Page 4 of A Dangerous Heart
Eli shoved back into the seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin in defiance. Gone was the older brother eager to help with his baby brother. Now she saw an echo of Victor, his father. Anne would have known better what to say, how to reach him. Clare didn’t.
Her stomach clenched with grief over missing Anne. Through every hardship, Anne’s faith had been a beacon. She’d changed Clare, brought light and truth into the world of darkness Clare had been born into. Clare had to continue Anne’s legacy for her boys.
“Calvin, Wyoming!” the conductor announced as he passed down the aisle. As the train slowed, Clare’s heart pumped faster. Ben sprang to his feet, gripping the seat back in front of him and lifting his boots off the floor to get a better view through the window of the row in front. Eli remained affixed to the seat, his mouth screwed tight. She prayed he would keep his mouth shut and not give them away the first moment off the train.
The train braked and rolled to a stop. Clare rose from her seat, heart pounding, knees trembling. She smiled tightly at the boys.
At the front of the train, the steel-haired man with a wide, neatly trimmed mustache, around the same age as her pa, was the first passenger to stand. After a grand stretch, he donned his fancy black Stetson. She’d made him when he’d first entered the compartment. He had the sharp eyes and that certain shrewd manner of a man who lived outside the law.
Ben’s hand slipped into hers. She dropped her eyes, turning her face away from the oily gaze that made her skin crawl and focusing on keeping the boys at her side as they disembarked.
A brisk breeze swept over the boardwalk, stirring up dust as Clare stepped off the train. Her skirt flapped against her legs as she surveyed the town. Behind the rooftops, the hills were dotted with trees, their green leaves on the verge of turning gold and amber with the cooler fall weather.
The streets were wider than the ones back home. Wide enough for two large wagons to pass. Wide enough for the herds of cattle that ranchers would drive into town and load onto trains headed for Chicago. Isaac had written in his last letter that she would arrive in time for the roundup. And wouldn’t that be something?
She passed a young woman, carrying a toddler on her hip, who seemed to all but disappear into the arms of a hulking man in overalls. Clare froze and pressed sweaty hands together, struck by the realization that she hadn’t considered how to greet her new groom. Would he anticipate a warm hug?
Where was Mr. McGraw?
She scanned the area and caught on a lone cowboy near the corner of the platform away from the rails. Dressed in dark trousers and a light-blue canvas shirt topped with a black vest, he stood rigid, shoulders squared, chin slightly lowered. He had that watchful look—steady and unblinking. His fingers even twitched at his side, a gunman ready to draw.
For a moment, she recoiled. Then she noticed what was missing—no gun belt, no pistol. Still, he glanced around, alert as any lawman.
No one else waited on the platform. Other folks were walking away. This had to be Isaac McGraw.
She took a few steps in his direction, her breath catching at the heat of his intense stare. If this was him, then her intended groom was an exceptionally handsome man, with his high cheekbones, vivid green eyes, and square jaw softened by a dimple. But why was he scowling at her?
They met at the far corner of the platform. She was aware of Ben and Eli trailing behind her. Eli muttered something to his brother that she didn’t hear.
“Mr. McGraw?” Was that her voice? Breathy and trembling?
She saw the minute flare of his nostrils. Other than that, he was totally unreadable. He nodded.
“I’m Clare.”
Ben shifted his feet, and the handsome cowboy–rancher’s eyes flicked over Ben and moved to Eli. His frown tightened.
Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t told her intended groom about her nephews. She hadn’t wanted to give him any reason to reject her.
She glanced away. Saw the train porters unloading wooden crates. One crate caught her attention with the flash of a familiar name—Hercules Powder.Explosives?
She blinked, drawing her gaze back to the rancher, who didn’t look any happier to see her. This man was nothing like the man in his letters, who’d written so fondly of the ranch and his family. Unease twisted in her belly, like when one of Pa’s plans went awry.
She put a hand on Ben’s small shoulder. “This is Ben. And this is Eli.” She raised her other hand to Eli’s shoulder.
Isaac’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t outright reject them. His gaze traveled to the street, past the crowd on the boardwalk, and landed on the man in the Stetson, standing several yards away, still on the platform. Stetson was talking with two other men who must be in their forties, wearing dusty trousers and vests over their shirts. Ranchers?
Isaac McGraw stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. She needed him to focus on her.
“Will we be going to the parson’s house first?” Clare pressed, trying for a soft smile. “Before we go to your ranch?”
Isaac’s eyes snapped back to her, distraction gone. “Miss—there’s been a mistake. I didn’t send for you, and we are not getting hitched.”
His words didn’t register at first. When they did, she felt that knot in her belly twist tighter. “What do you mean?” she asked. “A mistake?”
He didn’t answer directly. “It would be best if you got on that train and went back where you came from.”
Ben’s hand fisted in her skirt. Eli made a scoffing sound. She could feel the boys’ nerves ratcheting higher. Or maybe it was her own.
