Chapter 2

2

E dgar was tired to the bone.

After the physical efforts required to get all the passengers off the train, he was plumb worn out.

And a little displeased about having to walk back to town. Seb had told him someone had appropriated his horse for an injured passenger and he could pick it up at the train station back in town.

He didn't mind that so much as he minded having to escort the Morris sisters to the sheriff's office-cum-jail.

Listening to them prattle on with two of his brothers.

He felt old.

A lot older than his twenty-four years.

Stodgy even.

During his teen years, he'd been the prankster of the family. None of his brothers would've considered him dull. Ever.

And then Oscar and Maxwell, the two oldest, had gotten married. Jonas and Penny had started having more kids. And more and more of the burden of running the ranch had fallen to Edgar. He'd stopped having as much time for practical jokes. He hadn't really meant to become more serious-natured, it had just happened as he'd taken on added responsibility.

He didn't begrudge his older brothers their happiness—even if he did sometimes wonder if it could last. He didn't hold it against his pa that Jonas wanted to spend time with the youngest kids instead of working, working, working on the ranch.

Edgar planned on staying unmarried, so it seemed a natural conclusion that he would pick up the slack on the growing ranch. He wasn't lonely. Didn't think he would be even if all of his younger brothers got themselves hitched. He would have plenty of nieces and nephews around to keep him busy.

He still wanted to strangle his brothers for charming Fran Morris.

Obviously, both had somehow sensed Edgar's muddled feelings about the pretty liar and had immediately gravitated toward her.

Or else either—or both—were attracted to her themselves. She'd claimed to be of age , but if she was, she wasn't much more than eighteen. Seb's age. Matty was twenty.

And even liars could be pretty.

Edgar suddenly felt as if he'd swallowed a hot branding iron as fire mushroomed in his esophagus.

He sent a glare over his shoulder. Seb had the audacity to wink. That boy.

Face hot, Edgar turned away, stomping forward. They were getting close to Bear Creek, but to his estimation, they couldn't get there fast enough.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of town. Then the sheriff's office.

Naturally, it was locked up tightly.

"Stay there," he ordered when the older girl shifted impatiently.

She didn't even seem to hear him as she sank down onto the boardwalk step.

Even in its threadbare condition, her simple dress was a reminder of how out of place she would be in one of the cells. He'd only been in the building once, when he and Jonas had had to spring Ricky after a night of carousing. Thankfully his sometimes-errant brother had thus far stuck close to home while Jonas and Penny were on their trip.

He turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. At least she wasn't trying to run off, not like he would be if the law wanted him.

Seb's thoughts seemed to mirror his own as his youngest brother sidled close. "We ain't really gonna let 'em get locked up, are we?"

"Not our business," Edgar said with a grunt.

He glanced at Matty, who was lounging against a post several feet away, just waiting.

But he couldn't keep his eyes from skittering over his shoulder at the pair of girls. Fran had one shoe off, and he could see her bare foot peeking out beneath the hem of her skirt. Her toes were blistered and red.

He steeled himself against the irrational urge to help her. She probably wasn't used to walking. Her shoe, obviously a hand-me-down, was battered. The thing probably didn't fit right and had rubbed her toes raw.

Her toes were not his problem.

Her younger sister knelt at her side, speaking in a low, urgent tone. He couldn't make out the words. The girl hadn't spoken to anyone else that he'd noticed. Was she shy or just shaken up from the train wreck?

Suddenly, one of the girls' stomachs rumbled. Loudly.

He did not feel a twinge of pity.

Emma blushed, her expression turning chagrined.

Matty shook his head. "I'm going to run down to the café."

Edgar reached out an arm, temporarily blocking his brother's progress down the street.

Matty gave him a level stare. Unblinking. "No telling how long the sheriff will be."

After a long, hard afternoon, Edgar's own stomach wouldn't have minded a bit of sustenance. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Bring some wet cloths for her foot," he growled.

He didn't acknowledge the soft "thank you" from behind him.

Where was the sheriff?

He did not look at Fran or her sister and did not feel their curious gazes on him. He didn't.

Edgar exhaled and pushed back the brim of his hat.

"You heard anything about the train schedule?" He directed the question at Seb, but it was another who answered. Ricky.

"Station's closed."

His other twenty-year-old brother strode up to their little group. "I was at the station a minute ago and heard the news, then passed Matty on the street and he told me where you were."

Ricky tipped his hat to the two gals, a charming smile oozing across his face.

Edgar stepped in front of the girls, blocking them from Ricky's sight. "Where have you been?"

Seb had said he'd disappeared before the cattle had made it to Mr. Fredrick's place. Edgar had his suspicions, but would Ricky admit to where he'd been?

His brother squared his shoulders and set his jaw, steel gray eyes flashing. "Around."

Likely spending time with one of his many sweethearts. Where Edgar shied away from women at all costs, Ricky had been caught kissing behind the barn—and the church and the schoolhouse—too many times to count.

"Job's not finished," Edgar told his brother. "I need you with me, not out fooling around."

Ricky rolled his shoulders beneath his faded work shirt, as if he was looking for a wrestling match. His brother's penchant for using his fists to communicate had been a recent development, started when Ricky was caught flirting with another young buck's sweetheart. Normally Edgar would've been happy to oblige him, but not this time.

"Pa left me in charge while he's gone," he reminded his younger brother.

Ricky had no argument for that.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. For a few seconds, Edgar thought Ricky would turn and walk away.

"Until those cattle are delivered to Pa's buyer, I need you to quit with the tomfoolery and help me. You owe Pa that much."

The reminder of everything Jonas had done for them was a low blow, but Ricky gave a tight nod.

"Now what do you mean the station's closed?" Edgar asked.

Ricky shrugged, looking across the street with hooded eyes. "The agent said the tracks are out both east and westbound and that he'd had a wire from Calvin. Their station is closed too."

"When do they think it'll be repaired? Not in time for our shipment, anyway." Edgar answered his own question, thinking aloud.

"Agent said Tuck's Station has the closest operational rail stop." The small town was about halfway to Cheyenne, a good forty-five miles.

Edgar took off his Stetson and ran one hand through his hair, again noticing how long and messy it had gotten. It was a wonder Penny hadn't taken him to task and cut it for him, but then she'd been busy with preparations for their trip to Philadelphia.

He idly scanned the area, still unable to believe that the railroad they'd relied on for years to ship their livestock could let them down like this. The agreement between his pa and the buyer had been for delivery in Cheyenne by the first of June. Edgar had planned for an early delivery, but now they would be pushing it to get the cattle there on time.

It looked like they were going to be forced to do a cattle drive. They hadn't had one in years, not with the railroad making things convenient for local ranchers. With it being spring, others might be affected by the outage, as the White ranch was going to be. Maybe he could rustle up some additional funds by helping out their neighbors, taking their cattle for sale as well.

Raised voices from down the street brought his gaze around and stalled his thoughts. Here came the sheriff, with the matron, the circuit judge and several other folks trailing behind.

The pretty liar looked up from her seat on the step, and their gazes collided.

He quickly shifted his feet, breaking the almost palpable contact and turning away. He needed to get on his way. Had things to attend to.

And yet his feet felt like bricks, heavy and unmovable.

And he had to wait on Matty anyway.

"I want her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law—" The chaperone lady's voice was loud enough to carry down the street.

He'd heard her outside the overturned train car, going on and on about how Fran had cheated the orphanage that had sent the kids west. He figured everyone who'd been on the passenger car, plus those who'd come from town to help, had heard about the girl and the situation, and that the matron wanted her to pay.

And between the two groups of folks, the entire population of Bear Creek was likely to hear the story before sundown. Especially since he'd spotted Matilda Carter, the biggest gossip in town, in the group. She was likely to spread the story like wildfire.

If the girl wasn't a real orphan—at least not an underage one—and if the folks in town were turned against her, she wouldn't be able to find a decent job and would have to move on. He could only hope.

Except he did feel a little twinge behind his breastbone. He knew what it felt like to have all your choices taken from you. He'd been the last orphan at the last stop on the orphan train when he'd been sent west. And no one had wanted him. Not one family had taken a look at his mug and said, "That kid needs a family," or even, "That kid looks like a hard worker."

Until Jonas had arrived. If his pa hadn't come along, Edgar didn't know what he would've done—he'd had no way to survive on his own back then.

He didn't want to feel any sympathy for her. He didn't want to feel anything for her. He wanted her gone.

Matty came up the street from the other direction, towing a cloth-wrapped basket from the local cafe.

The itch on the back of Edgar's neck told him it was time to get out of there.

Fran had a hard time concentrating on all the voices arguing around her. Her nose had picked up on something savory from the basket Matty had brought back and it seemed her hunger pains had taken over her brain.

She forced herself back to the conversation at hand.

Maybe God was finally listening to her prayers. The circuit judge seemed to be fair, although he didn't seem entirely sympathetic to her side of things.

"So this girl is in fact an orphan, is that right?" He looked to Fran for confirmation.

Fran nodded. She desperately wished it wasn't true. Her parents' deaths and then her brother Daniel's desertion had started the downward spiral for her and Emma. Now it was on Fran's shoulders to protect the both of them.

"This orphan lied about her age and thus received the benefit from the orphanage and the Children's Help Association of food, clothing…" The man's lip curled in a slight sneer as he looked at her worn dress.

Fran felt the same way about the simple—and cheaply made—gray frock she'd been given when she and Emma had been accepted into the orphan train program. It was plain, with no adornments, and the color did nothing for her complexion. Its only redeeming quality had been that it was clean.

"Did she defraud the program in any other way?"

"No, sir," the matron said.

"Are you able to pay back these costs, small though they may be?" he asked Fran.

"No. I have no money to speak of."

"And why did you lie? Why come west and risk being separated from your sister?"

Tears sprang to Fran's eyes at the thought. She blinked them away. This was no place to break down.

She'd known it was possible they might be forced to separate, but by some blessing, no one had inquired about taking on either of them.

Again, her eyes found the burly cowboy—he really was a bear of a man—but he quickly looked away.

"It is a matter of a rather sensitive nature. I will tell you. But…in a more private setting."

She wasn't oblivious to the curious stares of the other passengers and the people passing by on the streets of the small town called Bear Creek.

The judge considered her, his gaze taking her measure.

She wouldn't lie again. She might've been forced to fudge her age to stay with Emma at the orphanage, but she had been taught since early youth that lying was wrong. If matters hadn't been so desperate, she would never have done it in the first place.

"Suffice it to say, if I had had another choice, I wouldn't have lied."

The judge tapped one long index finger against his chin. "You know, I believe you."

Her heart thumped once. In anticipation or fear, she didn't know.

"I can't jail this young lady. The amount she needs to repay is so miniscule that it would not be worth my time prosecuting or holding her."

The matron protested, voice going even louder. Fran didn't hear what she said over the rushing in her ears. Emma threw shaking arms around Fran and they embraced, squeezing tight.

"However, I can't just let you go, miss."

Fran's hopes crashed around her feet at the judge's words. She froze, Emma murmuring her dismay beside her.

"Your sister is still a ward of the Children's Help Association until she's placed out. Even though you're of age, they likely can't release her to you because you have no way of supporting yourself."

"I'll get a job," Fran said quickly. "I was planning to work. I'm good with figures, and I'm a quick learner."

The judge sighed. "After all these dramatics…" He sent a stern look at the matron, who was frowning, still clearly upset that her claims had been dismissed. "In a town this small, I can guarantee that everyone now knows your business and that you've lied and been made a spectacle of. Not a lot of folks around here want to risk hiring someone with a reputation like that."

Her stomach swooped low. She tasted bitter disappointment. So then, what was she supposed to do?

The four cowboys were getting ready to leave. She could tell by their shifting feet. In desperation, she said the first thing she could think of. "What about Jonas White?"

Everyone around her froze.

The sheriff, who'd been standing silently nearby while the judge questioned her, now spoke up. "Do you know Jonas?"

"No—that is to say, someone in the last town said a Mr. Jonas White might take us in."

It wasn't an outright lie. But the comment had come from a man in a fine suit and had been disparaging. More to the effect of, "That Jonas White will take in any kind of riffraff."

Edgar's head came up slowly, the brim of his hat hiding his eyes until the last possible moment, when they locked on her.

"Boys?" the sheriff asked.

Fran knew her surprise showed on her face. All of them were somehow related to this Jonas?

"None of these boys told you their surname? They all belong to Jonas White. They are his sons."

"My pa's out of town." Edgar looked uncomfortable, like he'd rather be anywhere other than where he was. "So I'm afraid he can't help you. Sorry."

But he didn't look sorry. He looked relieved.

"All she needs is a place to stay," the fourth brother said, the one whose name she hadn't caught. He looked so totally different than the other three that it was a wonder they were related.

"She can't stay on a ranch with a bunch of bachelors," Edgar argued.

"She could if she was married to one of them." Seb's simple sentence changed the tone of the entire conversation. Edgar's gaze landed on hers and something, some connection rose between them, silent but clear.

His face above his beard reddened. She didn't think it was embarrassment turning his skin that shade of pink.

For the briefest moment, Fran considered it. Considered that the burly cowboy would certainly be able to protect her and Emma if Mr. Underhill was able to track them this far. Considered what it might be like to lean on someone like him, someone who could obviously handle the difficulties life threw at him.

Until he spoke.

"No," the cowboy said in a voice that rang with finality.

"I'll take her in." Another male voice joined the hubbub that had ensued in their little group since Fran Morris had uttered the name "Jonas White," this one coming from the shadows of the alley beside the jail.

A man with the look of a gambler, in a fancy black vest and trousers, stepped into their circle of conversation. John Graves.

Edgar had seen him around town, knew he owned one of the saloons, but he wasn't acquainted with the man on a personal level.

"I've got a room she can board in, and I`ve got work. I'll even take the sister, too."

"She don't wanna be no saloon girl," Matty protested.

Fran recoiled with a little gasp. She took a half-step in front of her sister. Maybe protecting her from the man's calculating gaze.

"It wouldn't appear she has any other choice," Graves said coolly.

"That's no life for a lady," Ricky broke in.

His eyes met Edgar's, and Edgar saw the shadows of a life that the other man rarely spoke of—his childhood. Ricky knew from personal experience it wasn't any kind of life for a woman, liar or not. And Edgar believed his brother.

"I'll marry her."

Seb.

Had everyone around him gone crazy?

"You're not marrying her," he told his brother in no uncertain terms.

"Well, someone has to be responsible for them," the circuit judge said.

"I can take care of us both—" Seb argued.

Voices broke out all around then, Seb's and Matty's right in the mix, arguing.

Edgar could just imagine his fun-loving, cheerful brother being shackled to someone who would ruin his life. Pretty she may be, but she was a manipulative liar to boot. His na?ve brother had no idea what he was getting into.

He couldn't let that happen to Seb.

"You're not marrying her," Edgar repeated. Loud enough to silence everyone around him. "I am."