“But how can we stand together when one of the links in our chain is busted?” Betty challenged, her chin jutted forward, her eyes blazing.
Mal started to move toward the wagon, thinking to jump up beside Emma and make a tangible show of support. But a quick glance from her warned him off.
“You’re absolutely right, Betty. We can’t depend on a weakened link. But neither can we discard it into the scrap heap. We don’t know her motives, what kind of hold our enemy might have over her. What if she is as much a victim as the rest of us? What if the outlaw is threatening the life of someone she loves in order to gain her cooperation? What if he’s blackmailing her or forcing her to do his bidding by some other means?”
Malachi watched the faces of the women around him. Some softened in sympathy, others crinkled in confusion, while others hardened even further.
Betty’s was about as soft as a slab of granite. “What if she’s simply a Judas, getting paid to turn on her own? Or what if she’s the outlaw’s lover and has been in on the plan from the very beginning? We can’t just look the other way, not when people—sisters—could die.”
Murmurs of agreement rose again, but Emma held up a hand to silence them. “You’re right. We don’t know the true motives of the one who has aided our enemy. But every one of us came to Harper’s Station with the hope of starting over. We all have things in our past that we wanted to escape or change or forget. None of us are in a position to cast stones. That’s why I’m going to give whoever is involved the chance to make the right decision. To come to me. Privately. Tonight at the station house, I’ll leave the front door unlocked, and I’ll be waiting in the parlor. All night. There will be no blame given, no punishment inflicted. In fact, I will provide safe passage out of town before first light and funds for a train ticket to someplace new. An escape and a chance for a fresh start, no questions asked.”
“And if the traitor don’t show up?” Betty jabbed.
“Then we’ll have to try something more drastic, like doing away with privacy and making sure no one is left alone at any time. There will be nowhere she can hide and no way she can aid the outlaw. Whatever consequences arise because of that will be on her own head.” Emma scanned the audience, slowly, her gaze hesitating over each lady in the crowd. “So, please. Whoever you are. Come see me tonight. It is the best option, both for your safety and for ours.”
After that final plea, Emma stepped to the edge of the wagon. Mal hurried forward to help her down. She offered him a small smile of thanks, then turned and walked back to the station house, head held high despite the fact that her tender heart must be throbbing with disappointment and grief.
He ached for her even as his chest nearly burst with pride over the way she’d handled the situation. Strong yet compassionate. Fair yet filled with grace.
Although he had to admit, there was one thing he sided with Betty on. Emma couldn’t know the true motives of the traitor. Her soft heart wanted to believe the best of people, but he’d seen the ugliness of evil too often to doubt its prevalence.
If she wanted to open her door in the dead of night to a woman who’d betray her own neighbors, he couldn’t stop her. But he sure as shootin’ wouldn’t be leaving her to face her caller alone. He planned to lurk in a dark corner close at hand, armed and ready to do whatever it took to keep her safe.
30
The knock on Emma’s door never came.
Mal sat in the darkened kitchen all night. Gun ready, ears perked for the slightest sound. But nothing came.
He watched Emma from a distance as sleep overtook her, head drooping, then shoulders, then her entire body sliding down the back of the settee to lie across the length of the seat. He crept into the parlor sometime after midnight to cover her with a knitted throw. He arranged her legs atop the cushion, slipping her shoes from her feet and bending her knees so that she lay tucked in a more comfortable position. Then he brought the afghan up over her shoulder. His fingers brushed against the softness of her dark hair and a nearly painful longing stirred in his soul.
She was so beautiful, his angel. So brave. Such a big heart. Always trying to save the world. Just as she’d saved him.
Malachi bent forward and feathered a tender kiss against her temple, one so soft he barely felt it himself, but one so full of feeling, his heart nearly burst as it pounded in his chest. His eyes closed as his lips touched her skin. He hovered, unable to pull away. So close to what he craved. To whom he loved. His angel. His Emma.