No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(104)
Porter had stayed in Seymour to get caught up on overdue shipments as well as to oversee the building of his new freight wagon. He’d also convinced his brother to give Andrew a job at his livery. The kid was a natural with horses, and since his pay included meals and a place to sleep, Mal figured he’d make out just fine. Trail might be a tad lonely without the kid along, but the boy needed stability, something Mal couldn’t offer right now. Even if he found work quickly, a rail camp was no place to raise a kid.
Taking hold of Ulysses’s reins, Mal led the animal out of the barn and around to the front of the station house. No voices echoed within. No pots and pans rattled, no shoe heels clicked on the wood floors. Deserted. Empty. Downright depressing.
Well, at least the ladies had made the rounds yesterday to say their good-byes.
Maybelle had added a couple of stitches to his shoulder and given him a sack of clean bandages and salve along with strict instructions on how to tend the wound. Betty had ordered him to keep a sharp eye out for bandits while he traveled. Grace offered to wire his former employer on his behalf, but he’d turned her down, wanting to start somewhere fresh. Tori had gifted him with two new boxes of cartridges for his rifle and a leather satchel for carrying his additional belongings, which he needed after Henry loaded him down with a thick stack of writing paper, pens, and ink, and Bertie heaped more food on him than he could possibly eat in a week.
The only person he hadn’t said good-bye to was Emma.
Mal clenched his jaw and forced his boots to keep walking, one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t looking forward to this last farewell. Saying good-bye to the aunts had been hard enough this morning. They’d both put a good face on things, but if they felt even a fraction of the tearing pain he did at the prospect of being separated from the only family he’d ever known—again—they’d hidden more hurt than they’d let show. Of course, they might’ve already made peace with his leaving. He’d been gone for ten years, after all. Easy enough to slip back into old habits.
Ulysses snorted as he clomped along. Mal sighed, as well, then forced his chin up. He had plenty of lonely miles ahead to wallow in the doldrums. He needed to put on a cheerful face for Emma. Show his support of her work. Let her know how proud he was of the woman she’d become. Not to mention drinking in the sight of her one last time, memorizing each line and curve so he’d be able to carry her image in his mind.
Pulling up to Tori’s store, he tossed Ulysses’s reins over the hitching post and leaned his back against the railing to wait. All the women had congregated inside the café next door for a meeting or planning session or some such gathering. He hadn’t been invited.
He’d barely settled in when the café’s door creaked open. Emma stepped onto the boardwalk and descended to the street. She was so beautiful. Her prim banker’s suit with the dark blue jacket and matching skirt showed off her slim waist and delicate figure. The white shirtwaist drew his gaze up to the slender line of her throat, the curve of her cheek, and the few tendrils of black, curly hair blowing in the breeze that refused to be tamed by her topknot.
He straightened away from the railing, his arms aching to hold her one last time, his lips starving for another taste of her sweetness. He locked down the impulses but could do nothing to slow the racing of his heart or the twisting in his gut.
She stopped two steps away from him, just out of reach. “So you’re really leaving.” Her green eyes accused him, making his gut clench tighter as guilt tangled around the knot already there.
He tried to shrug it off, to make some flippant comment about it being time since he’d done what he came to do, but he couldn’t. Not with her eyes flashing green fire at him—fire that couldn’t quite hide the pain lingering behind the sparks.
She deserved the truth from him. It might not change anything, but he’d not tuck tail and run with so much unsaid between them.
“You should at least wait until Sheriff Tabor gets back,” she said before he could find the words he sought. “Deputy Lang mentioned there was a reward for finding the gold. That money belongs to you.”
Mal shook his head. “Nah. The gold was in your house, and I destroyed most of the basement to get to it. Keep what you need to make repairs and give the rest to Flora. She and Ned need a chance to make a fresh start.”
“But what if I need you again?” Something broke in her voice this time, as if her control was as much of an illusion as his was.
His gaze flew to hers. Moisture glistened. Not tears, Emma. Please. I’ll never make it if you cry.
Even as the thought ran through his head, she blinked the moisture away and straightened her shoulders. His brave little soldier once again. Somehow that made his heart ache all the more.
Stepping closer, he took her hand and clasped it between both of his. “I’ll come whenever you call, Em. You know I will. I . . .” He glanced down at the dirt, then forced his gaze back up to her face. “I love you. I think I have since the day you found me shivering in your aunts’ barn and told me you were gonna keep me.” Mal shook his head and ducked his chin. “I want to keep you, Em. More than I ever wanted anything in my life.”
She gave a little gasp, and her free hand flew to cover her mouth as if reliving the kiss they’d shared . . . and the truth it had revealed.
He stroked her fingers, surrounding their coolness with the warmth of his palms even as his heart cracked straight down the middle. “But you have a life here. An important life ministering to women who need you. It’s your calling. Your God-given purpose. I’d never ask you to leave that. It’s who you are.”