Charlie grinned. “Thank you.” His fingers wrapped around the treat.
A pheasant feather dangled from the blonde’s felt hat as the two strode down the walkway, their skirts swishing together as they chatted.
Ben pushed the door open. A cacophony of aromas greeted his nose. Wood, coffee, oil, and cigars. Barrels of brooms and ax handles stood next to the woodstove, along with kegs of nails. Scattered offerings of potatoes, carrots, and onions lingered in other barrels. Tin plates and cups, iron pots, and oil lamps filled the shelves alongside more feminine wares.
Mustache wiggling, Mr. Miller bustled from around the glass-fronted counter with a sack of coffee in hand. His thin layer of sandy hair clung to his forehead. “Afternoon, Mr. McKenzie. Busy day, busy day. Settlers coming through.” He added the sack to a wooden box, already half filled with pickled edibles, everything from eggs to beets. “Good thing you bought your supplies the other day. I just sold the last of my coffee and sugar.”
“Not shopping today.” Ben ambled over. “Just looking for information.”
“Glad to do what I can.” Miller swiped a neckerchief across his sweated brow.
Charlie tugged at Ben’s sleeve. “Can I go outside? I want to watch the wagons.” His red-tinged lips closed around the candy.
“Go ahead.” Ben ruffled the boy’s straight black hair. “Stay out of trouble.”
As the door jingled shut, Miller sighed. “I was sorry to see Miss Scott move back to the ranch. No place for a young woman on her own. Mrs. Miller told her more than once that she needed to get herself a husband.”
Ben’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. That probably went over as well as a bag of rocks. But why wasn’t a fine-looking woman like Cora, with all her spirit, not married yet? “Was there a…?”
“Beau? There was more than one that showed interest over the years, from what I heard and saw. Frank Taylor was a fine candidate. Courted her before the war, but rumor had it that she turned him down in the end. Didn’t want to leave her ma alone with that father of hers. Then that little Indian boy showed up. Offspring of a Comanche Mr. Scott had tucked away at some trading post. After Cora’s mother took sick, God rest her soul, Cora all but became a mother to the boy. Taylor and most of the other young men were away at war.” His voice wobbled. “Some never returned.”
Had Miller lost someone in the war as well? Ben wouldn’t pry. Another question loomed more imminent. “Did Taylor come back?”
“Came back a lieutenant. Fine soldier. Only, he met him a belle over in Mississippi from his time there, one who didn’t have family she was bound to look after. They live in Dallas.” Miller tossed a bundle of tapers into the box, their wicks joined. “After Mrs. Scott took ill, Cora didn’t have time for socializing. Her whole household depended upon her. After her mother passed, Cora was the only one with any backbone in that family.”
Cora working, carrying the load of her whole family, watching her mother die… Had she loved the Taylor fellow? Did she long to have a beau, or had she given up? He swallowed hard. His gaze drifted to a roll of violet ribbon on the counter. Wouldn’t that look fine in her ha— No. He shook himself.Don’teven think it. You have a girl. Besides, Cora Scott wants nothing to do with you. And the way LeBeau looked at her that day? She doesn’t need help finding a beau.
Miller settled a bag of sugar next to the coffee. “I would have kept her on at the store with a few hours, but finances being what they are, I couldn’t offer more. Northern folks like you and those settlers who came in today are mostly the only ones who can afford to stock their larders. Some of those ranchers, though, like Mr. Goodnight?—”
“That’s exactly who I wanted to talk to you about.” Ben stepped closer. “I have business to discuss with him on Miss Scott’s behalf. I hear he’s putting an outfit together, planning a cattle drive.”
“You’d better believe it. He was in here a couple weeks ago—another reason my shelves are emptying out. He’s rounded up over a thousand head and hired him a crew of men. Even bought himself an old army wagon and had a woodworker north of here reinforce it with bois d’arc wood. Strongest wood around. Had him build some high-falutin’ contraption on the end, like a miniature cupboard all set up for meal fixing. So proud of it, he brought me outside to show it off.”
Ben rubbed his hands together. “But where is he now?”
“Headed east toward Fort Worth. He needs more horses before he starts for Colorado. I’d try the Circle R or Gary’s Ranch. Either one’s a good bet.”
A few minutes later, Ben strode out of the store, directions in mind, and a can of peaches in hand. Maybe he couldn’t buy Cora the ribbon, but they could all enjoy the fruit as a treat tonight as he shared the good news. Venison, peaches, and a trip to plan.
Where was Charlie?
CHAPTER 15
Blinking in the sunlight, Ben glanced down the street and stiffened. Charlie stood a couple of blocks away, kitty-corner to the Carson and Lewis House, surrounded by three boys. Ben headed toward them.
One boy might be Charlie’s age, but the other two had to be at least two or three years older. One of them had the chest and arms of a junior blacksmith. Their tense postures and hands on hips didn’t bespeak a friendly conversation. The tallest one swaggered up to within a foot of Charlie. Ben picked up his pace.
“Why don’t you go back to the reservation?” The tall one’s voice carried half a block away, his scraggly hair falling across his forehead.
The junior blacksmith muscled closer. “My pa says Injuns are worse than dogs.”
Charlie stood, ramrod straight, fists clenched at his sides.
Ben charged toward the huddle. “You boys?—”
“Leave him alone.” A little girl sprung onto the walkway from the street, coming out of nowhere. Her black hair hung down her back in braids. She couldn’t be more than six or seven, but she plowed into the mix like a mama bear ready to protect her cub.
“Why, you’re an Injun’ just like him.” The junior blacksmith curled his lip.
