Mother For His Children, A (24 page)

Orphan.

The word stilled everything around them, dampened the noise and commotion.

And suddenly he saw the drab gray dress and plain, scuffed boots peeking out from beneath.

He'd thought she was of age—wouldn't have let himself be attracted to her if she was too young—but apparently he was wrong.

She was an orphan on a westbound train. Just like he had been sixteen years ago.

This time when their eyes met, he didn't fight the connection, although nothing would ever come of it. It swelled between them into something almost tangible.

“I'm not leaving my sister behind. We have to get her out of there,” she said, voice low and intense.

“I will. I promise.” And he never broke his promises.

“Miss Morris, I insist—”

“I'm of age!” the young woman called down.

The matron's outraged gasp told him something was very wrong.

And in a matter of moments, he—and everyone else in the vicinity—knew what it was.

The orphan girl was a liar.

The pretty young woman had pulled the wool over the orphanage chaperone's eyes and gotten a free ride out west. She was apparently over eighteen, which made him feel a little less like a lecher for his unforeseen attraction to her.

But her age didn't matter. She wasn't trustworthy. It figured.

He knew better than anyone that women couldn't be trusted. His past had taught him that. Save the rare exception, like his adoptive ma, Penny, not a one of them was safe.

Knowing didn't help the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he threw himself back into rearranging luggage and unearthing passengers in the upended train car. He was somehow disappointed in the petite young woman.

“You need a hand in there?”

Relief mixed with frustration as his brother Matty's head popped in the opening above Edgar.

“I've got some men from town down here ready to get the rest of the folks off this train,” his brother reported.

“I need the doc,” he returned, looking down on a child with an obviously broken arm.

He bent to comfort the small boy, at the same time looking around for a mother or father to match with the tyke. Voices called out from farther down in the car, but it would take some doing to get to those folks, blocked off as they were.

Matty turned and shouted down, his words distorted because of the distance, but clearly relaying Edgar's need. Hopefully Doc Powell, Maxwell's father-in-law, had arrived with the other men.

Matty lowered his bottom half through the opening and dropped inside, his boots clanging against the inside wall of the passenger car. He quickly joined Edgar at the boy's side, shouldering aside a large valise without being asked. That was one thing to like about his brother—he did what was asked without complaining.

“Doc's on his way.”

“The cattle?” Ed grunted, dislodging another trunk until they could wiggle the boy free of his former seat. “And where's Ricky?” Matty, Ricky and Seb had all been pushing the cattle to town.

“Don't know about Rick, but Seb and I heard the train crash and tucked the cattle into ol' Mr. Fredrick's south pasture. We might have to round up a few strays tonight, but they should mostly stay put. Doubt the train is going to run this afternoon anyway.”

Edgar should've known his brothers wouldn't just turn the cattle loose—they all owed as much to their pa as he did. But Matty's conclusion about the train troubled him. They only had a few days to get the cattle to his pa's buyer. If the train was out, what were they going to do?

He worked to keep a single-minded focus on that thought, on his task. But he couldn't quite ignore the tightening of his gut when thoughts of the pretty young woman crept back in.

* * *

Emma was one of the last ones off the train.

But when Emma's feet hit the ground and she ran toward Fran, blinding relief rushed through her.

They embraced, Fran squeezing her sister as tightly as she could. “Are you hurt?”

Emma shook her head. She was trembling, whether from fright or from the adrenaline of the wreck and its aftermath, Fran didn't know.

She watched as the cowboy and two others with him who were dressed similarly—although notably better groomed—jumped off the overturned train. They were the last three off.

The rest of the passengers had disembarked, and now so had the three cowboys who'd come to their aid. She wished she could thank them.

But Fran clutched Emma's hand in hers, not daring to move from beneath the watchful eyes of the orphanage's assigned chaperone and the sheriff.

Her sister was scratched and bruised, same as Fran was, but had no major injuries. It was much to be thankful for.

But being discovered in her deception was a disaster. One she hadn't prepared for.

“I want her arrested.” The matron's voice rang out, hushing the rumble of other voices as passengers loaded up in wagons all around.

Fran winced.

She attempted a brave smile at her sister and sent a fervent prayer winging upward. The Lord hadn't helped her any in Memphis and she questioned whether He would now, but she vowed to make herself like the annoying widow in that parable and keep on petitioning until she got the help she needed.

She didn't know if what she'd done was enough to be jailed and punished for—it wasn't as if she'd
stolen
from the orphanage. But as Mr. Underhill had threatened her before she and Emma had snuck out of Memphis, an orphan like her didn't have a lot of credibility. His threats and his crazed obsession with her sister had made it necessary to leave, and without any money, the orphan train had given them their only option.

The sheriff's sudden shrill whistle broke into her wildly racing thoughts and brought the cowboys into their periphery. The two younger men came first, while the blond man who'd taken her off the train seemed almost reluctant, his steps dragging.

“Doc's going to be tied up with those last two gals, and I've got to help get the rest of these folks to town.” The sheriff motioned around.

Several wagons had already departed, following the railroad tracks. Two empty wagons remained, one waiting for the injured girls lying next to the train car.

“Can y'all help me keep track of these two? Deliver them to my office?” The sheriff jerked his thumb toward Fran and Emma.

Fran saw the tension of the moment in the set of the bigger cowboy's jaw. Even unkempt as he was, the rugged lines of his face showed a stark handsomeness.

Not that she needed to be noticing. She should be worrying about the predicament she'd found herself in. At least she and Emma had made it a far piece from Memphis before she'd been found out.

But was it far enough? It had only been a day since she'd overheard the man on the Lincoln platform. He'd been looking for her and Emma by name, but they'd managed to avoid him and get onto the westbound train without being seen. No doubt he was one of Mr. Underhill's henchmen, hired to find them.

“These two gals in trouble?” the youngest of the cowboys asked curiously.

“It's that one,” the matron said, pointing a shaking finger in Fran's direction. “She pretended to be an underage orphan. She used the resources set aside for those in need and defrauded us.”

Yes. She guessed she had done all that. But it wasn't as if she had had any other choice.

The sheriff looked a bit skeptical. “Circuit judge is in town today. Let's see what he says afore we do anything else. You boys take them on for me, all right?”

Fran patted the special inside pocket she'd sewn into the drab frock the orphanage had given her. The crinkle of paper—her baptismal certificate that was her proof of identity—reassured her. She would face what she had to.

Emma's safety was paramount. Fran squeezed her sister, who looked more than a little worried, and followed the men on foot.

And they still had a chance. If she could locate this Jonas White she'd heard about, perhaps he would help.

“Howdy, miss.”

The two younger men came along either side of Fran and Emma, smiling widely as if they hadn't just heard the accusation against her.

The closest one was a few years younger than the mountain man, closer to her own age. With smiling brown eyes and brown curls peeking from beneath his hat, he seemed the complete opposite of the gruff cowboy.

The one she was still intensely aware of as he strode several paces ahead, seeming to ignore them.

“Name's Seb. That's Edgar.” He nodded toward the blond cowboy.

Edgar. An ordinary name for such an intense, enigmatic man.

“And I'm Matty.” The second younger cowboy tipped his Stetson from Emma's opposite side. He was blond as well, but she could only see a hint of his curls beneath his hat. His brown eyes sparkled.

And still she felt a pull, some unusual sort of draw from deep in her midsection, toward the first man.

“I'm Fran Morris. My sister, Emma.”

Both cowboys doffed their hats. “Nice to meet ya, ladies.”

She couldn't help but notice that the unkempt cowboy continued to ignore them.

“You'll have to forgive our brother.” Matty followed her gaze and nodded to the taller man ahead. “He don't get off the ranch much and forgets how to talk to women.”

They were brothers?

Beside her, Seb guffawed. She caught a glimpse of Edgar's profile. Above his beard, his skin had reddened. Was it from the sun? Or could he be embarrassed by his brother's words?

She glanced away, unsure.

There were mountains in the far distance, but only prairie surrounded them. It was almost frightening in its barrenness. Especially if someone was following them—she imagined one could see a far distance on these plains, and she felt bare and conspicuous out in the open.

“How far is it to Bear Creek?” she asked.

“'Bout a quarter mile.” Seb's smile was as easy and natural as the rest of him.

Fran sent a reassuring smile to Emma, but her sister remained pale, withdrawn from the conversation. Fearful.

“Do you know how the train derailed? Is that a normal occurrence?” Fran asked, trying to distract herself from worries over her sister.

Emma had remained near silent since they'd left the Girls' Academy in the dead of night. She'd barely spoken to
Fran.
How could she prove to Emma that she could keep them safe when the plan she'd hastily concocted was unraveling around them?

Both near cowboys shrugged, but it was Matty who spoke. “Never seen it happen before. Got a glimpse of the broken tracks, but I don't know for sure what caused it. Could've been some kind of sinkhole.”

Ed looked over his shoulder at them. Or perhaps just at his brothers. His gaze seemed to skip right over Fran as if she didn't exist.

She couldn't understand it. They'd seemed to share a moment on top of the displaced train. Then the matron had started harping on Fran and she'd known her slight untruth had been discovered, but why would the man turn cold just because of that?

It shouldn't sting so badly, but it did. Then again, what experience did she have with men? Very little. And that had hardly been positive.

She stared at the back of his head, willing him to turn back around, to acknowledge her.

Which was silly and fanciful.

“Have you lived in Bear Creek long?” she asked Seb, purposefully turning toward him so as to ignore his older brother.

“Our pa's ranch is out of town a bit, toward the west. Been here since before I can remember, so nearly my whole life. Where you two gals headed?”

“Here, I guess,” she murmured. She highly doubted the matron would agree to let them travel farther west with the other orphans. The best Fran could hope for was that this circuit judge and the sheriff would be sympathetic to her situation and that she could find work in this area.

If she couldn't, she didn't know what she and Emma would do. They couldn't go back to Memphis. That wasn't an option.

She looked around at the vast empty sky and grassy land. What job opportunities could there be for her here? She'd hoped to secure a position as a teacher or perhaps as a clerk.

But what would she and Emma do if Fran
couldn't
get work?

Copyright © 2014 by Lacy Williams

IMPRINT: Digital Exclusives

ISBN: 9781488717581

TITLE: A MOTHER FOR HIS CHILDREN

First Australian Publication 2014

Copyright © 2014 Jan Drexler

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Level 4, 132 Arthur Street, North Sydney, N.S.W., Australia 2060.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its corporate affiliates and used by others under licence. Trademarks marked with an ® are registered in Australia and in other countries. Contact [email protected] for details.

www.millsandboon.com.au