The Wives of Bowie Stone by Maggie Osborne

Author:Maggie Osborne [Osborne, Maggie]
Format: epub
Tags: General, Romance, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780446365338
Publisher: Warner Books
Published: 1994-12-01T08:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 12

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Owl's Butte, Wyoming

S usan's days were anxious and nerve-racking, but the evening hours were often terrifying. The back of her neck prickled at every coyote's howl; she heard every small unexplained sound within miles of the cabin. Once the sun sank behind the mountain peaks, she became acutely aware of how isolated and alone she was. The town of Owl's Butte, a mile and a half from the cabin, might as well have been in another country.

"Did you hear something?" Tilting her head, she looked up from the alphabet blocks she was helping Nate arrange on the floor. There—she heard it again, a scraping noise just outside her door. Her heart leaped behind her corset stays.

The worst was the necessity that she appear brave for Nate's sake. She, who was the most cowardly person she knew. Standing, Susan grabbed the broom, which was a poor defense but all she had; then she crossed the one-room cabin in four strides, drew a deep breath and flung open the door, praying she wouldn't find a bear on her doorstep or a hungry coyote or a bandit bent on raping and murdering his way across the countryside.

She stumbled over a basket of food that had been placed in front of her door.

Relief sagged through her body, and she experienced a giddy urge to laugh at her fears. Instead, she peered through the evening shadows at a figure striding rapidly toward a horse tied to the post in front of the schoolhouse next door.

"Mr. Harte!"

Pushing the broom inside the cabin, Susan hastily smoothed her apron and tucked a strand of hair into the coil on her neck. At this moment she wished she still possessed the time and patience to curl her hair and do something more than wrap it in an uninteresting bun.

Gresham Harte stopped near the hitching post, and she heard him swear before he turned reluctant steps back in her direction.

"Good evening, Mrs. Stone." He smiled at Nate, who was peeking around her skirts. "Hello there, young fella."

"I suspected it was you who was leaving the food. Thank you," Susan said, bending to lift the food basket. "This isn't necessary, but your generosity is appreciated." More than he knew—or maybe he did. After purchasing school supplies, her funds had sunk to a perilous level, and she wouldn't receive her first salary payment for another eight days.

"I thought you could use a little help getting started," he said, looking uncomfortable. He stepped into the light falling across the porch and pulled his hat from his head, leaving his dark hair tousled.

They looked at each other, then Susan remembered the iron-shaped scorch mark on her sleeve and tucked that arm behind her.

"You didn't have to leave the food on the doorstep," she said. "You could have knocked and said hello."

He fussed with the watch fob that dangled across his waistcoat, a habit Susan had noticed he indulged when he felt uncomfortable. "I didn't want to disturb you."

The basket was heavy.

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