No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(72)
He’d started reaching for her hand but jerked back. “Emma? Mr. Shaw’s Emma? The angel?”
Angel? Where had that come from? No matter. There was more important information to glean. “You know Mr. Shaw?”
The boy grinned and dropped off the horse so fast, Emma had to leap back to keep her toes from being smashed. “Know him? He and me are partners.” There went the chest sticking out again. The manly display didn’t last long, though. Boyish enthusiasm overpowered it in a blink. “We both worked on the Burlington up in Montana until Mr. Shaw quit four days ago. That’s why I’m here. I brought his stuff.”
Emma stepped backward, the sudden news throwing her off balance. “Malachi quit his job?” Why would he do such a thing? He loved working with the railroads. Was good at it, too. One of the most respected explosive expects in the field. Not that he’d ever made the claim himself. She’d learned of his prowess on her own. After Mal had written her about taking the railroad job, she’d had her broker check into the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad. The man provided her with glowing reports testifying to the savvy of their investors and the capabilities of their crew, including one Malachi Shaw, touted as the best blaster in the business.
The boy didn’t seem to notice her distress. In fact, he grew increasingly more animated as his enthusiasm took over. “You should’ve seen the boss man’s face when he got Shaw’s telegram. His mouth got all tight, and his nostrils flared like an angry mule right before he starts kickin’. Then he let go with a string of curses that made even my ears burn, and I was born in the rail camps.”
The boy chuckled. “Yep. He was none too happy, but it was his own fault for backin’ Shaw into a corner like that. Tellin’ him he had to report by Friday or be dismissed. I coulda told him that tack wouldn’t work. But did he ask me? Nope. Anyone who’d seen Shaw’s face when he got that telegram from you sayin’ you was in trouble woulda known where to lay his bet. Shaw would never leave his angel until she was safe. Even if it meant givin’ up his job.”
The boy gave her a serious nod, his youthful enthusiasm fading into something more serious. “Mr. Shaw is the only one at the camps who treated me like a real person, not just some lackey to order about. That’s why I watched over his things and brought them to him. What’s important to him is important to me. And I reckon you, Miss Emma, are the most important thing of all.”
Malachi had left his job. For her. Emma couldn’t seem to think her way past that stark fact.
She had brought him into this mess, asked him to risk his life to help her protect her ladies, never giving thought to how long it might take or what kind of repercussions it might create for him. In truth, she hadn’t cared. All she’d cared about when she sent that telegram was protecting her colony. The community she’d built. The things she cared about. There had even been a part of her, deep down, that had wanted to send for him just so she could see him again. Emma bit her lip. What a selfish creature she was. So concerned with her own desires, her own plans, that she never once considered what Mal might be forced to sacrifice. She’d banked on his loyalty, and he’d paid the price.
“Miss? You all right?”
Emma gave herself a mental shake and glanced back at the boy. “Of course. I’m . . . fine.”
He didn’t look like he believed her.
“When . . . when did your employer send his telegram?” An awful thought started piecing itself together in the fog of her mind.
The boy’s forehead wrinkled. “Monday, I think. Why?”
“Monday,” she whispered, then turned to peer in the direction of the river. The last pieces clicked into place. The message Grace delivered before shooting practice. Mal’s sudden desire to search out the bandits the next day. It was his only chance to save his position with the railroad while still fulfilling his pledge to her. He’d wanted to keep that job. Wanted it so badly he’d hunted two armed gunmen. By himself. In their own territory.
Thank God he hadn’t found them. A shiver coursed through Emma at the thought of what could have happened. Yet what had happened hurt, too. She’d stolen the one thing that had given him pride and respect. And what had she given him in return? Nothing but trouble.
Emma was so deep in her thoughts, she failed to hear the jogging footsteps approaching until the horse nickered and stamped his front hooves. Her head whipped around as she belatedly lifted her rifle.
Malachi.
His gaze searched her face for a brief moment before he turned his attention to the boy. “Andrew! You’re a long way from Montana.”
The boy straightened like a soldier coming to attention. “I been watchin’ over your things, Mr. Shaw, just like I told you I would. Brought Ulysses to you.”
“So you did.” Mal was grinning like a kid who’d had a long-lost toy returned. The gelding bumped Mal’s shoulder with his nose. Mal chuckled softly and immediately started stroking the animal’s mismatched ears, placing his forehead against that of the horse. “I missed you, old man,” Mal murmured. “It’s good to have you back.”
“I brought your trunk and the rest of your stuff, too. Even your big copper tub. Had to leave that at the depot in Seymour, though. It was too big to tie to the saddle.”
A deep rumble of laughter echoed in Malachi’s chest, the sound warming Emma’s heart even as it twisted the guilt deeper into her soul.