t get Will out of her mind.

Stars twinkled in the vast open sky and the scent
of burning pine from someone’s fire left a light trail in the air. Elizabeth
stepped out onto the boardwalk while Mac waited for Verla to box up one of her
pies.

Lights from the hotel flickered across the street
and reminded her of the estate back home. She yearned for a warm bath and bed
to rest her weary form. She leaned against one of the large wooden pillars
adorning Miss Verla’s porch.

The door opened and Will stepped out of the
restaurant onto the boardwalk followed by his supper mates. He strolled down
the steps and stopped to help the old man climb up onto the seat in the wagon.

“You have to tell him before it’s too late.”

She hadn’t seen Mac leave the restaurant and
jumped with surprise at the sound of his voice behind her. She breathed a laugh
and shook her head.

“He’s leaving.” Her head rested against the
pillar. “There’s a boat, a ship,” she corrected, “waiting in Boston to take him
back to England.”

“And you don’t want to go. Because of your
father?”

She nodded. “I do not want any part of that
life.” She turned to look at the handsome preacher. “How is it that I have
known you only a few hours and you know more about me than almost anyone in the
world?”

He chuckled. “It comes with the collar,” he said,
his smile revealing a small dimple at the corner of his mouth. “I tend to have
that effect on people.”

She turned back to her post and rested her head
against the wood as the small wagon disappeared around the smithy and out of
sight.

“Did you find your room upstairs acceptable?” he
asked.

“Yes, quite. Thank you.” She reached into her
pocket and pulled out the money she’d intended to use to cover her expenses.
“Miss Verla said that you have already paid for the room, but I cannot let you
do that.” She handed him the money. “Not now. You have done so much for me
already.”

“Nonsense. You, Miss Elizabeth Archer, are worth
every penny. And, since the other two brides have not yet arrived, I imagine you’ll
have the place to yourself—except for Verla, of course. She lives in the
section in the back.” Mac took a step down onto the street and looked back at
her. He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and rested it
behind her ear. “I’ll just be down the street at the parsonage on the other
side of the mercantile if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Mac.” She leaned down and kissed him
lightly on the cheek.

He nodded. “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

There was a lot to think about. Mac was a good
man with a good heart. He would be a good husband, of that she had no doubt,
but he was right. Elizabeth had fallen in love with the outrider, despite her
best intentions. But even if he felt the same, she didn’t know if she could
return to England after everything that had happened and she would not be the
one to stop him from living his dream.

The night air had grown chilly and she briskly
rubbed at her arms before resigning to the evening. A good night’s sleep would
help her to think more clearly in the morning.

She hoped.

Saturday

It had been a while since Will had awoken to the
cock’s crow. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, watching the morning’s
rays bouncing across the room, before shoving the covers aside. He sat up,
rubbed his face with both hands, and took a deep breath.

He appreciated the Johanssons’ hospitality. It
had been a while since he’d had a good night’s sleep in a real bed. And it had
been a long time since he’d stepped into an actual ring. Even though today’s
match was for a good cause, the old pressures still weighed on his gut like
MaryBeth Hutchinson’s fruitcake. Just the thought made him groan.

After today, he’d be making all the necessary preparations
and then in a few weeks’ time, headed for England.

England.

He reached for his clothes. When he pulled his
trousers off the back of the large armchair next to the bed, Elizabeth’s ruby
necklace tumbled out onto the floor. The sun’s rays glinted off the deep red
gem. He picked it up, the cool metal chain draping across his hand, the ruby
pendant dangling, glittering in the light.

Elizabeth deserved a happy life. And if that life
did not include him, he would bow out graciously. He closed his fist over the
jewelry and closed his eyes.

Time to go.

He slipped the necklace back into his pocket and
proceeded to dress. In another half hour, his horse was saddled and he was
ready to leave. Alaric and his grandfather were already loaded on the wagon.
Will was impressed at how young Mr. Johansson still seemed. The old man had
hurt his leg working with one of his horses last month, but another week or so
and he would be as spry as any of them.

The Johansson stead was only a couple of miles
from town. The days were getting warmer and Will was grateful that they had
opted to start work on the church and school house early instead of waiting
until the sun sat high in the sky.

When they pulled up to the building site, the
place was already booming with men, women, and children hustling about in
anxious preparation.

“We appreciate your coming, Mr. Redbourne,” the
pastor said as soon as Will walked up to the meadow just beyond the mercantile.
“We can use all the hands we can get. And I understand you are quite handy with
a hammer and nails.”

He supposed that anyone who’d grown up on a horse
ranch would know his way around the tools and shrugged. “I’ve built my fair
share of fences.”

Mac smiled and clapped him on the back.

Elizabeth stood behind a table, adorned with a
long white cloth, pouring several large glasses of lemonade. When she looked
up, Will couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Her hair had been
pulled back on the sides, but the length of it was curled, cascading down her
shoulders, and she wore a cornflower blue dress that matched the color of her
eyes. She waved, then picked up another glass, biting her lip with a smile.
Will groaned.

Why did the preacher have to be a good guy?

With the majority of the menfolk in the town
helping, the frame for the schoolhouse was erected before lunch. He imagined
that it would probably take a few weeks for them to finish the building to any
respectable level.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a
handkerchief as he leaned up against the hitching post, waiting for a spot to
open near the water pump. It seemed unusually warm for a day this early in the
year. Men surrounded the table where the ladies were dosing out lemonade, the
preacher at the front of the line.

Elizabeth handed the man a tall glass full of the
frosty drink and laughed at something he said. Will kicked at the dirt, willing
the men in front of the pump to go faster. He wanted to dunk his entire head
below the cold water.

Enough of this. Either get the girl or let her
go.

“Thought you might could use a drink.”

Will looked up to see Mac holding out one of the
frosty glasses of lemonade for him. How had he gotten over to him so quickly?

“Don’t mind if I do.” He took the glass and took
a small swig.

“Elizabeth’s quite a lady,” Mac said, leaning
over the top of the post.

“I’m aware.” He wiped the excess from his lip
with the back of his forefinger.

A few moments of silence passed between them.

“Alaric wasn’t wrong. You really are good with a
hammer. I don’t know that we could have got this frame up so quickly without
your help. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“Don’t be so modest.”

Funny—his mama would say he needed to develop a
better sense of modesty.

“So, the mayor tells me you’ll be fighting this
evening in the ring.”

“Yep.”

“You really a regional champion?”

Alaric!

“It’s just a title.” One that had come at a great
cost.

“Well, all the same. I wish you luck.”

“I haven’t ever known a preacher that condoned
fighting.”

“Well, now, it’s for charity. Besides, it’s not
fighting. It’s boxing. I would have thought you, of all people, would know the
difference.” He nudged Will, a grin set on his face.

It was hard not to like the man.

“So, Preacher, what brought you to Silver Falls?”

He needed to know that he would be leaving
Elizabeth in good hands.

“It was time for a change of scenery. When this
parsonage opened, an old friend of mine recommended me for the position, and
well, here I am.”

Could he have been any more ambiguous?

“How long have you been here?”

“Since March.”

Will turned to look at him, surprised by the
information. By the way the people here embraced and admired the reverend, he
would have thought that the man had been here for years. That still didn’t mean
anything. Swindlers made a living doing the same thing.

“Where were you before this?”