Jess ducked behind the rack before anyone could see her watching them.
As the boy spoke with the clerk, her mind spun. Who was this man? She’d never heard anyone talk to a child like that, let alone one who'd been caught stealing. He wasn’t going to punish him?
Boot thuds sounded from around the corner, fading quickly. The man must have stepped away.
She moved back to the bolts of fabric. Father would come to pay for her selections soon, and she had to be finished.
The stranger’s voice carried over the barrels between them as he spoke to the storekeeper. “I’ll take another bag of flour too, if you have it.”
As she pulled out a roll of blue plaid, she glanced at the man. He looked younger than she’d expected. Broad shoulders filled out his flannel shirt, and his wavy hair was cut shorter than most men wore it.
Maybe he felt her eyes on him because he turned, and their gazes locked for an instant before he dipped his chin and looked away.
He turned to the wall beside the counter where several posters had been tacked up. Wanted signs, most of them. Probably put up by lawmen looking for criminals. And a few job postings.
"Any sign of your brother?" Mr. Smith's question pulled the stranger’s attention back.
“I was going to ask you the same.” Those broad shoulders slumped a little.
The storekeeper leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Sorry. I haven’t seen him come through here. I asked Wally to watch for him too. You want me to leave the sign up?"
The stranger dipped a nod. “If you don’t mind.”
After Mr. Smith handed the man his change and they made arrangements to pick up the goods, the fellow strode out into the blustery fall day.
She carried the blue plaid to the stack of other supplies she’d selected. This would be enough for today. She wanted a look at that sign.
To see it, she had to move closer to Jedidiah, which meant he might start asking questions, but she could evade him well enough. She’d certainly had plenty of practice.
At the wall of notices, she was pretty sure she could tell which one the men had spoken of. The paper was newer than the others, not yet yellowed or faded. And not posted by a lawman with a reward listed. On this flyer, the sketch of a face took up most of the page, a name lettered across the top.
Sampson Coulter
Underneath, only a short message:
Twenty years of age, brown hair, able miner.
Family seeking to locate.
Reward for information leading to location.
Her insides stirred as the name slowly unwrapped recognition within her. Could it be the same Coulter? She’d never heard the man’s given name.
Those eyes were unmistakable. So was the shape of the jawline.
Coulter. One of the newer men working in her father's mine.
He must be the brother of the stranger who just left this store.
She had to work to keep from spinning toward the door. Did she dare go after him to tell him she knew his brother? Would Jedidiah allow it if she asked to? Probably not. Perhaps if she went to speak to a woman or child, but not a man. And she didn’t dare risk Jedidiah’s anger.
She eased out a breath, long and slow so the drop of her shoulders wouldn’t be noticed from behind. If she searched for the stranger, she would only put them both in trouble. Maybe she could get him a message through Mr. Smith. Maybe even a note. But what could she tell him? That Sampson Coulter’s brother should come out to the most remote mountain aroundand search until he found a cave? That his brother worked somewhere within?
That would be a disaster for both Coulters. And she couldn’t bring herself to put any man at the mercy of her father—especially one who’d just showed such kindness to a child.
Jess smoothed the patchwork quilt atop her narrow cot, her fingers lingering on the frayed edges. She should stitch a new coverlet soon. Not today though. Father said he would be gone most of the day for some kind of meeting, and sunlight filtered through the cave's mouth, beckoning her outside.
She strode to the opening and adjusted the belt on her split riding skirt as she stepped from their cave dwelling. She was rarely allowed to actually ride in this skirt, but she could move more freely as she explored the mountainside. She'd braided her waist-length hair down her back, and she wore her usual shirtwaist and boots. Not exactly ladylike attire, but practical for life in this mountain wilderness.
