Robin (2 page)

              Tiny pebbles of ice assaulted her, then larger and larger ones. She hunched her shoulders to ward off the attack, but they pummeled her painfully. No longer able to contain the storm of fear warring inside her, Robin screamed.

              Without warning, strong arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her along the wooden platform.

              “Don’t fight me, ma’am. I don’t mean you any harm. But you must get out of this storm before the hail beats you to pieces.”

              The arms tightened, lifted her over the side of the platform and planted her, without ceremony, on her feet.

              “We’ve got to hurry. If we can get to my wagon we might still have a chance to outrun this thing.”

              “I can’t run.” Robin yelled above the fury of the storm.

              Strong hands whipped her around. Her breath caught in her chest. Black hair hung to the stranger’s collar, but curled at the ends, even in the rain. With his face so close she could see the ring of blue around his otherwise dark eyes. A shadow of a beard covered his square jaw.

              “You’ve got to, ma’am. We’re going to get hit hard if we stand out here like this. “A frown settled between his eyes. He leaned toward her and put his arms around her shoulder, urging her forward.

              “Please.” She twisted away from him. “I can’t run.”

              A sudden stillness dropped like lead around them, and in an instant she lay against the rough stone foundation of the depot, the weight of the stranger heavy across her. A rivulet of muddy water slid past her cheek, and the scent of bay rum filled her otherwise numb senses.

              “I’m not going to hurt you, but when the wind stops like that it’s a sure sign of a fierce storm, most likely a twister. We need to stay as low to the ground as possible and pray the monster won’t suck us up in it, or blow something––”

              A roar like an approaching locomotive, accompanied by a cacophony of splintering wood and breaking glass sent fear coursing through her.

              “It’s a twister for sure,” he yelled. “But it’s headed for open country. It’s only going to hurl its wreckage our way. I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

              When the storm at last subsided, he rolled away from her and helped her to her feet. “Terrible way to meet, isn’t it?” He smiled. “Yo
u
ar
e
John Wenghold’s niece, aren’t you? Miss Robin Wenghold from Chicago?”

              Robin nodded. “I thought he would meet me.” Silver flecks danced before her eyes, and her back and shoulders hurt from the barrage of hailstones. She ran her tongue over her teeth to remove the dirt. What must she look like
?

             
“I know. I’m Ty Morgan, your Uncle John’s neighbor.”

             
“Is he ill? He knew I would arrive today.” She pressed her fingers against her forehead.

              “He didn’t forget you, ma’am. I guess he figured, since I planned to come in for supplies, it would save him a trip if I agreed to bring you back to his ranch.”

              Save him a trip? What kind of man issues an invitation to visit then sends a neighbor in his stead so he can save a trip
?
If only she could sit before her legs buckled.

              Gentle hands rested on her shoulders, and dark eyes peered into hers. “Miss Wenghold, do you need . . .”

              Though his lips moved, the swish of her pulse drowned out his words. She attempted to smile as a dark veil dropped over her eyes.

###

              Ty managed to catch the girl before she crumpled to the ground
.
Now what
?
Rain continued to pelt them. Thankful the station remained intact, he balanced her in his arms and climbed the stairs, one rickety step at a time. Satisfied the wooden porch had not been damaged, he proceeded to the door and kicked it open. Splinters of glass covered the floor beneath the broken window, but otherwise it would provide shelter.

              He laid her on the waiting bench and shook her gently. “Ma’am?” He couldn’t leave until she responded. Shouts came from the streets. There was likely a lot of damage and perhaps even injuries. “Miss Wenghold?” He dropped to one knee beside her.

              She blinked and turned her head toward him. “Is the storm over?”

              “The worst of it. I reckon you had a pretty bad scare, but you’re safe now.”

              The girl smiled and a dimple perched at the corner of her mouth. Long lashes curled against her cheeks and freckles sprinkled her nose. Cinnamon colored hair, tangled and muddy, lay across one shoulder.

              Ty swallowed. Few would describe her beautiful, yet he found it difficult to take his gaze away from her. “You rest. I’m going to see if anyone needs help. I won’t leave without you. Are you okay here? I need to take a look around.”

            
 
Good lands
.
He was chattering like a schoolgirl. Would she notice? He clenched his fists to resist thumbing a smudge of mud from her cheek.

              She nodded. “You go. I’m fine. I hope no one is injured.”

              “Me, too.” Ty stood and walked to the door. “Don’t go away.
”
Well, that was smart, Ty. And exactly where did you think she might go?

              She smiled again and sat up. “You will take me to Uncle John’s? Do you think the twister hit his ranch?”

              Ty shook his head. “I don’t think so. I watched the storm build as I came into town and figured it would go south and east of our ranches.”

              “You in the depot, Morgan?” A voice called from the street. “Doc says he could use ya if you got time.”

              She swept a strand of wet hair away from her face. Eyes as dark as the storm clouds that threatened a short time ago met his. Black pools so deep he could drown. “Mr. Morgan, please see who needs help. I’m fine.”

He bumped into the door on his way out.

TWO

              Robin wrapped her arms around her middle and paced—five . . . six . . . seven, turn. How many times had she counted the distance from the tiny ticket office to the wall? A gust of wind blew through the broken window and a shard of remaining glass tinkled to the floor. The door rattled and a shiver slithered across her shoulders. She peered into the deepening dusk and held her breath, then when no one entered she resumed pacing—one . . . two . . . three . . .

            
 
Where is he? Mr. Morgan said he would return
.
Voices, which at first had called to one another after the storm, stilled. She longed for the sound of other human beings, even if she didn’t know them. Instead, unfamiliar noises assailed her imagination.

              Home. She thought of her sisters in Chicago, their evening routine so predictable it swelled the lump in her throat with the thought. Wren would flit in the front door and straighten the picture of Mama’s great-uncle Alfred that hung above the table in the entryway. On her way through the parlor she’d rearrange the candelabra on the mantel, then make three turns around the large oval dining table to ensure the tablecloth hung evenly. And with each flit she’d flutter her hands and trill her day’s events.

              And Lark—dear Lark would scold
.
Nothing changes, little Jenny Wren. The picture will wiggle crooked when you close the door in the morning. You never light the candles, and Mama would take to her bed if she knew you kept her best cutwork linen cloth on the table when we have no guests to entertain.

              Robin smiled. If only they could have made the trip with her. But Wren still made the daily excursion to the Wesleys’—as nanny to their children—and Lark had her piano students at Winford Lucas Ladies Academy of Voice and Piano. No. It was best this way. Between the three of them, Papa’s debts would be paid in no time, and the sisters would join her to make their home in Kansas. Though it remained a mystery why, after all these years, John Wenghold made such an offer to nieces he didn’t know.

              A snuffle outside the window sent Robin cowering against the wall. She lowered herself to a sitting position and drew her knees to her chest. Darkness shrouded her from her foe. Crouched in the corner, she clasped her arms around her knees and locked her gaze on the door. Her heart drummed in her chest.

            
 
Sing, Robin. Mama said fear and song don’t abide together.

              A bump against the outside wall sent another shard of glass ringing to the floor.

              “O for a faith that will not shrink, tho’ pressed by every foe.” She searched her memory for the words then raised her voice. “. . . Tho’ pressed by every foe.” A low moan rumbled outside the window. She took a deep breath. “That will not tremble on the brink . . .” With each new phrase the awful noise grew louder. “That will not tremble on the brink of any earthly wo-o-oe—” A furry head with long flapping ears poked through the open window and bellowed, took a long suck of air then brayed again. Robin screamed.

              She released one more piercing cry before the door slammed open. A lantern in Mr. Morgan’s hand gave enough light for Robin to make out the older lady with him. Oh, how good to be in the company of another female. The woman was tall and thin as a willow branch. One long braid wound around her head like a crown, and her face crinkled in smile lines when she strode past Robin to the window.

              “You cantankerous old sister.” The woman grabbed the intruder by the ear and the terrible noise stopped. The lady turned to Robin. “Crazy mule. The old dear thinks she’s human.”

              Robin gazed from Ty to the woman. Mr. Morgan’s eyes watered with restrained laughter. The older lady covered her mouth with the hem of her apron.

              Her legs shook, but Robin managed to push herself to her feet. She was neither impressed nor amused. Hands on hips, she opened her mouth to inform them of such when soft arms enfolded her

              “I’m Emma Ledbetter, dear. And this obnoxious critter is my mule, Dolly.” Emma wiped tears from her eyes. “You must’ve been so frightened. Were you, by chance, trying to chase your fears away with a song? Dolly here thinks she can sing. You ought to hear her on Sunday mornings when it’s warm enough to have the church windows open.”

            
 
That was singing
?
The scraggly ears of Emma’s mule, flashed back and forth like signal flags. Then Dolly curled her lip, gave a toothy grin, and backed away from the window.

              “Sorry we took so long, Miss Wenghold.” Ty stepped toward her. “It took a while to get through town and make sure everyone was okay. Then when Emma couldn’t find Dolly I couldn’t leave without helping her. As soon as we heard that silly animal singing we knew we’d better get here and rescue you. Again.”

              “Were people injured?” She managed to squeak.

              “Only a few cuts and scratches.” Emma led Robin back to the bench. “Doc Mercer was able to patch ‘em up fine. And don’t you fret none about your Uncle John, dearie.”

              “How did you know I’m worried?” Robin welcomed Emma’s arm around her shoulders and scooted closer.

              Emma laughed. “My late husband, George, always said I was the knowingest woman he ever did see—said I knew everybody’s business, and a lot of business I shouldn’t. I think it comes from listening to my customers. After a bit you learn to look at their faces when they’re talking, and you begin to understand that sometimes what’s coming from their mouth and what’s showing on their face is two different conversations.” She leaned toward Robin. “You have a great big frown between those pretty eyes. A furrow that deep says worry to me.”

              Ty knelt by the bench. “I know this day has been long and hard for you, Miss Wenghold. If you can hang on a few hours more, I think it will be best for us to wait until morning to head for John’s ranch.”

              “Won’t he be anxious if I don’t come tonight?”

              “John seldom gets anxious about anything. He’ll figure I had sense enough not to head out onto the prairie with the storm still brewing.” Ty smiled.

              “But what will I do tonight? I only have my valise. The train left, and it took my trunk with it. They didn’t unload it. I don’t want to stay here alone.” Heat bathed her face. She didn’t want Ty Morgan to think she issued an invitation for him to linger.

              “Oh, I have plenty of room at my place, Miss Wenghold.” Emma patted Robin’s hand. “And as far as your trunk—you have to do the unloading yourself, dear. But don’t worry. My store is full of ready-made clothing, and you can have your choice. That is, if you don’t mind.”

              “No, I don’t mind at all. But I don’t—”

              “You needn’t fret about paying me. We’ll take care of all that later. In fact, after I have a talk with John Wenghold, I would imagine you won’t owe me a penny.”

              “He must be a very generous man.”

              Ty and Emma chuckled in unison.

              Emma shook her head. “Generous is not a word I would use to describe the man, but he is practical. You leave him to me.”

              “You know him well?”

              “John Wenghold is as old as dirt, and I’ve known him since he was a speck of dust.” Emma groaned as she got to her feet and offered Robin a hand. “Let’s get home and settled in for the evening, then I’ll try to answer your questions. Where will you stay, Ty?”

              “I told Doc Mercer I’d bunk with him tonight in case someone wanders in. I think the twister missed most of the ranches, but never can tell who might have strayed into its path once it passed here.”

              He held the lantern as the women descended the rickety steps. “It’s muddy, so might be slippery. Watch your step.”

              Robin grasped Emma’s hand and tried to match her stride. She feared her halting gait would soon be noticed as her hand jerked against the older woman’s with each step.

              “You okay, dearie?” Emma stopped. “Why, girl—you’re limping. Ty, did you hurt this little gal trying to save her?”

              Even the dim light didn’t hide the frown on Ty’s face. He handed the lantern to Emma. “Here, you take this, and I’ll help Miss Wenghold over the rough part. You go ahead. We’ll follow.” He tucked Robin’s hand in the crook of his elbow and leaned toward her ear. “We’ll go slow. I promise.”

              Robin swiped at unwelcome tears. “I’m sorry, I—”

              “You told me you couldn’t run. Is this why, o
r
di
d
I hurt you?”

              She sighed. “No. You didn’t hurt me. I was born this way.”

              “You don’t have to explain, you know. Not to me. Not to anyone. Emma will no doubt question you, but only out of concern. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. You can trust her, Miss Wenghold, and she’ll want to be your friend.”

              “Will Uncle John send me away when he finds out I’m crippled?”

              “He doesn’t know?”

              She shook her head “We’ve never met.”

              Ty smiled. “That would explain why he couldn’t describe you.”

              “After Papa died we received a letter from Uncle John saying he could use help around the house and would gladly pay for it. We think perhaps Papa wrote to him when the doctor told him he was near death.”

              “We? You have other siblings?”

              “Come on, you two.” Emma stood with one hand on her hip, the other one swinging the lantern. “We can talk over a cup of coffee. Ty Morgan, get that dear lady out of the muddy street.”

              Ty put his arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to say more than you’re ready to tell, you know. Lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

            
 
He won’t let me fall
?
Robin’s heart pounded. Maybe he wouldn’t let her fall to the ground, but on the inside she’d already toppled. She’d tuck this conversation away for now. A man like Ty Morgan would never be attracted to her.