No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(62)
“Mind your own business,” he growled at them. “You’re out of your jam. I’m mired chest deep in mine.”
“Sounds like a sticky situation.”
Mal jerked to the left, then spun toward the small side door that led to the house. “Bertie.” He swallowed hard. Great. Just what he didn’t need. “Why aren’t you . . . ah . . . with the others at the store?”
She waved a hand in the air. “I’ve always been more of a pacifist than most. Drives Henry crazy.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’ll do my part to keep watch, but I’ll not be purchasing a gun.”
Somehow he wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t quite picture his gentle, bighearted aunt pointing a loaded weapon at another human being. He’d barely gotten her to hold the unloaded practice gun at the café the other day. It was only when Emma told her that she needed to set an example for the other ladies that Bertie had given in.
“I won’t be showing up for shooting practice either, young man,” she said when he opened his mouth to offer her the use of his rifle for just that purpose. She pointed her finger at him as if taking him to task for even suggesting such a thing. Which he hadn’t. Yet. Because she shushed him before he could. The woman could read minds the way a schoolmarm read books. Or so it seemed to Mal. Ten years hadn’t dulled her skills one iota.
She brushed past him and moved to the tack shelves. There she found a bottle that had tipped over during his little steam-letting session and righted it. “Someone’s got to keep watch in town, after all, while everyone is out at target practice. I’ll be up in the steeple keeping an eye on things with Lewis. We’ll ring the bell if we see anything suspicious.”
Mal stilled. She was right. The attackers would hear the gunfire. Realize they’d been tricked. But they’d also be able to scout the area and determine that everyone had gathered by the church, leaving the rest of town unguarded. They’d not take a chance straight on against so many weapons, but what would stop them from setting another fire or destroying property? The store. Emma’s bank. The clinic. They could do serious damage to the women’s livelihoods.
“That’s a good thought, Aunt Bert. Think I’ll put Porter on guard, too. He might still be under the weather, but another pair of eyes will be good to have around.” Especially if those eyes were attached to a man who actually carried a gun and possibly even a grudge against the men attacking.
Bertie turned and smiled. “Yes. I’m so glad the ladies voted to allow that dear Mr. Porter to stay on until these difficulties are dealt with. I’ll sleep better knowing we have another capable man about the place.”
“Porter’s staying?” Could this be the answer Mal sought? Could he turn the women over to Porter? The thought soured his tongue. Tasted an awful lot like quitting.
“Just until the unpleasantries are sorted out.” Bertie sauntered closer and winked up at him. “He says he wants to stay because those bandits dragged him into our business by attacking him on the road. But if you ask me, he has another reason altogether. Two, actually. One with blond hair and a head for business. The other with short pants and a severe case of hero worship.” She tapped Mal’s arm and tittered, her eyes alight with merriment and some kind of hidden message that made his mouth go a little bit dry. “I do so adore watching young people fall in love. Some tumble as easily as a pecan dropping from a tree in the fall wind. Others fight against it with everything they have.” She paused and stared up at him.
His palms grew moist. She couldn’t know. Surely. He kept those feeling bottled up tight. She couldn’t—
“Victoria’s a fighter,” Bertie continued, breaking contact with his gaze to turn her face toward the main barn entrance. “Benjamin Porter’s going to have his hands full.” She grinned then, her face nothing but sweetness and light. The weight on Mal’s chest eased just enough to draw in a full breath.
Taking the offensive, Mal cleared his throat. “Better not be meddling in their affairs, Bertie.” He gave her a stern look—which she completely ignored. Instead she smiled and slipped her arm through his as if he were fifteen again and they were having “how to be a gentleman” lessons.
“I never meddle, dear.” She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “But I do make myself available to give advice. Should someone find themselves in a prickly predicament.” She looked meaningfully at him. “Say, like the one that had you drumming the walls a minute ago.”
Mal tensed. “Thanks all the same, Aunt Bert, but I can handle that one on my own.”
“Yes. I heard you handling it all the way from the kitchen.”
He tugged his arm free and turned to confront her about her poor definition of “never meddling,” but she held up a hand to stop him before a single word made it past his lips.
“Don’t give me that obstinate look, Malachi Shaw. I’m not going to wheedle anything out of you. We’re all entitled to a few secrets. I just wanted to let you know that I’m available to listen should you need an extra pair of ears.”
That shut him up. Apparently her definition matched his after all.
“Besides, there’s someone else who can help you more than I ever could. One who already knows the details of what’s plaguing you.”
Grace? The telegraph operator seemed nice and all, but Mal wasn’t about to discuss such a private matter with her.