Chapter Twenty-three
“WILLA!” NICK EMERGEDfrom the hotel’s doorway. In a matter of seconds, he was around the marshal and Mr. Johnson and had taken her into his arms. She fell gratefully into them. His familiar scent of pine and tobacco felt like coming home.
Home.
Willa squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to think past this very moment.
Someone cleared his throat, and she looked up to find Marshal KC standing there, ready to lead Mr. Johnson off to the jail.
“This belong to you?” He held out a wallet and Nick thanked him. “Miss Rousseau told me all of what had happened, unless there’s anything else you’d like to add, Doctor?”
Nick shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Then you folks have a Merry Christmas.” The marshal tilted his hat and was on his way, a dejected Mr. Johnson at his side.
Willa watched them go, almost too aware of Nick’s proximity to her. “I must check on my father.”
Nick nodded and led her back inside. “If it’s all right, I’d like to speak with you afterward. I’ll wait down here.”
Willa’s heart pounded harder than it had when she thought Mr. Johnson was going to force her to take him to the livery. How could speaking with Nick seem more frightening than that?
But she knew the answer. It had dawned on her the moment he’d appeared at the door.
She’d fallen in love with him.
Upstairs, she reassured Papa she was well and told him that Mr. Johnson was headed to jail.
“Willa, I feel as if we should talk,” he said. “About the medicines, about me—”
“Not tonight,” she said. “I would like some answers, but it’s almost Christmas. Why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll talk it through later.”
“All right,” he said uncertainly. “I love you, my daughter. And I’m sorrier than I’ll ever be that I never told you the truth.”
She smiled and pulled up the covers for him. “I love you too, Papa. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”
“Remind me tomorrow when I tell you your real name. Rousseau has a more knowledgeable ring to it than Rogers.”
“I already know.”
“Or when I tell you I’m not a doctor. Not in truth.”
“I know that too.”
He frowned. “Or perhaps when I tell you Amos paid folks to talk about how great the elixir was in the crowds.”
Willa laughed. It was all she could do. “All right, I didn’t know that.”
She paused by the desk. He loved speaking with people and making them happy. He enjoyed working with Leroy and Amos, and . . .
“Papa, have you ever considered giving the show on its own without selling medicines? Just as entertainment for people? You could charge them a small amount to attend.”
He looked at her, his forehead wrinkling at her words. “I haven’t, but it’s a good idea.”
She smiled again and saw not the sad liar of a man she’d seen before, but her father—a talented, if somewhat misguided, man who loved her greatly. He closed his eyes, a happy smile upon his face, and just before Willa extinguished the lights, she caught a glimpse of something metallic glinting at her from the desk chair.
