He laughed. “This is the only meal we’ve had in two days.”
“That too.”
He stacked their plates and laid the silverware on top before noticing she’d fixed her hair. She'd pinned her loose curls up again, and he wished she had left them all down. His fingers itched to thread through the glossy curls that hung all the way down her back. Her hair was so different from her sisters. Rose had fiery red hair, and while Violet’s was more auburn, Daisy’s was much darker. It wasn’t exactly brown, nor was it red. It was a mix of the two. It complemented her creamy, porcelain complexion and the full pink lips he couldn’t stop thinking about since getting a small taste of them.
He realized he was staring when her face went red as she blushed. He cleared his throat and gathered their plates, and stood. “I’m going to take these to the restaurant and get started on feeding the horses. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He had no clue if she’d caught any of what he said he’d rambled so fast, but decided it didn’t matter. He was sure she’d know where he was going the moment he picked up their plates.
The number of horses and wagons littering the road made the walk across town all the more difficult, and the two saloons had the air filled with riotous noise, the tinny piano tunes spilling out into the street. He used to live for towns like this. The busier they were, the more he liked them. His family had died when he’d been too young to take care of himself, but somehow he managed to do it all the same. Working odd jobs and making his way west had given him one adventure after another, and he missed the liveliness of so many people. Not that Silver Falls was a terrible place to be. It was just slower paced than he was used to, and truth be known, if Daisy hadn’t been there, he would have already been gone. She was the only reason he stayed. He wondered if she knew that?
When he made it back to the stable, he paused by the barn door. Daisy was at the stalls, feeding the horses, her soft voice like music as she talked to each of them as she fed them. She saw him as she exited the stall she was in and stilled. “You don’t have to do that,” he told her.
She shrugged and latched the stall door. “There wasn’t anything else for me to do.”
He opened the next stall and watched her from the gate as she went inside. “Besides,” she said. “I miss my own critters. I’ve tended them daily for years.”
“What sort of critters do you have?” He had to repeat the question, but when she understood him, she grinned.
“I have an old goat named Mrs. Duckworth, and a raccoon named Petunia.”
He laughed. “I’ve never known anyone to make a raccoon a pet.”
“I found her when she was a baby. Her mama must have dropped her because she was all alone out behind the house.”
He draped his arms over the railing and thumbed up the front of his hat. “Luckily for her, you found her when you did, or something would have made a meal of her.”
“Gramps said the same thing, which is why no one cared that I kept her.”
He watched her feed the horses for a few more minutes before grabbing fresh hay and cleaning the stalls that needed it. By the time it was too dark to see, they were both slowing down. It had been a long day, and he was ready to sleep for the next week. The only question was—where exactly was he supposed to do that?
Chapter 5
Her bones ached when she entered the small tack room. The cot butted against one wall looked uncomfortable, and it probably was. But it was better than the hard, dirty cabin floor she’d slept on the night before, so she wouldn’t complain.
She glanced toward the door as she sat down. Clay was still in the main part of the stable. She knew he’d give her the cot, but a look around the tiny room had her frowning. Where was he going to sleep? Would he bunk down in there with her or out in the main part of the stable?
And where did she want him to be?
Fear of the unknown made her want him close by, but if he stayed in there with her, what would people say? It wasn’t appropriate at all. Of course, she’d spent the previous night snuggled up against him. But no one had seen them other than the Indian man. They knew nobody in this town, so it's not as if she’d actually hear anyone talk bad about her if they shared the room, but still…
The questions were answered when Clay walked through the door. He had a blanket in his hand.
“This isn’t much,” he said. “And it smells like a horse, but it’ll keep you warm.” He tossed it to the foot of the cot. He pointed to the ceiling. “I’m gonna go up to the hayloft and sleep, but if you need anything, just yell for me, okay?”
He was leaving. Daisy wasn’t sure if she was relieved or terrified that she’d be alone, but as he said, he was only a yell away. She gave him a smile and nodded. “All right then. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
When he left, she wondered how far he’d gone. Was he close enough to hear her if she needed him?
The sun was going down. Dim light filtered into the barn, and it only took a few minutes for the small tack room to go dark. Grabbing the horse blanket, she spread it out and lay down on the cot, staring at the ceiling. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness sank in.
She’d never spent a single day without her family close by. The exhaustion from the mad dash through the forest that first night didn’t give her time to feel lonely. And the Indian had distracted her the evening before, but now, in the stillness and the shadows of unfamiliar things, the longing for Gramps and her sisters was strong.
This is how it would be in Boston. The thought alone made her homesick. Maybe those bandits robbing them was a blessing in disguise. She’d been praying for a miracle, and although she'd been manhandled and groped, robbed and terrified beyond belief, maybe she’d gotten her wish after all. She wasn’t going east now, and for however long it took to get back home, she was with the man she had been secretly dreaming of for months.
Perhaps this minor mishap was part of her destiny. She’d dreamed of marriage and children like all girls did, but never thought it possible, not even when Violet teased her about it, but Clay didn’t seem to care that she couldn’t hear him speak. He never treated her as if she had anything wrong with her, so maybe Violet was right. Maybe the life she’d always wanted was there for the taking, and all she had to do was be brave enough to reach out and grab it.
