Best he just get on with the business at hand.
Malachi climbed the steps to the telegraph office and stomped inside. Grace glanced up from her position behind the counter and set down the long paper tape she’d been examining.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Shaw?”
Mal touched the brim of his hat and bent forward to prop his rifle against the wall of the counter. “Need to send a couple telegrams,” he said, straightening. “One to the county land office and the other to my outfit up in Montana.”
It was past time to check in with the rail boss and to remind himself where he belonged.
17
Emma didn’t linger in the empty café. She needed company. The sensible, level-headed kind. The kind that could manage objectivity even while being fiercely loyal. She needed Tori.
Shoulders set, Emma marched down the boardwalk to Victoria’s store and pushed open the door. At the sound of the bell jangling, Tori came out from the back room, a welcoming smile on her face. A smile that shifted from welcoming to penetrating in a blink of an eye. Emma’s shoulders sagged in reaction—not in disappointment, but in relief. Here she didn’t have to pretend to have all the answers. Here she didn’t have to be in charge. Here she could be her weak, filled-with-doubts self, and no one would care.
“Go ahead and flip the Closed sign over.” Tori gestured toward the placard hanging in the front display window. “I’ve already got some water heating for tea.”
Emma grinned and shook her head. “How’d you know I’d be coming over?”
Tori gave her a disbelieving stare. “Private ammunition lessons in the café with the man you’ve pined over for half your life? Please. I put the kettle on the moment I spied Betty and Grace leaving.”
Warmth infused Emma’s face. Were her feelings so obvious? Heavens, she hoped not. What would people think?
Ducking her head, Emma pivoted away from the knowing look in Tori’s eyes and flipped over the sign. She turned the lock in the door, as well, needing to ensure that the embarrassing conversation she was about to have with her best friend stayed between the two of them.
“Come on,” Tori urged as she held up the edge of the curtain that separated her living quarters from the store. “I want to hear all the details.” She pointed a finger at Emma as she neared, her eyes taking on a faux-stern expression. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your odd behavior during the meeting, either. Time to spill your secrets, Emma Chandler. The juiciest ones first.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Emma laughed.
“You know, it’s not too late to kick you out of the colony,” Emma threatened. She added a thump to her friend’s shoulder for good measure as she passed into the small sitting room that adjoined the dining and kitchen areas farther back.
Tori didn’t laugh at Emma’s quip. She never laughed. But she did grin in good humor as she followed Emma into the chamber.
“Hi, Miss Chandler.” Lewis scrambled off his belly, where he’d been playing with a miniature iron train set on the floor, and dipped his head to Emma. His gaze darted over to his mama as if to ensure she witnessed his fine manners.
Emma hid a smile. Tori was a stickler for gentlemanly behavior. When she nodded slightly to him, pride lit Lewis’s features. He turned his attention back to their guest, his mannerly obligations fading under a burst of excitement.
“Did you know Mama’s getting a big shipment of guns on Monday? She’s even letting me have my own!” He danced around Emma, his nickel-plated train engine dangling half out of his fist. “A popgun that really shoots!”
“Corks,” Tori clarified.
“How marvelous!” Emma bent down to address the four-year-old on his level. “I’m certain you’ll be an excellent shot in no time.”
“As long as he doesn’t practice in the store. Right, Lewis?”
He nodded his blond head with admirable sedateness. “Yes, Mama.” Then he turned his impish eyes toward Emma and winked—or tried to. Both eyes closed instead of just the one, but the conspiratorial air was sufficiently conveyed despite the misfire. “I’ve already started collecting targets to practice with. I’ve got a whole box of ’em under my bed.”
“Do you?” Emma enthused. Lewis was such a darling boy. So full of life and adventurous spirit. And at the moment, the perfect excuse to postpone the awkward conversation that loomed on her horizon. “What kind of targets?”
“A curved piece of tree bark that’ll stand up all on its own. A scrap of ribbon with a button on the end my mama made me from the leftovers in her sewing box. It’ll dangle real good from a branch or fence post. She’s been saving empty food tins for me, too. Wanna see?” He took a few eager steps toward the narrow staircase that led to the sleeping rooms upstairs, but Tori stopped him.