No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(52)

“His advocacy can’t hurt.” Emma reached for the small set of keys she always kept in her pocket. She unlocked the door that separated the customer lobby from the more secure area behind the counter. After closing and locking it again behind her, she moved into the first teller window and fingered the key that would unlock the money drawer. Looking up at Maybelle through the protective bars, she smiled. “His prayers on our behalf will be much appreciated, as well.” She slipped the drawer key into the lock and turned it until that catch popped free. “Now, what can I help you with this morning?”

“Thought I better withdraw some funds, what with the new shipment coming in today. Twenty ought to do it.”

“Very well.” Emma pulled one ten-dollar bill and two fives from her drawer, then counted them into the shallow divot carved into the counter beneath the barred window. Maybelle had a policy against buying anything on credit. Her late husband had been a wastrel who’d left her with a pile of debt after his death. If she didn’t have the cash to pay for something, she did without. Thankfully, her midwifery skills had allowed her to recover her losses after a couple of lean years, and her stint as doctor for Harper’s Station had only improved her lot.

Emma made a note in the account book she kept locked in the till. At the end of the day, she’d transcribe the transaction into the main ledger she stored in the vault.

“Anything else I can do for you?” Emma asked as Maybelle folded the bank notes and stuffed them into her purse.

“That should do me for a while, I think.”

Emma nodded and slid the money drawer closed. She had just turned the key in the lock when Lewis burst through the front door.

His head swiveled from side to side, his wide-eyed gaze zeroing in on Emma. “Miss Chandler! Come quick. My ma needs you!”

Emma’s stomach clenched. All tiredness fled from her bones, leaving a desperate energy humming through her. Grabbing the teller door key and forcing it into the lock with trembling fingers, she called out to the boy. “I’m coming!”

“What’s happened?” Maybelle asked as Emma fumbled with the door.

For pity’s sake, why would the stubborn thing not open?

Finally the key slid home and the lock turned. She threw the door wide and slammed it shut behind her. Taking precious seconds to lock it back, she nearly missed Lewis’s answer.

“He’s hurt,” Lewis sputtered. “He’s hurt real bad.”

Emma’s heart screamed a denial. Please, God. Not Malachi. But who else could it be? There were no other men in Harper’s Station.

“I’ll go fetch my doctorin’ kit and meet you there,” Maybelle said, already hurrying out the door.

Emma met Lewis’s worried gaze, her own heart pounding so loudly in her chest she was surprised it didn’t echo off the rafters. “Is he at the store?” she asked.

Tori’s son gave a sharp nod and took off like a shot. Emma followed, barely pausing long enough to pull the bank door closed as she ran.





19


Emma’s shoes pounded against the boardwalk. Lewis didn’t dash through the main store entrance as she expected but sprinted around the far corner. Snatching a handful of skirt to keep from tripping on the stairs to the street, Emma followed without question. She had to reach Malachi. Wherever he was.

Wagon ruts in the dirt created an alleyway of sorts and then turned right, around the building. Lewis disappeared into the back storeroom. Emma increased her pace to catch up but twisted her ankle as her heel caught on the uneven ground. Wincing at the twinge, she recovered and continued on, keeping her gaze glued to the ground so as not to repeat her folly.

Had Mal been helping Tori with her merchandise? Had the shipment of guns arrived while Emma had been dozing at her desk? But no. The freight wagon would be here. And even as tired as she’d been, surely she would have heard . . .

Her imagination raced faster than her feet as she rounded the corner. Had he been cut? Had a pile of heavy boxes smashed his skull? Would he die?

She gained the doorway and rushed inside. Then stumbled to a halt. For there stood Malachi. Tall. Strong. Unharmed.

Or was he? Blood and dirt smeared the tan fabric of his shirt. Yet he was talking, giving orders.

“Stay here,” he commanded. “I’ll fetch them.” He took a step toward the door, then growled and lurched back the way he’d come. “I swear if you get out of that chair one more time I’m going to shoot you myself.”

Emma’s exhausted brain struggled to make sense of the scene. Hard to do when her gaze refused to leave Malachi to see whom he might be speaking to.

“I’ll keep him here, Mr. Shaw.” Tori’s voice. “You can go.”

Malachi nodded and turned toward the door. He came up short when he saw her. His eyes warmed for a minute, then cooled to businesslike efficiency. “Good. You’re here. It’ll likely take two of you to keep the fool from going after his pets.” Mal pivoted sideways to squeeze past her and out the door.

She had no idea what pets he was talking about. This whole episode left her feeling a bit like Alice, fallen down a rabbit hole into some kind of nonsensical world. All she knew was that she couldn’t let her rabbit scamper off without answering one vital question.

“Wait!” she called, stirring from her stupor enough to dash after Malachi and lunge for his arm. Her fingers closed over his sleeve, and he stopped.