Always, Wyeth Read online

“Now Sassafras here, was a real challenge. She came in to the station with a bunch of other Morgan ponies for the Express to look over. At first, Ransom wanted to send her back. She was a bit of a troublemaker.”

  Tillie felt a little furrow pinch between her brows. “Ransom?”

  Wyeth rolled his eyes. “He was a rider for the express until he up and married a woman at one of our waystations. You’ll likely see the pair of them in town at some point.”

  “Are they good friends of yours?” She thought she heard a warm tone in his voice.

  “Ransom was a bit stiff when I first met him. He was all work and no play, but with Delia,” Wyeth laughed and his horse chuckled along with him, “he’s happier and smiles every so often now.”

  With his free hand, Wyeth gestured for her to move closer, and she did, moving close enough to almost touch the horse if she stretched her arm all the way out. This was close enough for now.

  “You’d like Delia. Everyone does. She worries about everyone like a mother hen. If you get Delia and Missus Hawkins in the same room, you’ll have a clean face, clean hands, and eat ‘til you’re likely to burst.”

  The horse was tired of waiting, pressing her long neck into Wyeth’s hand until he went back to scratching. “As I was saying, grumpy horse, Sassafras here had her own mind, and while she had a Morgan mama, there seems to be something a little wild in her too. That was a warning sign for Ransom and Mr. Hawkins, they wanted to pick the others and send her back home.”

  “But you didn’t let them.” Tillie shocked herself by speaking out of turn. It was just too easy to talk to him.

  “Nope,” he tugged down on the horse’s neck and pressed a kiss to her sorrel cheek, “she would have been all alone, and if there’s one thing the Bowles family knows, it’s how to bring folks into the fold. So, Sassafras and I made a deal. I try to make her a well-behaved pony and she lets me believe I’m making headway.”

  As if she was in the joke, the horse tossed her head and Wyeth stepped away from the stall. He held out his hand to Tillie. “Want to make friends?”

  Tillie hoped her surprise didn’t show on her face. Friends were a valuable commodity in the world, and so far she’d been friend poor, very poor indeed. Nodding, Tillie stepped up to set her hand in his. “I’m a little nervous.”

  Wyeth drew her closer, a smiling twinkle in his eye. “Well then it’s even. So is she.”

  Before she could question him, Tillie found herself square in front of the stall, her hand still in Wyeth’s. It was difficult to know whether the tremors she felt inside were from worry or from the warmth of his hand against hers, and then the worry flew from her head.

  The horse leaned into the palm of her hand, pressing her warm nose against Tillie’s skin. With a big exhale, the horse’s breath blew across her forearm, and before she could think about moving her hand, the horse turned her head ever so slightly, and Tillie felt the ticklish brush of whiskers against her skin.

  She tried to look at Wyeth. She wanted to say thank you, but she just couldn’t take her eyes off of the horse leaning into her touch.

  Wyeth took pity on her and leaned closer, almost whispering in her ear. “Happy?”

  Tillie nodded, still mute from sheer amazement.

  And then Sassafras decided the sweet moment was over. Peeling her lips back from her massive teeth, she opened her mouth and swept her tongue over Tillie’s palm.

  “Oh!” Tillie pulled back, stumbling from the shock. The heel of her boot caught in her hem and she wheeled back.

  “Careful now,” Wyeth was right there, placing a hand on her back and one at her waist, first keeping her from falling to the ground, and then slowly tipping her back onto her feet. “I don’t want your companion to think I didn’t take good care of you.”

  Tillie blinked at him, a warm feeling radiating from her heart. She shook her head. “I wouldn’t tell her,” she declared, “I’ve been trying to get up the courage to touch a horse during the whole journey from Boston, but I couldn’t quite seem to get close enough to try.”

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m too disappointed that you had to wait.”

  Wyeth’s eyes seemed to roam over her face, and she tried to follow their path. She couldn’t quite understand his words.

  “I like that you let me be the one to help you.” He brought his gaze to rest on hers, “I had the opportunity to see that you’re even more beautiful up close than you were across the room.”

  Tillie was sure she’d fallen into a dream, but Anna’s words came back to her, that Wyeth was the sweetest talker of all the men. That reined in her breathless appreciation of his comments. Swallowing, she shifted in his arms to make sure that she had her feet firmly underneath her. “Anna told us that you knew how to talk to a lady. “She swallowed again and found that her throat was still bone dry. “It’s really not fair, you know.”

  “Fair?”

  Wyeth loosened up his hold on her and she stepped away. It was easier to breathe without his arms around her. It was easier to think when she had some distance between them.

  “Sure,” she answered back, “you’ve had practice saying all these sweet things, but I haven’t had any practice hearing them. I don’t know what to answer back.”

  She moved back to Sassafras’ stall and this time the horse just stood still and let Tillie run her hands over her mottled coat. “I guess it’ll be easier to understand the more it happens.” Tillie let a little disappointment bleed into her tone. “Maybe it’s the same with everything. The more you do it, the easier it gets.”

  Wyeth let out a long whistle under his breath. “I can guarantee you that doesn’t work for riders from the Express. No matter how many times we ride the same trail, there’s hardly anything that feels the same.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  There was a flicker of some kind of emotion in his eyes that he tried to cover a moment later. “Not that I’d tell my mama,” he grinned, “but I don’t think she saw the advertisement they hammered up around my hometown. ‘Orphans Preferred’ scared a bunch of folks away from applying.” He leaned an elbow on the top of the stall door. “It was a warning but a fair one. Better to tell us up front that it wasn’t going to be easy. At least you walk in with your eyes wide open,” he explained, “but it was the money that pushed me through the door. My Papa passed on a few years back, and Mama did everything she could to provide for us, but four children made it nearly impossible.

  “Having my mama working just wasn’t right, not with the two little ones at home needing her more than they needed me there. I’d already taken up little jobs here and there, but this job was the first one that would provide enough money that Mama could stay at home with the littles.”

  To say that Tillie was stunned would be an understatement.

  Wyeth had a family that he was supporting. Suddenly, she blushed, feeling more than a little embarrassed for her feelings earlier. For thinking that he was just a man who had a way with words.

  Could she have been that wrong?

  “Well, I’m sure she’s very thankful for your help, but I dare say she would like you in a safer occupation.”

  Wyeth was silent for a moment, and then he let loose a laugh that startled Tillie and the horses all the way up and down the inside of the barn. “Well goodness, Miss Weston! When you make an understatement, you make an understatement!”

  She joined in his laughter.

  “My mama would give her eye-teeth if I was to ‘wise up’ and plop myself behind a desk somewhere, but it’s not to be, at least not now. I fear that I’m like Sassafras here,” he tapped a hand on the neck of the horse, “there’s something a bit wild inside of me. When I get that all rode out, then maybe I’ll be ready to be a quiet man and work a quiet job.”

  “I could speak to my father,” she suggested. “He is looking for men to work in the bank. It would be regular hours and a safe-”

  “Banks get robbed, Miss Weston. At least, on the back of a horse, I have a hope o
f outrunning danger. Still,” he shook his head, “I have to admire a woman like you with such a sweet heart and a quick mind.”

  Again, she paused, unsure of what to say in return.

  It’s true that Mademoiselle had taught her many things, but speaking to a man who could easily capture her heart was not one of them. Not during any lesson did she ever explain what to do when conversing with a man besides not to. She was taught to flutter a fan before her face just so, but only with a man whose fortune exceeds that of her father.

  The thought shuttered some of the light of her earlier humor. She doubted that her father would ever find someone like Wyeth Bowles a worthy young man for her.

  It wouldn’t matter to her.

  “Miss Weston?”

  She looked up, a smile setting on her features.

  “Come and meet Cayuse.” He moved down the row to a proud looking bay. “He’ll be kind, I promise.”

  And Tillie had no other option but to follow him.

  Chapter 4

  Pierson walked up to the banker with as hale and hearty of a greeting as he could manage. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”

  The other man waved him off, his gaze focused down the road. “Sure, sure, but not at the moment.”

  “Well,” he struggled to keep his expression pleasant, “I’m a very busy man, Mr. Weston.”

  That got a reaction. Turning his head for a moment, he met Pierson’s gaze with a pointed look. “You may consider yourself busy, sir. Yet, I have no idea what you consider ‘busy’. The only times I’ve seen you have been outside the stage depot.

  “A few times you were smoking, and the last time I caught sight of you, I believe you were sleeping.”

  The man’s words pricked Pierson’s temper, but he held it in check. Nodding once, and then again, he drew in a breath and then held out his hand. “Perhaps,” he swallowed, “we might begin our conversation a second time. “Good Morning, Mr. Weston.”

  The banker gave his hand a good long look before he shook it. “’Morning, Mister…”

  “Pierson,” he enunciated the name clearly. “Reuben Pierson.”

  That, at least, caught his interest. “Any connection to the Pierson Stage Line?”

  Again, he felt a hard knock on his temper. “That’s my family.”

  Mr. Weston gave him a questioning look and then disbelief. “I find that hard to believe, Mister Pierson. If you were so lucky as to be a member of the Pierson family, why would you be relegated to relative,” he had a little laugh at his own pun, “obscurity here in Three Rivers?”

  Pierson opened his mouth to scratch back at the other man and then thought better of it. After all, it was part of the reason he was out here in Wyoming instead of sitting pretty at the Sacramento office. Then again, if he wanted back into the family’s good graces, he would have to step up his meddling and work harder to bring this station to its knees. His father’s voice pushed into his mind, that craggy voice barking out the words, ‘Fortune favors the bold.’

  Leveling a look at the banker, he managed something akin to a pleasant smile. “And I find it hard to believe that if you’re a member of the Weston family you would be here in this obscure little town.”

  Ah, that got a reaction from the other man. A quick tightening of the skin around his mouth, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I am here to be a bit of a pioneer, Mr. Pierson. I plan to make my family a small fortune. With the mines and the ranches in this area, there will be a need for a bank of my family’s reputation in this town.”

  “And I have my own worth to prove, Mr. Weston.” He met the man’s narrowed gaze straight on. “I believe it is in our best interests to support each other’s endeavors.”

  Mr. Weston gave him a long and hard look. “I am not a man eager to jump into anything without due consideration.”

  Pierson fought back the smile that threatened to weaken his position. “Then perhaps,” he offered, “we could meet tonight and consider our options.”

  “Tomorrow,” he never liked being told when to do something, “tomorrow will work for me.” A smile stretched at the corners of Mr. Weston’s mouth. “I’ll send word of when and where. It will have to be after I’ve had supper with my daughter.”

  Success. “Absolutely, sir. Family comes first.”

  Tillie felt as though she was in prison. Peering out from the window of her room in the still-nearly-finished boarding house, waiting to move into their nearly-finished home by the river, she had been ordered to sit and wait. The conversation from the morning still rang in her ears.

  “If a reply comes in from the ranch, you have to be ready to leave.”

  She smiled at her father, hoping to ease his worry. “If I were to go somewhere, I could be back in less than an hour.” His expression didn’t change. “I can see waiting until the noon hour, but after that, any reply won’t be for a visit that day, Father. The time it takes to get a buggy out to the ranch would place the visit well after supper. They’d have to expect us to stay the night and-”

  The look on her father’s face gave her pause. She’d somehow struck on an idea that had him thinking that might be a better situation than a simple tea or morning visit.

  Tillie resisted the urge to pinch herself in punishment. He’d never agree to her leaving. Not now. Likely, not ever. She wondered which book she would like to read for the tenth time.

  “I can’t see what would keep the Captain from answering my letter,” her father growled at the newspaper he hadn’t managed to read since he’d opened it at the table. “From what I’ve heard, the Captain is a responsible man. A man well-respected in town.” He sighed and then sat up, his booted foot shifting on the floor. “And rich as well.”

  “Rich doesn’t mean much, Father. One can have money and lack morals or kindness.”

  “Morals and kindness are for priests, Ottille. The Captain isn’t old money. The man earned it with the sweat of his brow. He’s created quite an enterprise here in Three Rivers.” He flicked his newspaper and folded it together before setting it aside and reaching for his coffee. “You’d do well to remember that when we visit the ranch.”

  She’d felt her stomach turn at the idea. “If you’re going for business, it would be best that I remain here so you won’t be disturbed in your conversation.”

  “Nonsense, Ottille. You’re coming when I go to see the Captain. If you’re worried about morals and kindness, you’ll do well to remember that the Captain takes care of his widowed mother and his spinster sister. Is that enough kindness for you?”

  What she remembered was that the two women were his mother and his sister, the other adjectives that he’d used to describe them mattered not to her. She would enjoy making their acquaintance, but she feared that her father wanted her along to push her under the Captain’s nose. The man sounded like a fine gentleman; even Mrs. Hawkins had declared how upstanding and helpful he was when there was law needed in town.

  And yes, if she were to make a match in Three Rivers, he would be worth meeting, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Not at the moment.

  “Well, keep an eye out, Ottille. If a message comes for me, bring it to the bank. We’re nearly ready to open. The freight wagon is coming today with the first of our safes. It will be quite the project, and I don’t trust anyone besides myself to oversee the installation.”

  And so, she’d sat in the living room of the boarding house, doing her best to ignore the constant pounding of hammers from the second floor. The book that she had picked to read yet again lay open and print down on her lap as her eyes stared out the window willing someone… anyone to come into view.

  Nothing.

  And then a flash of a smile appeared from around the edge of the doorframe.

  Tillie sat up and leaned to the side, wondering if she was so bored that she was seeing things. She was one breath away from lifting her book again when she saw the hem of a dark blue skirt flit past the door, followed by laughter.

  Oh Goodness.


  Tillie looked at the settee under the window. Mademoiselle had been embroidering something, but sometime in the last few minutes, she’d fallen asleep. If she moved quietly, she might have the chance to speak to Anna without Mademoiselle listening in.

  Setting her book aside, Tillie rose from the sofa and crossed to the door. With a gentle push, it swung open and nearly knocked Anna to the ground. The two young women laughed. “Anna! What are you doing?”

  Anna held out the calico-covered plate in her hands. “Mama made cookies.” She lowered her voice as if imparting a secret. “The boys say they see you sitting around inside all day, and it’s a crime.”

  Tillie blinked at her. “A what?”

  “A crime,” Anna insisted. “It’s so beautiful outside. The weather is perfect for a little walking about, and Luke says there’s fish in the river.”

  “Fish?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And the boys told Mama that they’re planning on catching a bunch of fish tomorrow for supper. Well, the boys that aren’t out on runs.”

  “Oh?” Tillie took hold of the plate and made a show of peaking under the cloth as she asked her next question. “Who will be going to fish?”

  Anna was younger, but she certainly was more than astute enough to see through her subterfuge. “Well, we talked Stone into coming with us.”

  “And?”

  “And,” Anna stepped away, swishing her skirts a little, “Luke might be coming.” Anna made it to the edge of the porch before she swung back around. “And yes, Wyeth is coming. So, will you?” Rushing back to Tillie, the youngest Hawkins gave her a hopeful look. “Will you come with us? I’m always the only girl and that means the boys gang up on me. If you come, it will be at least two girls to three boys and we’ll have a fighting chance.”

  “I wouldn’t be any good in a fight,” Tillie told her with a shrug.

  Anna chuckled. “Nothing physical,” she explained even as she balled up her hands into fists. “If that was the case, I’d win every time.” It was obvious to both ladies that Anna’s words were a fun little fib. “I’m betting that you’ll distract Wyeth enough that I might be able to dunk Luke in the river and maybe get Stone wet enough to look like he was stuck in the rain without his hat.”