No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(25)
“Where are you leading me, Lord?” Emma whispered as she slowed her step in the hall and peered into the small parlor. Bertie was plying Malachi with cookies and asking questions about his work while Aunt Henry shook his coat out over the entryway floor, away from the rug, wagging her head over the amount of dust that fell. And Malachi? Well, when Bertie turned to place the cookie plate on the small table between his chair and the sofa, he slid one of the two cookies he’d taken into his lap, covering it with his napkin.
Emma’s lips trembled slightly. He still saved back food. The sight struck a chord deep within her breast. After all these years. A man grown with steady employment and a wage that reflected the danger of his work. Yet he hid food in his napkin as if he were still the half-starved boy she’d found in her barn.
The boy who’d first given her purpose. Now the man who’d left his job to answer her call for help.
Emma pressed her lips together and straightened her shoulders. Whatever feelings had stirred inside her upon seeing him again must be set aside. Malachi hadn’t come all this way to renew an old acquaintance. He’d come to lend his aid. Aid that the women of Harper’s Station dearly needed.
Time to focus on what was truly important.
Emma’s light tread on the floorboards brought Malachi’s head up, but he masked the rest of his reaction. A pretty remarkable feat given the staccato thumping of his heart against his ribs. He better get used to the grown-up Emma soon, or this was going to be an uncomfortable few days.
“There you are, Emma.” Bertie bustled over to her niece and ushered her to the chair directly beside the one Mal sat in. Great. As if being in the same room wasn’t bad enough, the woman had to sit within touching distance.
Mal glared at the large quilt frame shoved against the adjoining wall. There would have been more room to spread the furnishings out had it not been for the oversized wooden frame. What was it doing here, anyway? The aunts didn’t even like sewing. Nor did Emma. But there the thing sat in their parlor, the red and tan squares stretched atop it, taunting him. Maybe he should go unpack his gear in the barn.
“Malachi was just telling us about his railroad work, weren’t you, dear?” Bertie smiled at Mal, dashing his hopes for escape as she took her seat on the sofa. “It must be so exciting to see history unfolding right before your eyes. The wheels of progress continually turning.” Her eager smile was so enthusiastic and genuine, Mal couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride in his meager accomplishments. But then he remembered why he had come to Harper’s Station.
Bertie might be acting as if his visit was nothing more than a long overdue social call, but he couldn’t afford to pretend. Danger stalked these ladies. The very ladies who’d taken him in, seen to his needs, mothered him. And Emma, his brave little angel, the one bright spot in a childhood of darkness. She was counting on him to protect the colony she’d built. He’d not waste time playing house when he could be gathering the information he needed to stop the man threatening her.
“Now that Emma’s here,” Mal said, “I think we should discuss other, more urgent matters.”
Bertie’s smile tightened a bit but didn’t fade. “Of course. It’s just that we haven’t seen you in so long, and—”
“Leave the boy be, Bert.” Henry hung Mal’s coat on a wall hook, then slid onto the yellow sofa cushion next to her sister. “There’ll be time enough to get caught up on the pleasantries later. Malachi’s obviously chomping at the bit to figure out what’s going on here. Always was a worrier, that one.” Henry arched a brow at him, her lips twitching ever so slightly at one corner, as if unwilling to admit to her teasing. He’d missed the challenge of ferreting out her subtle humor. “Emma,” Henry said, “tell him about the church.”
With nowhere else to look, Mal turned his gaze on Emma, and for the first time noticed the shadows beneath her lovely green eyes and the strain evident in the tiny lines around her mouth. As much as Emma believed in community and women helping women, she was still the leader here, the one people looked to for answers, for solutions to their problems. A heavy burden for one so young.
“I had called a meeting a few days ago to discuss the threatening note Tori and I found nailed to the church door.”
Mal’s brow furrowed. “Note? Porter didn’t say anything about a note.”
Emma tilted her head. “You’ve met Mr. Porter?”
Mal nodded as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his palms along the length of his thighs. “Met him in Seymour after I got in today.” No need to add to their worries by mentioning the altercation with Fischer. “I was looking for directions to Harper’s Station. He overheard me asking a shopkeeper about the best route to take, then cornered me outside to ask what business I had here. Wanted to make sure I intended you ladies no harm.”
“Always did like that brawny fellow.”
“Henry!” Aunt Bertie gasped.
“What?” Henry shrugged. “The man’s built like a grizzly. It’s not like you haven’t noticed.”
Alberta Chandler blushed. “Good heavens. Benjamin Porter’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman, going out of his way to help our Miss Adams with her supplies and shipping our goods at modest prices. He should be spoken of with respect.”