Sherri Shackelford - A Temporary Family

Nolan tilted his head. This route served Virginia City, Montana, and catered almost exclusively to prospectors seeking their fortune.

Bill extended his hand, and a woman grasped his fingers. Her bonnet concealed her face and hair, and Nolan allowed himself only one brief, admiring glimpse of her figure, which was encased in a lively green calico dress. Though he’d come to appreciate his solitude, he couldn’t help but notice her. The last woman he’d seen had been the sixty-year-old wife of the traveling doctor.

“Thank you, Mr. Golden,” she said, her voice at once crisp and soothing. “How are you feeling?”

Bill doffed his hat. “I feel all right, I guess, ma’am. I mean, Miss Hargreaves. Thank you for asking.”

She fixed her gaze on the outrider as though she was peering into his very heart. The intensity of the moment raised Nolan’s guard, but there was nowhere to hide while he held the horses. Shifting on his feet, he glanced away and back again.

“I know the change hasn’t been easy.” Her attention didn’t flicker toward her new surroundings. She kept her interest directed solely on the outrider. “But you’re doing well. I’m proud of you. Whenever you find yourself straying from the path, remember what we talked about.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A flush spread across the outrider’s face. “I will, ma’am. I surely do appreciate your kind words and all. I’ll try and do my best.”

She patted his arm. “That’s all any of us can do.”

Her words were gentle and sincere, and a pulse throbbed in Nolan’s throat. He made a mental note to avoid the woman at all costs. Since returning from the war, he kept to himself. He didn’t want anyone looking at him the way she was studying Bill. He didn’t want anyone peering close enough to see the troubling battles he fought each day.

“I’d best see to the horses, Miss Hargreaves.” The mottled blush on Bill’s face deepened. “This here is the dinner stop. You can stretch your legs and enjoy some solid ground. If you need anything, let me know.”

“You’re too kind,” she said. “Solid ground sounds marvelous. When I agreed to assist my sister, this was not at all what I imagined.”

While Nolan pondered the odd change in the normally taciturn outrider, the second-oldest girl clutched her stomach and pitched forward.

“I don’t feel so good, Aunt Tilly.” The girl groaned.

“Are you certain, Caroline?” Miss Hargreaves was by the child’s side in an instant. “Do you not feel good a little or a lot?”

“I’m certain,” the girl replied with a gulp. “I don’t feel good a lot.”

“Oh, dear.”

The woman glanced around and Nolan caught his first glimpse of her face. His curiosity deepened. She was younger than he’d expected. On first impression, her looks hovered somewhere between plain and pretty. On second glance he placed her nearer to pretty. She had eyes the color of a Virginia bluebell, a complexion bronzed by the sun and a pert nose. Though none of those features was particularly remarkable on its own, taken together they were uniquely pleasing.

She caught his interested gaze. “What should I do?”

Nolan placed a hand against his chest. “Are you asking me?”

Miss Hargreaves nodded.

Passengers rarely paid him any mind. Nolan frowned. He preferred it that way.

“Well, uh,” he stuttered. “There’s a privy out back.”

“Excellent suggestion, thank you.” She draped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Mr. Golden, will you kindly look after Victoria and Elizabeth for a few minutes?”

“Absolutely,” Bill said. “Take as much time as you need.”

Nolan’s frown deepened. The outrider rarely showed even the barest consideration to any of the passengers. Bill also loathed delays of any kind; he was scrupulous about the schedule.

Once she’d rounded the corner and disappeared, the driver leaped from his seat and set about unhitching the horses. With Bill’s help, the three men had the horses switched out in record time. Throughout the well-honed operation, the two remaining girls assembled daisy chains with dandelions they’d plucked from the overgrowth between the unused buildings.

Nolan backtracked to the relay station and set the table for supper. When the passengers failed to appear, he returned to the corral and propped one foot on the lowest slat.

Bill sidled nearer. “Maybe you oughta go out back and see what’s taking Miss Hargreaves so long.”

“She’s your passenger.” Nolan hoisted an eyebrow. “What’s gotten in to you today, anyway?”

“She has a way of talking to a fellow.” The outrider slid his hand beneath his coat, as though reaching for the flask he usually kept in his breast pocket, then stilled. “I told her things I ain’t never told anybody. I even quit drinking.”

“You were sober when you told her those things?” Nolan’s curiosity swelled. “Why would you do that?”

“She asked.”

“You’ve killed six highwaymen in the past ten years. You’ve fought Indians. You once outran a prairie wildfire. And you’re telling me you’re intimidated by that slip of a woman?”

“It’s not like that.” Bill swallowed, and his Adam’s apple worked. “She never asked me to quit. Instead, she asked me why I drank as much as I did.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know. Then she started asking me about my family, and about my experiences. The next thing I know, I was blabbering my whole life story.”

Nolan’s stomach dipped. He’d rather be sitting behind enemy lines again than prattling to a stranger about his life. After spending two years as a Confederate prisoner of war at Rock Island, he’d become intolerant toward people. While living in the prisoner camp, he’d acquired certain quirks that set him apart from regular folks. He’d become obsessively neat and austere about his possessions. Each evening he spent an hour checking the placement of each item and ensuring the buildings he occupied had been secured. If he didn’t, he had nightmares that sometimes turned violent.

He’d survived the War for Southern Independence only to return home and discover his family farm had been confiscated. He’d gone adrift after that, moving from job to job and state to state. Over time his eccentricities had become increasingly difficult to disguise. He’d gradually accepted that the war had changed him in ways that ran too deep to fathom. In order to camouflage his dilemma, he’d settled in this remote, abandoned town. He fully expected that after a few years away from the company of other folks, he’d be healed. Having strangers underfoot exacerbated his troubles. The sooner this bunch ate dinner and moved on, the better.

The woman finally appeared, her arm still resting protectively around the girl’s shoulders. Nolan heaved a sigh of relief. They’d be gone soon.

Except Caroline looked worse than when she’d left. Her face was pale with an almost greenish tinge, her forehead was screwed up and both hands protectively covered her stomach.

Bill cleared his throat and elbowed him in the side.

Nolan flashed the outrider a questioning gaze.

“Tell her about dinner,” Bill mumbled beneath his breath.

“There’s dinner at the relay station,” Nolan declared. “Boiled beans, bacon and bread.”

The woman’s nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly. “That sounds edifying. Let’s have some bread, shall we, Caroline? Bread is good for an upset stomach, isn’t it, Mr.—?” She raised her voice in question.

“Mr. West.”

He hesitated in revealing something as simple as his name. He needed some distance between them. He’d considered Bill as tough as hardtack, and she’d somehow wheedled her way into the man’s confidence.