No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(50)
Helen. Malachi jerked his head up, looking for the timid woman. Had he scared her off?
“Don’t worry. She ain’t here.” Betty pointed her shotgun toward the boardinghouse. “I sent her to fetch that ancient revolver Miss Daisy offered. Thing’s as old as dirt, and we don’t have any proper ammunition for it, but I figured it would be good for Helen to get used to holding a weapon. I can give her some pointers on aiming the thing while we pass the time. Then when the new guns arrive, she’ll be more prepared.”
“Good idea.” And since Helen was still on Emma’s list of suspects, he felt a bit better knowing she wouldn’t have a loaded weapon tonight. Of course, pairing her with Betty was a boon, too. Not much got past the plain-spoken woman. “Who’s set to relieve you?”
“We got the eight to midnight shift, then Grace and Maybelle have the watch until four. Figured we needed gals who owned weapons on duty the first couple nights before Tori’s shipment comes in.”
“Miss Mallory’s tiny pistol won’t serve much purpose up in the steeple,” Mal said with a frown.
“That’s why I’m leaving my shotgun with her. But I’ve warned the ladies not to shoot at shadows. We’re here to watch and report, not start a gunfight. The last thing we need is for some nervous female to get spooked when something moves and end up hitting one of our own.”
“Agreed.” A bit of the tension that had coiled in Mal’s shoulders dissipated. “Everyone knows where to find me, right?”
Betty frowned as if not altogether pleased with his presumption that he’d be the one they ran to if trouble erupted. “I told ’em if they spot something suspicious, they’re to alert Emma at the station house.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “You might be the hired gun, Shaw, but Emma’s still the one callin’ the shots around here. We report to her, not you. If she wants to bring you in, that’s fine, but we aren’t lettin’ you take the place over just because you think you know best. We don’t need a man to do our thinkin’ for us. Got that?”
Mal was in no mood for the woman’s hardheaded feminism. “Save your sermonizing for a day when two masked bandits haven’t just shot up your town.” He straightened to his full height and took a step toward her.
She didn’t back up, but he hadn’t expected her to. He just needed to make it clear that he wasn’t going to let her or any of the women castrate him when he was the only one standing between them and a pair of gun-happy outlaws.
“I have no interest in running this town,” Mal emphasized each word, praying they’d somehow penetrate the woman’s stubborn hide and sink into her brain. “Emma is far better qualified for that role than I will ever be. But right now, your enemies have the skill, the training, and the weapons that you lack. I’m your best chance at evening those odds.”
Betty harrumphed, obviously unhappy with his pronouncement, but she made no further argument. A good sign. The crotchety chicken farmer might just be warming up to him.
Thankfully, with Mal sleeping in the barn, he’d hear anyone who came to the station house looking for Emma, so he wouldn’t need to countermand Betty’s instructions, a chore that would certainly undo any goodwill he’d just scavenged for himself. Besides, he planned to cover the four-to-six shift every morning. Most people assumed that if they’d made it through the darkest hours of night with no incidents they were in the clear. But a canny attacker, like the one laying siege to Harper’s Station, could easily turn such beliefs to his advantage. If Mal were the outlaw, that was precisely the tack he would take. Wait until vigilance was low, use the encroaching light of dawn to his advantage, and strike before the rooster crowed.
Mal spotted Helen approaching, the old revolver dangling loosely in front of her skirt. She glanced up and stuttered to a halt. Mal took that as his cue. He gathered his discarded tools and the empty nail jar and fingered the brim of his hat.
“I’ll be on my way, then.” He raised his voice and managed a small wave in Helen’s direction without dropping the hammer tucked beneath his arm. “Have a good night, ladies.”
He prayed they would. Have a good night. A quiet night. Free from attack or any malicious furtive activity. He doubted the men who’d ridden through town earlier today would strike again so soon. If they kept to their pattern, they would take a day or two to regroup before making another attempt to drive the women out. Perhaps they would wait for information to be passed from their spy before crafting their next move.
The thought had Mal pivoting back toward the women. “Mrs. Cooper?”
Both women’s backs were turned. Helen flinched at the sound of his voice and made no effort to face him. Betty shooed the girl on into the church, then glanced behind to meet Malachi’s gaze. “Yeah?”
“I want a report on all activity. Even the women. If you see Maybelle or Claire making a house call in the middle of the night or Aunt Henry lighting the kitchen lamp to get a late-night snack, I want to know about it. The better I understand the women’s activities, the better I can protect them.” Especially from the traitor in their midst.
Betty looked at him long and hard until something that felt like understanding zinged through the air between them. Finally she gave a sharp nod. “I’ll make sure the second watch knows and tell the others after worship tomorrow.”