She nodded and glanced away. “But of course you’re fine. And in a hurry.” She smiled brightly—too brightly, she was sure, thanks to the embarrassment thrumming through her veins—and stepped back. “Go on with your errand. I’ll help Tori.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but Emma didn’t give him the chance. She spun around and hurried back into the storeroom.
Now that her brain was cleared of its panic fog, she recognized Benjamin Porter right away. Or what was left of him. The poor man was a bloodied mess. His shirt was torn in several places, his left knee—scraped raw—was visible through a hole in his trousers. He sat—well, squirmed was more like it—in one of Tori’s kitchen chairs, unwilling to still enough for Tori to clean away the dirt and blood from his face.
Thankfully, Lewis was nowhere to be seen. Tori must have sent him into their living quarters, away from the grisly scene.
“I’ve got to get Helios and Hermes.” Mr. Porter tried to rise, but Tori quickly set aside the basin of water she held and fit her palms to the large man’s shoulders. “They’re stuck in the traces.” He batted at her hands. “Might injure themselves.”
“You’re staying right here.” Tori’s firm tone left no room for discussion. “Mr. Shaw will tend to your precious horses.”
When Mr. Porter continued to struggle, Emma joined the fray, helping Tori press him back into his seat.
Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Bandits!” He wagged his head back and forth as if witnessing their approach on either side of him. “Can’t let them get the shipment. Victoria needs it. She’s counting on me.”
Victoria? Since when had Tori and the freighter moved their relationship to a first-name basis? Or had they? To be fair, the man was spouting off about invisible bandits. Not exactly his most lucid moment.
Emma met Tori’s concerned gaze over the man’s head. “He’s talking like he doesn’t know where he is.”
“I’m not sure he does. Mr. Shaw thinks he hit his head in the crash. There’s a huge knot on this side.”
“Helios! Hermes!” Mr. Porter cried out as if in pain, his gaze seeing something beyond Emma’s shoulder, something only visible in his own mind.
“He keeps rambling on about his horses, fool man,” Tori muttered, reaching again for the cloth floating in the basin sitting atop a nearby crate. “More worried about them than himself.” She leaned her mouth close to the big man’s ear. “Mr. Shaw went to fetch those great beasts of yours. He’ll take care of them.”
The freighter’s hand lashed out without warning and latched onto Tori’s arm. The cloth she’d just retrieved dripped water on his trousers, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His wild eyes searched her face. “Don’t let him put them down. Even if a leg is broke. I might be able to mend it. Promise.” He roared it the second time. “Promise!”
“I’ll tell him as soon as I see him,” Tori hurried to assure him, though Emma noticed she was careful not to promise something she couldn’t guarantee. “He’ll take good care of them. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
Emma had never before prayed for the health of horses, but she did so now. Heaven knew this man had been through enough already, he didn’t need to lose what seemed to be his closest friends, as well.
Mr. Porter released Tori’s arm and settled, mollified at least for the moment. A red mark marred the skin below the cuff of her sleeve, but Tori ignored it and went back to cleaning his face.
Now that the big man had calmed, Emma couldn’t help prodding her friend just a bit. “He called you Victoria,” Emma whispered, curious to see her friend’s reaction. Tori had always insisted on the strictest formality when dealing with men. It was one of the ways she held them at arm’s length.
“The poor man’s out of his head,” Tori said, her cheeks admirably unflushed. “I never gave him leave to address me as such.”
Emma smiled. “But he obviously thinks of you in such terms and cares about your opinion of him, if that outburst was any indication. The man’s sweet on you.”
There was the blush. Finally!
Tori gave her a sharp glare, though, so it could have been anger that spawned the pink in her cheeks. “You have better things to do than play matchmaker, Emma. You know my feelings on the matter.”
She did. Tori had no intention of marrying. Or even being around men more than was necessary. And Emma understood why. A brutal betrayal like the one she’d endured would scare any woman off of marriage. Yet not all men were scoundrels. Mr. Porter had been serving as their freighter for nigh on a year, and he’d proven himself honorable and dependable and had never treated any of the ladies of Harper’s Station with anything but respect and kindness. What if Tori was throwing away a chance at love simply out of fear?
And what if you’re throwing away the same chance out of duty?