He shook his head. “All Marshal Wright could figure out was that a man paid off a fellow who was, well . . .inebriated—”
Clara bit her lip. It was sweet the way he went a bit red mentioning the man’s unseemly state to her.
“Paid him to distract Jeremiah while he snuck in and took Alliance. The horse,” he added at Clara’s quizzical look.
“That seems very thought out,” she said after a moment. “As if someone spent some time planning the best way to execute the theft.”
Mr. Carlisle blinked at her in surprise. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“This is such a small town. I doubt the man would stay. Your horse would be too easy to recognize.”
“Yes.” He gave her an incredulous look.
“I wonder if he’ll return,” Clara mused. “It could be he only wanted the horse to leave town, in which case he won’t be back. Or it could have been a test of sorts, to see if he could get away with taking one horse.”
He drew in a deep breath. “That is my greatest fear.”
Clara nodded. It was a terrifying thought.
“I didn’t expect you to take such an interest in my business,” he said with a little smile.
“Oh, I . . . well . . .” Clara let the words drift into the warm summer breeze that fluttered her skirts.
“I’m glad you do.”
Clara swallowed. He was looking at her as if she were a puzzle that fascinated him. “I like horses,” she said, for lack of anything better to say.
“As do I.” It was an obvious statement, considering he’d based his entire livelihood around the animals. It was clear he was waiting to hear more.
“And I thought, well . . .” She could feel her cheeks going pink, and she looked at the ground. “I thought that if I was to be your wife, I ought to have an interest in your stable.”
When he didn’t say anything, she looked up. He’d taken off his hat, and was turning it around in his hands, as if he were deep in thought.
“Miss Brown,” he said suddenly. “I don’t suppose you might be interested in helping at the livery? Not with cleaning out stalls or anything like that, but perhaps assisting with customers? Jeremiah and I have more work than we can handle most days.”
A happy warmth flooded Clara from head to toe. Not only did he want her here, he needed her assistance. “I would love to help.”
He grinned, wider than she’d seen since she met him. “Good. Thank you.” He replaced his hat and held out an arm. “Shall we tour the rest of the town, and then take some lunch? I hear Miss Darby’s ham and bean soup is the best for miles around.”
Clara giggled and took his arm. “There isn’t much of anything for miles around.”
“Well, I fear it’s that or Jeremiah’s cold beans from last night,” he said with a look on his face that indicated she’d much prefer the soup.
He led her about the little town, pointing out various places of interest. There wasn’t much to it, not yet. The main road was split in two, lining each side of the railroad tracks. The beginnings of what might become side roads that ran from west to east sat between a few buildings on the east side of the tracks. The hotel upon its hill took up most of the land to the west, and behind that, Mr. Carlisle told her, Silver Creek ran along the base of the towering Sangre de Cristo mountains.
Clara found her gaze wandering to the mountains again and again. They were beautiful and forbidding at the same time, topped with snow at their peaks, and watching over the town like ancient sentinels. The lower, dark Wet Mountains far to the east of the valley were farther away and home to a mining encampment, Mr. Carlisle said.
They visited the general store and mercantile, admired the smithy’s work, and perused a few half-finished buildings. Mr. Carlisle pointed out the church, the bank, and other buildings of note. After lunch at the boardinghouse, he promised to return early the next morning to bring her to the livery.
Clara wrote two quick letters—one to her parents and the other to Violet—letting them know she’d arrived safely and met Mr. Carlisle. She hesitated to say more about him just yet. Although the way he’d acted today gave her no reason to doubt him, she almost feared putting her hopes into words. She wanted so badly to trust him, but it was difficult to let her guard down entirely.
After supper that evening and conversation with the two other ladies staying at the boardinghouse, Clara climbed into bed with a contented sigh and smiled at the ceiling. The town was mostly silent outside her window, save for a shout or two from men visiting the saloon down the road. She felt a world away from home, in this remote place where the only souls she knew were people she’d met yesterday.
But it was all so exciting! Now that she was here, now that she’d seen the soaring mountains and the expansive wilderness, the rough men and brave women who dared to live in such a place, she couldn’t imagine returning to her staid, safe life in Virginia.
She prayed that Mr. Carlisle would be nothing like Gideon, that he’d continue to find her interesting, and that he’d appreciate her help at the livery tomorrow. And then she drifted off, dreaming of a wedding in the new little church, a dark-haired, hardworking man standing beside her, pledging to love and protect her for always.
