No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(60)

Mal cleared his throat and backed away a couple steps. “I’ll . . . uh . . . see you in about thirty minutes, then.”

Emma nodded. “Behind the church. We’ll be ready.”

He held her gaze an instant longer, the contact playing further havoc with her heart rate as unspoken words seemed to hang in the air between them. Then he turned his back and led the horses through the corral gate. Emma did her part, as well, returning to the bench and driving her team over to Tori’s store.

As she pulled up, a flood of women poured out of the café and immediately started digging through the contents of the wagon.

“Ladies.” Tori swept out of the store with a large crate in hand. Her voice carried above the clamor as she descended to the street. “I’ve cleared off the yardage table inside. Let Miss Chandler and me bring in the goods and lay them out for you to make your selections. I have a price chart already prepared, so we’ll be able to finalize your sales quickly. It will just take a moment to set everything up.”

Emma hurried to meet her at the rear of the wagon and helped her shoo away eager hands. “Sorry,” she murmured under her breath after the ladies retreated. “I guess I should have driven around to the back.”

“I doubt it would have mattered.” Tori layered rifles into Emma’s waiting arms. “They would have followed you. Everyone is still worked up by the attack on Mr. Porter. They’re eager to gain some means of personal protection.”

“How is he faring?” Emma inquired as Tori filled the crate with handguns and ammunition boxes.

“Maybelle took him down to the clinic and is watching over him there.” Tori dragged the crate to the edge of the wagon bed, climbed down, then turned to retrieve it. Gripping the handholds firmly, she grimaced slightly as the weight of the box pulled on her arms. But Tori had worked in shops her entire life. She was used to carting heavy loads. So with a straight spine, she marched up the stairs and into her store.

Emma followed.

“It took five stitches to seal that gash on his head.” Tori turned down the fabric aisle. “The entire time Maybelle worked on him, he barely made a sound. Just sat there still as a statue.”

Tori’s voice held an undercurrent of wonder, possibly even respect. Emma couldn’t help but grin.

“You should see the clever contraption he rigged in his freight wagon to keep his cargo safe. It was completely disguised. Quite ingenious, really. If he hadn’t told me where to look, I doubt we would have found the cache, even knowing it was there.” She reached the table and carefully dropped the rifles onto its surface. The clatter of steel on wood broke off their conversation for the moment.

Emma immediately started sorting the long guns into two piles, shotguns and rifles, while Tori organized the revolvers and ammunition.

“Do you know the outcome of the vote regarding Mr. Porter staying on for a few days?” Emma asked.

“Permission has been granted,” Tori confirmed. “Nearly unanimously. Only two ladies voted against.”

“Are you all right with that? I know you weren’t eager to have Mr. Porter around any longer than necessary.”

“I put my personal feelings aside.” Tori stacked the last of the ammunition boxes, then reached for the price chart she’d written out and arranged it in the center of the table, never once meeting Emma’s gaze. “Having another man around will improve our chances of winning this standoff. It would be foolish to put my own comfort ahead of the well-being of the entire town.”

Emma touched her friend’s arm. “Thank you.”

Tori nodded, then stepped back from the table. “The display’s not up to my usual standards, but it’ll do for now.” She glanced toward the shop door. “Go ahead and let them in. I’ll fetch my receipt book.”

Emma moved to the front of the store, opened the door, and waved the ladies inside. As they filed through, she found herself scrutinizing each one, wishing she could determine the identity of the two who had voted against letting Mr. Porter stay. One of them was most likely the traitor. Unfortunately, there was no way to know who cast the dissenting votes. In true democratic fashion, they always performed their elections by secret ballot.

Betty Cooper pushed her way to the front of the crowd and doled out advice and instructions to the ladies as they made their selections. Emma expected to see Grace there as well, but the telegraph operator was the last to walk through the door, and when she did, she stopped in front of Emma instead of proceeding to the gun table.

“Miss Chandler? Did Mr. Shaw return to town with you?”

“Yes.” Emma frowned over the troubled look in the young woman’s eyes. “He’s at the station house, tending to Mr. Porter’s horses.”

Grace nodded and turned as if to leave. Frissons of disquiet prickled Emma’s neck. She reached out and caught the young lady’s arm. “Did something happen while we were away?”

Grace smiled as if to reassure, but the gesture failed to reach her eyes. “He received a telegram. That’s all. I’ll deliver it and return shortly.”

“A telegram? From whom? The county land office?” Perhaps they’d found something of interest regarding Harper’s Station’s mineral or water rights.

“You know I’m not at liberty to say. All Western Union correspondence is held in the strictest confidence. If you want to discuss the contents, you’ll need to talk to Mr. Shaw directly.”