“Andwhenyou’re ready, we’ll help with anything you need,” Deirdre said with a smile.
“That would be wonderful.” Clara bit her lip as she looked down at her empty plate. It was so strange to be talking about a wedding without her mother or Violet. How many times had Mama reminisced over her own simple wedding? And Violet and Clara had been dreaming of their own special days since they were girls.
But she was happy to have made new friends, such as Deirdre and Abigail, and Emma and Caroline. She couldn’t wait to stop by the mercantile later on to share her news with Caroline. And then perhaps she could visit Emma’s home and tell her.
There were still two hours remaining before Roman would come to escort her to the livery. But Clara was far too restless to wait, and besides, it felt as if it had been days since she’d last seen him, never mind that it had only been since yesterday. Fetching her hat from her room, she decided she would arrive early and save Roman the time away from his work. It was so very thoughtful of him to come get her each day, but it was entirely unnecessary, especially now that she was more familiar with the town. It was difficult for one to become lost when a town consisted of only one street.
Clara adjusted the ribbon under her chin and smiled at herself in the little mirror that sat perched on the washstand. Something about being so happy made her face light up. She’d never considered herself particularly pretty, but looking at her reflection now, she believed she could see what it was that Roman saw.
In fact, everything about the day felt bright and cheerful—the polished handrail along the boardinghouse stairs, the blue sky, the morning chill in the air, the half-finished buildings along the road, even the saloon, which she generally thought of as somewhat menacing. Now, a questionable sort of fellow who stood outside nodded a greeting at her, and Clara smiled and inclined her head in return.
The early sun shone onto the livery. The front doors were opened, ready for business. Clara picked her way across the road and the tracks, and paused at the entrance.
Just inside stood a man in a long coat, talking with Roman and Mr. Wiley. Their faces were drawn and serious. Clara slid quietly through the doorway and stood aside, waiting for them to finish. Roman glanced her way, his eyes lingering on her for a just a fraction of a second before returning to the man before him. Mr. Wiley gave her a slight smile, which she returned.
“A night watch is a good idea,” the gentleman in the coat was saying. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep my ears open.” He turned, and Clara caught sight of the metal badge pinned to the vest under his coat.
He must be the town marshal. She swallowed, fear edging out the cheer she’d woken with. Something must have happened, else he wouldn’t be here. Roman had mentioned that Marshal Wright and his wife currently lived in the hotel, and as such, he kept his horse in the hotel stables and not at Roman’s livery. And then there was the dark look on Roman’s face, a barely contained facade concealing what could be a hundred different emotions. Even Mr. Wiley’s usual lightheartedness was gone, replaced by something more troubled.
“I appreciate that, Marshal,” Roman said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Let me know if you need assistance. I can round up a few trustworthy men to help you watch the place, if need be,” the marshal said as the group moved toward the door. “Miss,” he said, with a tug of his hat when he spotted Clara.
“Good morning, Marshal,” she forced herself to say, when what she really wanted was to demand to know why he was here. Was it the horse thief? Had he returned?
The men parted ways, the marshal headed back into town, while Mr. Wiley fairly ran off to the rear of the building. Only Clara and Roman stood up front, the cool breeze lifting bits of straw from the floor and sending them scuttling across the dirt.
Roman stood silently, fixing that angry gaze out into the street, his hands on his hips, even as a bird sang nearby and the smithy greeted someone with a loud, friendly shout next door.
Clara paused, uncertain what to do. She wanted desperately to know what had happened, to help in some way, and yet, she had the distinct feeling that Roman might need to be left alone with his thoughts. So she opted to remain in place, quiet and waiting for whenever he needed her.
A few minutes later, he finally turned and seemed to notice her presence. “Clara,” he said, drawing out his pocket watch. After checking the time, he looked back up at her. “I was coming to get you closer to ten.”
“I awoke early and hadn’t much to keep me occupied at the Darbys’ and . . . I wanted to see you.” Clara took a step forward.
Roman returned the watch to his pocket and glanced out to the road beyond the door. “It isn’t safe for you to wander about town alone.”
Clara thought back to her walk from the boardinghouse. Nothing about it had felt unsafe. Not even the saloon.
Roman continued to stand at the door, his attention focused on whatever—or whomever—was outside. Clara quietly joined him, but when she glanced out, she saw nothing beyond the dirt road, the railroad tracks, and the buildings in various states of construction on the other side. One man stood in front of one of those buildings, watching and waiting for something on down the road.
Clara glanced up at Roman, who still looked at nothing outside. “Roman?” she said quietly. “What happened?”
He drew in a deep breath, expelling it before speaking. “Someone stole two horses last night.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” It felt like such a trivial thing to say, entirely unhelpful, but it was all Clara could come up with. She laid a hand on his arm.
Roman continued to let his gaze travel up and down the road outside, as if he were searching for something.
“Which horses were taken?” she finally asked. Although she’d only been helping at the livery for a short while, there were a few horses she’d come to know better than others. She hoped it wasn’t Tartan, the banker’s horse, or sweet Georgia, who was one of Roman’s own.
“Baxter and Felicity. Boarded horses,” Roman said, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Clara’s heart sank. It was bad enough to have one of his own horses stolen, but now to have others under his care go missing too? Clara wanted to pull him close to her and tell him all would be well, but he stood like a stone, unmoving and preoccupied. And so she remained where she was, one hand gently placed on his arm, in case he needed her.
She said nothing for a moment, trying to imagine how the men who owned those horses might react. “Do they know yet? The men who boarded the horses.”
Roman made a sound that indicated they didn’t, and Clara said a quick prayer that the men would be understanding. That they wouldn’t blame Roman.
