He gave the reins a tug and turned the horses, urging them into a canter, or as much of a canter as the snow allowed. Before the horses even came to a stop behind the boardinghouse, he'd jumped from the seat and tied the reins to the nearest fence post.
To his right, a shirtless man ran at an unbelievable speed through the snow toward the woods, his feet as bare as his chest.
What was going on?
Noah pushed through the snow, down the little hill behind the boardinghouse, and rounded to the front. Footprints in the snow proved a small group had been standing there. One set of prints went in the general direction Noah had just come from, but the other footprints, a set of two, disappeared toward the general store.
No blood.
His breath released in a puff of frozen air.
He followed the pair of footprints to the back door of the general store, proceeded around to the front, and entered the large space with a jingle of the bell above the door.
The usual scents of licorice, tobacco, spices, and woodstove hit him right away. He'd always loved the atmosphere of this place, the warmth and quaintness. Barrels sat in various places along the floor, boasting bulk goods for sale. Along the right, to appeal to the women of the town, Mrs. Carter housed a dry goods section, with some of the Lewis Mills fabrics, yarn, and thread on display. The back right corner featured hardware, and running along the left side of the building was a long counter, featuring candies, various canned vegetables, and other foodstuffs. But most of all, paused in conversation and staring at him, stood Mrs. Carter and Kizzie McAdams, both safe and whole.
At their wide-eyed expressions, heat took a steady course from his chest into his face. He cleared his throat and stepped farther into the warmth of the building.
“Mr. Noah?” Mrs. Carter tilted her head. “Are you all right?”
The heat in his cheeks heightened, and he removed his hat. “I … I heard the gunshots and came to …” He gestured with his hat toward Kizzie. “Make sure everyone was fine.”
Mrs. Carter's gaze flipped between him and Kizzie. “Well, aren't you a good sort.” She waved him forward, and his attention flitted to Kizzie's face.
Her smile beamed him closer … and increased the heat in his face.
He should have known she was fine. Ridiculous.
“I'm sure Kizzie appreciates you ensuring she's safe from me and my rifle.” Mrs. Carter grinned, her eyes alight.
“You fired those shots?”
She looked down at the rifle lying on the counter and nodded. “One of the Murphy boys saw fit to enter my boardinghouse with designs on one of my girls. I had to convince him to leave.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Your methods prove most effective, Mrs. Carter.”
She patted the rifle and sent him a wink. “Ain't failed me yet.”
“I didn't mean to worry you, Noah.” Kizzie stepped around the counter to meet him on the other side. “But I appreciate your kindness in making sure I wasn't victim to Mrs. Carter's wrath.” She leaned close, her eyes sparkling with humor. “She's about as terrifying with her rifle as my mama.”
“I already thought I'd like your mama, and now I'm even surer.” Mrs. Carter patted the counter with a laugh.
Ah, the teasing between the two already confirmed a healthy start to their relationship.
“Well, I won't keep you.” He took a step back, sending a nod to each woman. “I need to get to Dr. Palmer before the day gets later than it already is.”
“Is your mama all right?” Mrs. Carter's gaze sharpened. “I know she's had a rough go the past two years.”
“She's fine.” He retreated another step, cramming his hat on his head. “Kizzie can fill you in on the snowy adventure which led to her staying over at our house and my stable hand's broken leg.”
“I can't think of a better house in which to find refuge from a storm than the one where Victoria and Noah Lewis reside.” Mrs. Carter's attention shifted again between Noah and Kizzie, like she was attempting to sort something out.
But what?
“Kizzie, you walk the man on out. I'll send him along with a soda pop for the ride back home.” Mrs. Carter reached into the nearby cooler, drew out an RC Cola, and handed it to Kizzie. “It won't warm you, but the fizz'll keep you awake.” She tugged Charlie from Kizzie's hold. “And let me see this young'un so he can get better acquainted with his Auntie Gayle.”
Kizzie's eyes grew wide, and she chuckled, shaking her head and walking over to Noah by the door. The swish of her frock was a whisper among the other sounds nearby, like the carriage traffic outside or the cooing of little Charlie. But the whisper blared above the other noises, as if his rebel heart already tuned in to her presence despite his efforts to keep his head rational.
There was something entrancingly good about her, a light pouring from her eyes which told of the battle with brokenness from which she'd somehow emerged as victor.
