Coming From California (The Pioneer Brides 0f Rattlesnake Ridge Book 2) Read online

  He was gratified by Daisy’s barely-hidden look of delight and decided now was as good a time as any to make his intentions clear. Especially since he needed more time to talk to her privately anyway, and they’d just proven that being alone together with no witnesses might not be the best idea. “Would you care to take a walk with me after school lets out tomorrow, Miss Daisy?”

  Daisy beamed as she said, “I’d like that very much.”

  “Can we come too?” Isabelle asked innocently.

  Luke hid a smile. “Not this time, sweetheart,” he told her. “Maybe we could do something another time… how would you like to go for a picnic at the lake on Saturday?” He glanced at Barb, who was already clapping her hands together happily. “Miss Daisy?”

  “It sounds charming, but how will we get there? It’s a few miles from the Ridge,” Daisy said practically.

  “Parts of the Shooting Star ranch run right down to the lakeshore,” Luke told her. “We can drive a wagon almost the whole way there or hire horses for you and Barb. The twins could ride with me and Jack.”

  “I haven’t been on a horse in quite a few years,” Daisy confessed with a hint of trepidation in her tone. “A wagon would probably be best.”

  “Then I’ll arrange for one and pay Matthew to pack us a picnic lunch.”

  Isabelle and Ishmael jumped around in excitement, and Barb shot him a joyous glance. It had obviously been too long since she’d had a treat like a day out with the children. Luke just hoped Jack was taking notes. Barb deserved a little spoiling.

  At any rate, he congratulated himself on a fine idea. Now he had another good reason to see Daisy at least twice more this week.

  Unfortunately, it was getting late, and the table still needed to be cleared. Luke certainly wasn’t going to leave Daisy with a stack of dirty dishes. Rolling his shirtsleeves up, he insisted on washing them once Jack hauled in a pail of water from the pump outside, handing the clean dishes to Isabelle to dry before Ishmael stacked them in the cabinet. With teamwork it didn’t take long at all. The grateful glance Daisy shot him was more than sufficient payment for the effort.

  Soon enough he was sitting back down beside her, joining in the conversation Barb was telling about Rattlesnake Ridge’s history. The two children settled into Daisy’s rocking chair by the fire, sharing a storybook and leaving the adults to talk… until eventually Barb spotted nodding heads and remarked that it was getting late.

  “About three-thirty?” Luke suggested to Daisy as Barb started to marshal the sleepy children for the walk back to the boarding house. “Tomorrow afternoon? We didn’t get to finish our conversation.”

  Daisy blushed. “As long as it’s conversation, Mr. Rockford,” she said pertly. “I shouldn’t want you to think my agreeing to take a walk with you was an invitation to take any liberties.”

  “Absolutely, Miss Daisy.” He grinned at her. While he would never regret having stolen the kiss, his conscience was definitely jabbing at him. “I promise, you have my utmost respect.” He placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “But I really do need to talk to you. Urgently.”

  “Tomorrow at three-thirty then.” She awarded him a forgiving smile and reached out to lightly touch his hand. “I’ll look forward to it, and to our picnic on Saturday.”

  “Luke, can you carry Ishmael?” Jack asked from by the door. He already had Isabelle in his arms, her head against his shoulder. Ishmael was clinging to his leg, obviously exhausted.

  “Of course,” Luke agreed, kneeling to hold his arms out. Ishmael scrambled into them.

  “Thank you,” Barb said gratefully. “He’s getting a mite heavy for me these days.”

  “Don’t you worry; by the time he gets too big for me to haul around he’ll be old enough to stay awake on an evening out.” Luke nuzzled Ishmael’s hair fondly, making the child giggle.

  “You’re a good friend, Luke.” Barb gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder before turning to Daisy. “And Miss Daisy, thank you for such a beautiful dinner and sharing your mama’s recipe with us.”

  Luke nodded in vigorous agreement. “I don’t know when I last enjoyed dinner so much.”

  “Hear, hear,” Jack rumbled.

  “You’re all far too kind.” Daisy tried to wave their praise off, obviously embarrassed. “I hope… well, I guess it’ll depend on what you two gentlemen plan on doing, but I hope it’s something we can do again soon.”

  “We’ll make it happen,” Luke promised before Barb urged him out the door, saying they needed to get the children to bed. His last glimpse of Daisy was her warm smile which he imagined was directed his way. Finally, she closed the door behind them, and he heard the reassuring thunk of the bolt sliding home.

  I don’t like her being there all alone, he thought as they walked the short distance to the boarding house. Even with the doors bolted—and he’d installed the sturdy bolts himself—he worried about her.

  * * *

  None of them noticed the dark shadow standing in the alley on the opposite side of the street from the schoolhouse. Grant Watson’s hate-filled gaze followed the little group until they reached the crossroads. Laughing. Joking. Playing. He despised them. His hands clenched into fists, his fingernails carving deep grooves into the palms of his hands.

  Patience, Grant. Patience.

  Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, he slowly eased his balled fists back open. He’d almost stalked out of the shadows to confront the man when he’d thought better of it. Grant waited another ten minutes just to make sure Rockford didn’t return alone. If he did…if he did and Daisy let him in…

  I’ll kill him, Grant decided, taking a step toward the street before freezing as he heard footsteps.

  Rockford?

  No, it wasn’t Rockford’s firm, steady steps, but dragging, irregular ones. Peering around the corner, Grant observed a figure shambling along the street. His lip curled in a contemptuous sneer.

  Bartholomew Jenkins had once been a solid citizen, he’d heard, but that was long before Grant Watson came to Rattlesnake Ridge. Now Jenkins was the town drunk. Although Mr. Dobson wouldn’t sell him anything stronger than beer and the barkeep at the Miner’s Rest limited Jenkins to two whiskeys a night after McCullough put the fear of the Lord into him, Jenkins was still getting the hard stuff from somewhere. McCullough was sure one of the miners was running a moonshine still somewhere, but all the efforts of the sheriff and his deputies had failed to turn up who and where.

  Grant debated going to intercept Jenkins and trying to see if he could get any information about his liquor supplier while Jenkins was half-drunk, but the lure of Daisy’s lit window was far too strong. He waited for the shuffle of Jenkins’s steps to die away before slipping silently across the street and along the side of the schoolhouse to resume his nightly ritual.

  Soon enough, he hoped he wouldn’t be watching from outside the window.

  * * *

  Leaning against the bolted door, Daisy smiled as she surveyed the immaculately clean room. She’d expected to spend the rest of the evening tidying up, but Luke had jumped up after dinner and dived right into the dishes, telling her in no uncertain terms that she’d cooked so it was others’ job to clean up.

  The sight of his strong, tanned forearms had caused her to feel warm all over, Daisy remembered with a grin as she unpinned her hair. Who knew a man performing such mundane household tasks could be so attractive?

  Barb had caught her eye and nodded at Luke’s broad back with a knowing grin, even making a little gesture Daisy had struggled to interpret for a moment before realizing Barb was pretending to fan herself.

  Well, the sight of a strong, handsome man voluntarily taking on tasks most would denigrate as ‘women’s work’ had certainly made Daisy feel overheated. She’d still felt obligated to bite her lip and shoot Barb a reproving look.

  The widow had just chuckled. “Appreciating the Lord’s work is nothing to be ashamed of,” she’d whispered to Daisy, “and a man t
hat handsome is surely one of His finest creations.”

  “Barb!” Daisy had had to bite back a laugh. “You’re scandalous!”

  “Working in a saloon broadens your horizons, honey, even a decent one like Mr. Dobson’s,” Barb had said, her smile a little world-weary. “Trust me, you want to snap Luke up before some other lucky woman does. He’s a treasure.”

  “He’s practically your brother, so you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

  “So cynical, Daisy!”

  “You look to your own man, Barb.” Daisy had nodded at Jack, who’d gone over to help the twins with a difficult word in their book. “If Mr. Rockford’s a catch, Mr. Hollis surely is too.”

  Barb’s throaty laugh had made Jack’s head swivel. He’d gazed at her helplessly, spellbound. She’d given him a long look from under her lashes before whispering to Daisy, “Don’t worry about that. Jack told me their exciting news, and we’ll be speaking to Reverend and Mrs. Brown soon enough now he’s got a fine financial future ahead of him. I’d have taken him without one, of course, and we’d have made do, but the fool man wouldn’t declare his interest until he was sure he could give us all a good home.”

  “That’s wonderful. Congratulations,” Daisy had said softly, wondering what Barb was talking about. Luke must not have gotten around to whatever ‘exciting news’ Barb had mentioned.

  She blushed red yet again thinking about the way they’d passed the last minute or two of their brief time alone. It mustn’t happen again. Preparing for bed, Daisy told herself sternly, there mustn’t be any more kissing with Luke Rockford. She’d have enough trouble looking Reverend Brown in the eye on Sunday, knowing how much she’d enjoyed the kiss.

  One kiss isn’t so sinful, she consoled herself, staring sleeplessly at the shadows on her ceiling and listening to the creaks of the wooden building settling in the cool night air. Still, there was a reason that sort of activity was meant to take place within the sanctity of marriage… and it wasn’t as though Daisy had a father ready and willing to march Luke up the aisle to marry her at the business end of a gun.

  It was the opposite, really. He was the one with the family in Rattlesnake Ridge, the history here. She… well, if anyone had seen her kissing Luke, she’d have a permanently tarnished reputation, especially since it had been less than two weeks since her arrival. She’d have to leave town, and Heaven only knew when—or if—she’d ever manage to find another position.

  So, even though that kiss had been…well, any number of adjectives could be applied to it, including ones like magnificent and breathtaking. But the one which mattered the most was singular. For the sake of her future, she couldn’t kiss Luke again.

  She’d go walking with him, Daisy decided, as long as they kept to the public streets. The same with this picnic on Saturday; even though they wouldn’t have as many witnesses, she knew from experience small children could be exceptionally effective chaperones.

  Accustomed now to the creaks of the new building settling, an unexpected sound made Daisy’s eyes snap open just as she was finally drifting off to sleep.

  The sound of someone trying the latch.

  Shooting upright in bed, she clutched the sheet to her chest. Daisy sat very still, heart racing, listening as hard as she could.

  The sound came again—the metallic chink of the latch loud in the quiet night.

  “Luke,” Daisy mouthed, but in her heart she didn’t believe it was him. Didn’t honestly believe he’d return and try her door silently, like a thief.

  Then who?

  It could be anyone. Everyone in Rattlesnake Ridge knew she lived alone, but until that moment Daisy had never felt vulnerable. Now she did. Yes, there was a solid bolt on the door, but that wouldn’t stop someone determined. They could just smash the window.

  As silently as she could, Daisy got out of bed and opened her armoire, reaching up to the top shelf and picking up her best hat to collect what was hidden beneath it.

  A gun.

  She never wanted any of the schoolchildren to know she had it or to chance one of them coming across it, but the small silver revolver had been a gift from her father. He’d taught her how to shoot it when she was only twelve. A lifetime ago. His lessons would serve her well now.

  The latch rattled again, and Daisy clenched her teeth. Throwing open the bedroom door with her free hand, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “If you break in here, I will shoot you dead!”

  Holding the gun firmly in both hands, she stood facing the door, trying not to shake with fear. She wondered if she really could shoot a man.

  Yes, she decided, her hands steadying. Yes, if a man breaks in, he’s here to hurt me, and I’m not going to let that happen when I have the power right here in my hands to prevent it.

  The silence seemed absolute. Daisy might almost have thought she’d imagined it all, were it not for the faintest sound which finally reached her ears, the scuff of a boot on stone as someone crept away.

  She stood motionless for a long time before retreating to her bedroom, gun still clenched tightly in her cold, trembling hand. Sitting on the bed, she waited even longer, an hour at least, terrified, tense, and twitching nervously at the slightest sound.

  At last she concluded whoever had attempted to get in had given up and gone away. She didn’t return the revolver to the top shelf of the armoire, however. Instead she laid it carefully on the small nightstand beside the bed. She’d put it away in the morning. But for the time being, she intended to sleep with her gun within easy reach.

  Chapter 15

  In the bright light of morning, Daisy felt foolish about the terror she’d felt in the middle of the night. She put the gun away quickly, shaking her head at her own silliness. She must have imagined it!

  Dressing in her regular clothes and pinning her hair up made her feel a little better, the familiar routine reassuring.

  Finding the latch stuck in the up position—the open position, the door held closed only by the bolt’s strength—made all her fears rush back to the surface. She stood staring at it, feeling the blood draining from her face.

  Somebody really was trying to get in here last night.

  A knock at the door made her jump back with a small squeak of fright. She gathered herself together and drew the bolt. The latch fell, and she lifted it cautiously before pulling the door open.

  Sheriff Jim McCullough was a big man, almost filling the doorway. Removing his hat, he offered her a respectful nod. “Good morning, Miss Daisy.”

  “Sheriff! Good morning. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s more what I, or my department, can do for you, ma’am.” His expression was concerned as he gazed down at her, but his calm demeanor reassured Daisy’s slightly frazzled nerves. “Got a report this morning from your neighbors across the back fence, the Misses Bentley. Miss Mary Bentley stopped by my office this morning and said she and her sisters heard shouting from over here real late, asked if I’d stop in and check on you.”

  “How kind of them!” Daisy had only briefly met the three middle-aged ladies who lived in the house across the back fence from hers. She’d have to take them something as a thank you for their concern.

  “Was the shouting coming from here, ma’am?” McCullough pressed gently.

  Coming to a decision, Daisy nodded. “It was, Sheriff. Would you come with me, please?”

  Once he’d followed her inside, she closed and bolted the door, lifted the latch, and showed how it stuck in place while explaining the events which had transpired after she’d gone to bed.

  McCullough took her seriously, she noted gratefully, examining the latch with a frown. It fell into place when he touched it only lightly, and he jiggled it a time or two until it stuck again. Once he opened the bolt, the latch wouldn’t stick up at all.

  “So once your guests left, you closed the door and the latch must have fallen into place then,” he observed, opening the door and testing it several times. “Then you bolted it. How much later would you say you h
eard someone try the door?”

  “I was just falling asleep, but I’d been thinking for a while. Maybe half an hour?”

  “But you’d put out your candle a while before that?”

  “Oh, yes. I brushed my hair and got ready for bed, which I always do in the bedroom. I haven’t had a chance to put a curtain over the window in this room yet.”

  McCullough hummed to himself, scribbled a note in a small notebook he plucked from a pocket, and walked outside, surveying the ground intently. Going around the side of the house to the window, he called to her, “Miss Daisy? A moment.”

  Joining him, she folded her arms around herself defensively, feeling cold despite the day’s warmth. “What is it, Sheriff?”

  He pointed at the small window-box, at the moment appearing to contain only soil. “You planted this?”

  “Yes, some herbs I hope to grow. Didn’t figure they’d grow too well in a backyard that’s not much more than dust, but I can water these. I planted the seeds just a few days ago.”

  “And you’ve been watering them?”

  “Well, yes.” Puzzled, she frowned up at him. “What’s the problem?”

  “No problem at all, Miss Daisy. Your watering these has created a little bit of evidence, as it so happens.” He squatted, pointing at the dusty ground below the window. “See here, where the water has run down and softened the earth some.”

  “Oh!” Daisy saw then what the experienced lawman’s eyes had picked out, the imprint of a man’s boot in the dirt. “Oh, I see, and this must have been made since I first watered the seeds!”

  “Precisely.” McCullough straightened up, his mouth flattened into a thin line. “There ain’t no good reason for any man to be standing this close to your window, Miss Daisy. Reckon this is your culprit’s print. He’s a man with feet larger than average and boots which weren’t made cheap, unless I miss my guess. You got a large sheet of paper to trace an outline of this print? Otherwise I’ll have to go back to the office, but I thought since you’re the schoolmarm…”