Mal shook his head.
“Suit yourself.” His angel glanced around the barn, looking less than fully in charge for the first time since he’d met her. Then she hugged her arms around her waist and tried to hide a shiver.
“You’re cold,” Mal accused with more harshness than he should have, but doggone it, the girl should have told him she was getting cold.
He immediately threw her mittens back at her and stripped out of the coat. “You need to go back to the house, kid. Go sit by the stove or somethin’.”
“I’m not a baby.” But when her lower lip came out in a pout his resolve hardened. She was far too young to be shivering in a cold barn when a warm house was available.
“Scram, kid. I’ll be fine.”
She put the coat on and slipped the mittens over her small hands. “What’s your name?” she demanded.
He glared at her then finally relented. “Malachi.”
She smiled again, making him a mite dizzy. “I’m Emma.”
“Good for you,” he groused, still feeling guilty that he’d let her get cold. “Now, scram.”
She did.
And all the light went with her. Leaving Mal alone. In the dark. Where he belonged.
He’d gotten used to the condition. It shouldn’t bother him. Hadn’t bothered him for years, in fact. But it did now. Because now he knew what he’d been missing.
Mal picked up the saddle blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Then he grabbed his jar and turned to go back to his corner and bury himself in the hay. The sight of the milk pail stopped him. She’d left it behind.
A little thrill coursed through him. Did that mean she’d be back? Or would the milk be left here? Forgotten. Like him. Maybe he should carry it up to the front stoop. To thank her for helping him.
He bent over to grab the handle. The barn door flew open.
“Good news, Malachi!” Emma stood in the doorway, the beam of her smile so bright he nearly had to lift a hand to shade his eyes. “The aunts said I can keep you!”
1
SUMMER 1894
HARPER’S STATION
BAYLOR COUNTY, TEXAS
Emma Chandler yanked the hostile note free of the nail that had tacked it to the church door. She wadded the vile thing in her fist and shoved it into her skirt pocket, though what she truly wanted to do was hurl it into the street, run over it with about fifty horses, spit on it, throw dirt clods at it, and finally set it on fire and watch it wither into a pile of harmless ash that would be erased by the wind.
How dare someone threaten her ladies? The fiend had no right!
“He’s getting bolder.” The stoic voice of her friend cut through Emma’s spiraling temper, reminding her that railing at injustice rarely solved the problem. Coolheaded planning. That’s what they needed.
“Yes, he is.” Emma scanned the countryside for signs of the coward, even though she knew she’d find nothing. She never did. And this was the third note he’d left in a fortnight. Each one in a place that penetrated the colony a little more deeply. “But at least it’s still just words.”
“We’ve no guarantee it will stay that way.” Victoria Adams voiced Emma’s greatest fear. “If words won’t get him what he wants, he will escalate.” Tori’s voice rang with the certainty of one who had experienced such a lesson firsthand. “Let me see the note, Emma.” She held out her palm.
Emma sighed and tugged the wad from her pocket. She dropped it into her friend’s hand, knowing that Tori would recognize at once that an escalation had already occurred.
Victoria uncrumpled the note and scanned the page, a soft echo of the threatening words escaping under her breath as she read.
“Women of Harper’s Station—
Clear out by tonight or I’ll clear you out myself. This is your last warning.”
“We have to call a meeting.” Emma marched down the church steps and began pacing the yard.
Tori followed her down the steps but didn’t pace. She simply leaned against the railing and waited for Emma to circle back around. “What will you tell them?”
The soft question stopped Emma in her tracks. She spun toward her friend. “I won’t leave, Tori. I won’t let a bully drive me away.” She flung out her arm toward the handful of buildings that clustered around the old stagecoach station that had attracted the first permanent settlers to the area twenty years ago. “Harper’s Station is supposed to be a refuge for women escaping this kind of intimidation. We’ve worked too hard building this place up, bringing the women in, giving them a fresh start. I won’t scurry away like some timid little mouse just because some pigheaded man wants to flex his muscles!”