Wild At Heart (7 page)

Horace Grimes nodded at him. “Glad to see you back on your feet. Got your gear back here.”

Horace disappeared for a moment then returned, holding out Adam’s hat and pistol. Glancing at the holster around his hips, he was surprised he hadn’t noticed the weapon was missing before now. He shoved the gun into the holster, chastising himself for getting lax. Being without his gun could be dangerous out here. Many men in North Dakota didn’t even wear a weapon, but as a boy growing up in Texas, he learned the wise thing to do was wear a gun. He pressed the shape back into his smashed hat. This one sure hadn’t stayed nice for long.

“Got some mail and a telegram for you and yours.” Horace handed him a stack of envelopes with the telegram on top. “Folks say you helped stop the robbery.”

Adam shrugged, uncomfortable with Horace’s evident admiration. “Just trying to save a lady from getting kidnapped.”

Horace nodded. “Well, the railroad is grateful, as I’m sure the woman is. Your crates of supplies are at the west end of the depot. Otis and Jasper can load them into your wagon for you.”

“Thanks. I don’t guess you’ve seen the robber’s loot bag? My pocket watch and money were in it.”

Horace pursed his lips and shook his head. “Can’t say as I have. Sorry.”

Adam needed to find his family’s money, but instead, he found an empty bench and dropped onto it. He yawned and opened the telegram addressed to himself.

He turned the paper over, as if the back held more information. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Leaning his head against the wall, his body felt heavy from the numbing effects of the laudanum. He wished he were already home.

Drew Dixon. Adam rummaged around in his mind, finally grasping hold of the name. The dime-novel writer. The one he’d invited to the ranch—was arriving today. Adam bolted upright and searched the platform for a stranger. What lousy timing. He was in no mood to host another greenhorn from the city. But he
had
made the invitation.

He pushed to his feet, blinked his vision clear, then approached Horace’s cage again. “Has a man by the name of Dixon been looking for me?”

“Nope. Can’t say as he has.”

“Mmm… must have missed his train or had something come up.” Adam looked for Miss Lansing and noticed the porter loading a huge trunk he didn’t recognize onto his wagon, as well as his own crates of supplies. He scowled, wondering if she planned to move in. He turned back to Horace. “If the man shows up, have him stay at the hotel. Someone from the ranch will probably come to town on Saturday, and he can catch a ride then.” Adam stepped back.

Miss Lansing smiled at him and slipped up to the window. “I need to send a telegram.”

Leaning against a post, he tried not to listen—sort of.

“To Heleen Vanderveer.” She relayed a Chicago address that for some reason sounded vaguely familiar. “Arrived safely in Medora. Mariah.”

Who was this Vanderveer woman? Was Miss Lansing from Chicago? And had she planned to stop in Medora? That’s how it sounded. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why a city gal like her would come here, unless she had something to do with the Marquis de Mores family.

Adam’s gaze drifted to the huge house on the hillside, which townsfolk called “the chateau.” The marquis rarely visited Medora anymore. Not since his business had failed. The town had been named after the marquis’ spunky wife, who still visited occasionally. The Marquis de Mores had been a visionary. He built a huge meat processing plant just across the Little Missouri River. Adam could see the tall smokestack from the depot. But the marquis’ dream of shipping refrigerated cattle back East had collapsed after two killing winters, where many ranchers lost the majority of their herds. Adam was glad they hadn’t had such rough winters since his family had arrived in North Dakota.

“Ready to go?”

Miss Lansing’s voice near his ear startled Adam out of his thoughts. He helped her down the depot steps and then assisted her as she climbed onto the buckboard. He clambered aboard the wagon again, realizing it was harder this time than the last. He reached for the reins out of habit, receiving a glare from Miss Lansing.

“Let me drive. That’s why I’m here—to help you.”

He still wasn’t sure how much help she was but didn’t feel like arguing the point. He passed the reins to her and leaned back in the seat, thankful to have his hat again.

“Just get the team out of town and down the road a ways, and they’ll get us home.”

He slouched down, ready to rest. When the wagon didn’t move, he pushed his hat off his forehead. “Something wrong?”

She nibbled her lip in so appealing a manner that he hated being such a grouch. “Um… which way is your home?”

With each step the horses took, Adam McFarland drifted farther in Mariah’s direction until his head finally rested against her shoulder. She’d watched him fight to stay awake and upright, but finally the laudanum had taken effect. Soft puffs of his warm breath tickled her neck. She longed to scratch the area but feared losing control of the team.

Mariah braced her foot against the floorboard. The weight of Mr. McFarland’s heavy body pushed her sideways, closer and closer to the wagon’s side opening.

“Back on your on side, buster.” Using her upper arm and elbow, she gently pushed him back as best she could.

At least he’d been right in that the horses seemed to know the way home. At each fork in the dirt road they’d come to, she’d held her breath and watched as the horses turned in unison without her assistance.

Samson nickered, and Delilah answered. They picked up their pace as they crested a hill covered in knee-high grass and prickly bushes. Mariah exhaled a sigh at the sight of the wooden uprights supporting a sign that read R
OCKING
M R
ANCH.
The sign looked odd standing there all by itself with no fences leading up to it. From her research, she knew much of this land was still open range, without wire and wooden boundaries.

The ranch landscape appeared much the same as what they’d been traveling through for over two hours. Steep hills covered in rock gave way to valleys and plateaus of grasslands. Sages and junipers provided excellent hiding places for some hidden birds that made a
ka-squack
sound and the quick, light gray rabbit that had darted across their path. Here and there small trees provided a smattering of shade, while wildflowers of violet, lemonade yellow, and sugar white made the grasslands and rocky areas beautiful. The gentle breeze whipped her cheeks as she enjoyed the palette of nature.

A prairie dog peeked out of its hole, sniffed the air, and froze. It stared at her and squeaked before scurrying back into its mounded home. Other nearby prairie dogs followed suit.

A sharp pain in her neck drew her attention away from the comical critters. Her shoulder ached from the pressure of Mr. McFarland’s head. It hadn’t seemed so heavy when it had rested in her lap. Using her shoulder, she pushed him to the right again. He mumbled something incoherent but didn’t awaken.

Now that they were closer to his home, anxiety swirled in her stomach, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The biscuit in her satchel was probably hard by now. If she hadn’t been so thirsty, she might consider trying to figure out a way to remove it from her bag. But holding the leather reins with both hands and keeping Mr. McFarland from falling off the seat took all of her physical capabilities.

Mariah tightened her grip on the reins to keep the horses from going too fast. They must be close to home since she had to fight to keep them at a slower pace. She wished she felt so enthusiastic. Would Mr. McFarland’s family hold her accountable for his injuries? Would they welcome her or send her packing?

Mariah licked the dust from her lips and grimaced at the grittiness in her teeth. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat and thought of the long walk back to town. She hadn’t seen any nefarious creatures like wolves or coyotes but knew they were around. The western horizon gradually turned plum and orange as the sun sank lower. The total silence, except for an occasional bird squawk and the sound of the wind, was eerie after the noise of Chicago. What kind of critters ruled the night way out here?

Surely Mr. McFarland’s family would be hospitable and let her stay the night—and hopefully longer. She had some money but hadn’t brought a lot, knowing that she’d be staying at the ranch. What would she do if those plans fell through?

They topped another hill, and a large log cabin came into view, as well as a big barn and some other smaller structures. Two brown horses stood side by side in a corral, their tails swishing. Mariah’s heartbeat picked up just as the team increased their pace again.

She’d dreamed for two years of visiting a ranch and learning things to make her stories more authentic, but she’d never once thought of arriving in such a manner. The horses headed straight for the barn in spite of Mariah’s struggles to turn them toward the house. “Haw, haw,” she yelled, sounding more like a flustered crow than a driver in control.

A woman exited the front door of the house and stood on the porch, her hand shading her eyes. She was certainly young enough to be Mr. McFarland’s wife.

“Adam!” she cried, just before her hand covered her chest. She pushed into motion, lifted her skirts, and jumped off the porch, ignoring the steps.

Mariah gasped at her unladylike behavior but concentrated on stopping the team before they plowed into the barn. She jerked back on the reins and pressed her feet hard against the floorboard. “Stop. Halt. I mean, whoa. Please, whoa.”

Mr. McFarland jerked awake and sat up. “Samson, whoa!”

He grabbed the reins with his good hand and assisted her efforts. Thankfully, the animals stopped just outside the barn.

Mariah had no idea if the barn’s double door opening was wide enough to accommodate the wagon. The last thing she needed now was to destroy the McFarlands’ barn and wagon and injure his fine horses.

Her passenger rubbed his eyes then pressed his palm against his bandaged forehead. The woman’s steps pounded as she ran toward the wagon. She skidded to a halt at Mr. McFarland’s side, honey blond braids flapping, and climbed up onto the wagon wheel. She glanced at him and then to Mariah. “What happened?”

“He was shot in a train robbery.” Mariah laid down the reins and attempted to wrestle the brake into place.

“Quinn!” the woman yelled toward the barn, “Adam’s hurt!”

“I don’t need him.” Mr. McFarland stood, wobbled, and then sank back onto the seat. “Gimme a minute, and I’ll be fine.”

“Good grief, Adam, you’re not invincible. It’s not a shame to ask for help.” The woman reached for his hand, but he shook it off.

A tall, broad-shouldered man ran out of the barn, followed by two other men. His concerned brown eyes mirrored the woman’s. In fact, they resembled each other so much that Mariah felt sure they must be related.

Her hero stood again and climbed down, albeit very ungracefully. He landed on the ground, grimacing, and grabbed his arm. Her heart ached for him, and she wished she could ease his pain.

The man named Quinn hurried to Mr. McFarland’s side, and ignoring the protests, assisted him into the house. The young woman followed then stopped and looked back at Mariah. “Thank you for bringing my brother home. Would you please come into the house and wait while we get Adam situated?”

Mariah nodded and allowed a skinny ranch hand to help her down.

Her brother.

Now why was that such welcome news?

Adam hated leaning on Quinn, but he doubted he’d make it all the way to the house on his own. He’d tried ever since their father died to prove himself responsible to his big brother, and once again he’d failed.

Quinn’s strong arm upheld Adam and half dragged him through the front door Anna had left open in her haste to get to him. He figured he’d be coddled and babied by her and Leyna for the next few days, not that he’d mind some of Leyna’s fine cooking. But rather than enjoying their fussing over him, it would remind him that he wasn’t pulling his weight.

Anna took his hat and Quinn’s and hung them on their pegs inside the front door. Quinn shouldered him down the hall to Adam’s small bedroom then set him on the bed and removed his boots.

“Lie down and tell me what happened,” Quinn ordered.

Adam complied, only because he didn’t have the energy to argue. “There was a train robbery a few miles outside of town.”

Eyes wide, Anna clung to the doorframe, listening. “How did you get shot?”

He explained how the robber had taken Miss Lansing captive and how he’d gotten shot trying to rescue her.

“You’re a hero.” Anna smiled.

“You were stupid to interfere.” Quinn glared at him.

Adam struggled to sit again so he didn’t have to look so far up to Quinn. “I couldn’t very well let those thieves take an innocent woman with them, could I? You know what would have happened to her. I kept thinking, ‘What if it was Anna?’ ”

“At least you’re all right.” Quinn sighed and stood. “Stay in bed for the next few days.”