The Texan's Inherited Family and a Home for His Family by Noelle Marchand

Author:Noelle Marchand
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-10-26T17:18:14+00:00

* * *

“Oh, not again!”

Sarah caught hold of the branch of a juniper shrub as her boot slipped on the muddy creek bank. The night spent in the snug cabin Uncle James had built when he came to Deadwood last summer had been a welcome relief after days in the stagecoach, but she was quickly getting chilled and miserable again on this afternoon’s mission of mercy.

“Are you all right?” Aunt Margaret puffed as she tried to keep up with Uncle James’s pace.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Sarah pulled at the juniper until she was on the trail next to her aunt again and brushed a lank strand of wet hair out of her face. Uncle James reached out a hand to steady her, shuddering as a gust of wind struck them.

“This storm is getting worse, and it’s starting to snow. We need to be getting home.” Uncle James took Aunt Margaret’s arm.

“I’m glad we went, though. Mr. Harders would have been frozen solid by morning in that cold cabin with no fire.” Sarah buried her chin in her scarf.

“The poor man.” Margaret clicked her tongue under her breath. “If he was this sickly, he should never have come to Deadwood.”

James tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “His doctor told him to come west for his health.”

“And this place is healthy?”

“Wait until the weather clears, my dear. I know you’ll love it as much as I do.”

Sarah took her aunt’s other arm. “Let’s hurry and get home where it’s warm.”

“Wait.” Margaret clutched at James. “What is that? An Indian?”

Sarah peered through the brush along the creek. “She doesn’t look like a Sioux, unless they wear calico skirts.” Sarah started toward the girl, who was now bending to dip a pail in the creek. A few steps took her around the bushes and face-to-face with the barrel of a shotgun.

“You stop right there.” The gun barrel wavered as the eight-year-old boy holding it stepped into view. The same boy she had seen yesterday afternoon, peering out of the covered wagon. Charley, wasn’t it? She looked past him to the empty trail. Her stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Nate Colby again.

“Young man, put that gun down right now.” Margaret’s voice was as commanding as if she was reprimanding one of the Sunday school boys.

“Uncle Nate said to keep a gun on any strangers coming around, and that’s what I mean to do.” Charley squinted down the barrel and raised it a bit higher to aim at Margaret’s head.

This was getting nowhere, and Sarah was wet and cold.

“Come, now, surely you can see we’re no threat.” She smiled, but Charley only swung the gun barrel around to her. The gun wavered as he stared at her. “I know you, but I don’t know them.” He turned the shotgun back toward Uncle James.

“Charley, what are you doing?” The girl with the water pail came up the path behind him, and the boy tightened his grip on the gun.

“Keeping a gun on them, just like Uncle Nate said.

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