Page 2 of Wrangling Her Heart
“Call me Ma Richards. I was a long time ago.”
“What brings you back, Ma Richards?”
“I’m just looking for my daughter.”
“Isn’t that peculiar, George? Ma Richards is looking for her daughter and we are looking for…”
“Our cousin,” George snapped.
“That’s not…”
“A distant cousin.” George’s glare was enough to convey his message without a single word. Tillie quickly abandoned any thoughts of arguing with him.
“It’s a big country.” Mrs. Richards pulled her traveling bag onto her lap. “People move around all the time.”
“Have you been looking for your daughter for long?”
Mrs. Richards’ shoulders lifted slightly; her arms pulled in closer to her body. Her face remained neutral, almost indifferent. “About six years. She moved after my son died.”
“I am so sorry,” Tillie murmured.
“I have family in Lincoln. So, I’m going to stay with them. They’ll help me look.” Mrs. Richards’ voice was like ice, slicing through the tension in the coach. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, sending a chill down Tillie’s spine. She couldn’t help but shiver under Mrs. Richards’ sharp gaze.
Tillie shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her clothes were fine for the weather in Texas, but not for the cooler temperatures in Nebraska.
“Where’s your coat, child?” Mrs. Richards asked.
“I must have left it in my luggage.” She prayed Mrs. Richards didn’t see through her lie.
“It’s November. You didn’t think you’d need it in Denver?” The older woman’s gray eyes narrowed, studying Tillie from head to toe, before the corners of her mouth turned down in a subtle frown.
“It was very warm when we left Texas.” Tillie tugged on George’s coat sleeve. “Can you please close the window, George? I’m getting cold.”
George, with a grunt, closed the window, shutting out the gusts of stiff wind that had been creeping in. He turned to Tillie with an exasperated expression, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
Tillie’s stomach rumbled loudly, a reminder of how long it had been since their last meal. She leaned over to George. “I’m hungry,” she whispered.
“You’ll have to wait until we find him,” he hissed.
“You don’t know where he is,” she hissed in return.
Mrs. Richards, who had been observing the exchange from her seat, reached into her traveling bag and pulled out a small, wrapped package. Without a word, she handed it to Tillie.
“What’s this?” Tillie asked, eyeing the package warily.
“Food,” Mrs. Richards replied simply. “You should have picked up something before you boarded. That is why the mercantile was right there.”
George’s hand reached out towards the package, but Tillie instinctively turned her body to shield it from view. Her arm cradled it protectively as she cautiously unwrapped the package to reveal a few crackers and a piece of cheese. Her stomach growled even louder at the sight of food. She thanked Mrs.Richards profusely and eagerly bit into one of the crackers, scattering crumbs down the front of her dress.
“Slow down,” George chided, as she devoured the small meal.
“I’m sorry,” Tillie mumbled through a mouthful of cracker crumbs. Mrs. Richards reached into her worn leather bag and pulled out a shiny red apple. She offered it to George, but he shook his head and looked away. Undeterred, she turned to Tillie, who eagerly snatched the apple from her hand and hugged it to her chest. “Fank few.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mrs. Richards watched Tillie and George for a moment before reaching into her bag once more. She pulled out a second apple and took a bite. Lifting her hand, she waved the fruit at the siblings. “You two seem close.”
“We’re cousins,” George replied curtly.
